Luke
9:28-36, 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2
The other day I
was talking to an acquaintance of mine about Lent. I found it to be a rather odd conversation
because this acquaintance is not a Christian and yet he was telling me about
what he was going to give up for Lent.
This baffled me. As we continued
to talk, though, I realized that he was thinking about Lent the way many people
think about the beginning of the new year, that is an a opportunity to
institute some self-improving change in one’s life. So when this man was talking about giving up
something for Lent what he really meant was that he was making a mini New
Year’s resolution - and we all know how successful those tend. The dismal failure of such efforts is due to
the fact that change is just plain hard and we resist it for so many reasons.
Yet change is the
name of the game in our readings today.
In the gospel of Luke we hear how Jesus, after taking Peter, James, and
John with him up on a mountain to pray, changes in appearance. His face is altered, his clothes become
dazzling white. Moses and the prophet
Elijah appear out of nowhere. And the
disciples see the glory of the Lord all around them. Now this story is commonly referred to as “The
Transfiguration”, with the focus being on the change that Jesus undergoes. But I’d like to push back on that a bit
because I don’t believe that Jesus is the one who really changes up on that
mountain. He is always radiant with the
glory of the Lord. What changes is the disciples’
ability to see what truly and always is - that God’s glory, God’s radiance of
life and love are always present in the world around them. However, their vision of this truth quickly
fades. Everything goes back to normal. The disciples keep quiet and nothing, at
least in any obvious way, seems to be any different than it was before. Nonetheless, change is afoot - this blaze of
glory is just one part of the slow, gradual, persistent work of God to
transform and transfigure the disciples - and us all - into the fullness of who
we are created to be.
And Peter is such
a wonderful example of this slow, gradual, persistent work. I mean, think about it, it takes three years
of constant contact with Jesus, of seeing his miracles, of hearing his
parables, of experiencing God’s love in the flesh - three years to transform
Peter from a self-centered, impulsive, and sometimes cowardly disciple into a
self-sacrificing, articulate, fearless apostle.
And even then when Peter is filled with the Holy Spirit and boldly
preaching the good news there’s still more work to be done, more changes to be
made, more growing to do. Perhaps you
recall in the Acts of the Apostles how God had to get in Peter’s face with a
vision about the shocking news that the gospel is not just for Jews, but for
Gentiles also. And then later on how
this radical good news meant that Peter not only had to change his mind, but
also his behavior and welcome Gentiles to table fellowship.
Transformation is
a lifelong process. And that’s how
should it because that’s what living and growing in Christ is all about -
change. Not just for Peter, but for us
too. In our reading from 2 Corinthians,
Paul puts it this way that “all of us...seeing the glory of the Lord...are
being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to
another.” And let me just say this is a
mighty bold statement of faith by Paul given that the Corinthians are pretty
much a hot mess. There is little that
they seem to get right. Yet even so,
Paul is confident that God’s great love will have its way and transform even
them from glory to glory.
And that goes for
us as well. No matter what our lives are
like we, too, are in the process of being changed, of being transformed by
love. And because that is so it would
serve us well to develop a practice of letting go into that love. Which reminds me of what I’m learning in
yoga. It’s something I started doing in
the past year. For those of you not
familiar with what a yoga class is, a very simple way to explain it would be a
bunch of people gathered in a room being guided to breathe in a mindful way as
everyone twists and bends and contorts their bodies into various poses. None of it comes easily to me. But the best part is at the end with the very
last position you put your body into which is called Savasana, also known as
Corpse Pose. Basically you lay down on
your back with your legs and arms slightly turned out, you close your eyes and
relax, giving the appearance of a corpse.
But lying in that position is a far cry from being dead. In fact, it’s one way of feeling fully alive
and open to the world around you. And
when you’re lying in this pose the yoga instructor often cues the class on
various ways to let go. “Relax your
feet,” she might say. “Relax your
legs. Relax your back, your arms, your
shoulders, your neck, your face, and so on.”
As I hear these cues I often realize how much I resist letting go. How tense my legs or shoulders may be at that
moment. And even when my attention is
drawn to it I still find it a challenge to let go. But it’s ok because as I lie there I practice
the art of letting go trusting that over time, with God’s help, I will get
better at it.
Lent invites us
into a similar practice of letting go.
Far from being a season that calls for resolutions of self-improvement,
Lent offers a time for us to let go more fully into love. To relax anything that we might be fiercely
holding - things like control, fear, worry, grief, hurt, anger, and pride oven
top the list. But what is it for
you? What, at this particular time in
your life with whatever particular circumstances you face, what might God be
calling you to relax and release in order to let go more fully into love? The answer may provide a way for you to
observe a holy Lent.
Change is hard
and we resist it, but even when our own practice is imperfect it’s ok, for we
do not do this on our own. God’s love
will have its way with us. And as we let
go over and over again into that love we will, in time, be changed, be
transformed, even be transfigured from one degree of glory to another.
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