We’re Climbing a Mountain

Sermon inspired from the Anti-Racism/Pro-Reconciliation Facilitator Training workshop presented by the Virginia Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) ARPR Ministry, Martinsville, VA, February 28-March 1, 2025

Luke 9:28-43a NRSV

I have an embarrassing confession to make this morning. I am afraid that some very shameful pictures of me have been posted on the internet. And to make matters worse, I know this will be hard for some of you to believe, but Lori, is with me in those pictures. We thought we were alone.

The pictures were taken on the very top of Sharp Top Mountain. Has anyone here seen them? It has been brought to my attention that some of you may have.

What makes these photographs so disgraceful and humiliating, is that when people see them and say to us, “Oh, I see that you and Lori climbed all the way to top of Sharp Top Mountain!” to be truthful, I must confess that we took the bus.

I know, you are disappointed.

And I am the one who posted the pictures, because the scene from the mountaintop is nothing less than glorious!

Do you want to hear something more disappointing?  For more than thirty years, I have been preaching on Transfiguration Sunday recounting the story of Jesus taking Peter, James, and John to the mountaintop to experience something glorious, and I do not remember ever considering how difficult it is to climb a mountain. Because as far as I know, I don’t believe there were any buses in service for them to take.

And to add to my shame, the mountain that I climbed riding safely in a comfortable, climate-controlled bus, is visible almost everywhere I go in and around Lynchburg, standing as symbol of my shame!

But seeing this mountain as I am driving around, I also think about giving myself a second chance to actually climb it one day. But it’s been a year and a half, and I am still waiting for that perfect day, that day when I don’t have so many other things on my calendar, that day when the weather conditions are just right, when the wind is calm, when I know there’s going little temperature change from the bottom to the top, when the snakes, ticks, bears, coyotes and poison ivy are more scarce, and, of course, when I am in a little better physical shape.

There are so many obstacles to climb a mountain! So many excuses that can be made. Because glory doesn’t happen without some thoughtful planning, some arduous work, some risk of danger, some level of endurance, and even some pain.

On the way to glory, there can be twists and turns. And I am not just talking about ankles and knees. On the way up, sometimes you may have to take a downward turn, even curving around backwards, before heading back up. And because of that, the road is always long. A short mile and a half can take hours.

Unseen forces like gravity are constantly working against you, wearing you down, pulling you in the opposite direction, doing all it can to slow you down, or stop you in your tracks. Yes, there’s some hope on the journey. In some places there are glimpses of the summit, but there’s also self-doubt on the journey and moments of despair.

Perhaps that is why Jesus took Peter, James and John and went mountain climbing—to teach them that glory doesn’t happen without some work. That any vision of the culmination of the law and the prophets and the messiah cannot be seen, transformation and transfiguration cannot occur, liberation and reconciliation cannot be experienced without some serious climbing, without some risk along the way, without unseen forces and entities wearing you down along the way, without a few setbacks along the way.

Perhaps Jesus was trying to teach them that when it comes to real change, glorious change, there’s no such thing as a convenient and comfortable bus that is going to pick you up to take you safely and quickly to the summit. Reaching the summit takes hard work. It takes much energy, and a lot of time. It takes courage, and it takes faith.

So, maybe that is why Luke follows the story of Jesus and the disciples’ mountain climbing adventure with the story of a boy possessed by some dark and evil force.

Now we can only speculate what kind of evil tormented that boy, that put him in physical, psychosocial, or spiritual chains. Maybe he had epilepsy, a traumatic brain injury, or some other disability. But maybe the systems of his day had put him in some place of disadvantage. Perhaps he suffered discrimination and prejudice because of the color of his skin. Maybe he was suffering from the sting of rejection for being non-binary or gay.

We just know that the disciples were unable to do anything to begin to liberate to the boy, to break the chains, to challenge the systems of injustice, to confront the wicked authorities and evil forces that were oppressing the boy, that were refusing to see the image of God in the boy. And like my inability to climb Sharp Top Mountain, I am sure they had plenty of excuses. Maybe they were waiting for some quick and easy solution.

Thus, comes the scathing indictment from Jesus: “You faithless and perverse generation!”

Jesus says to those who claim to be his followers but fail to do the holy work of liberation: “You faithless and perverse generation!” Can you imagine Jesus saying such a thing today? I think you can—

As we are certainly witnessing a perversion of the gospel as a large swath of Christianity has been corrupted to favor a faithless authoritarian over a faithful patriot, favor billionaires over the poor, and favor the privileged (whether that privilege comes from race, gender, sexuality, or money), over anyone who is different.

The world dashes the poor against the rocks of hunger, war, and greed every day. In the words of theologian Cláudio Carvalhaes: “The economic beast controlled by a few demons is making people [today] convulse day and night.”

The immigrant, the refugee, the homeless, the incarcerated, the sick who cannot afford their medications, the mothers who work three jobs to make a minimum wage to feed her children, the trans boy or girl unseen by their country, the victims of mass deportation, the broken families, the traumatized children—they are all like that boy, “thrown into the shadows of our society, convulsing day and night right in front of us!”

And the Christians who have resisted worshipping the beast, those whose faith has not been perverted— those who listen the cries of the left-out and left-behind, who listen to the laments from their friends who are from Ukraine or know people in Ukraine, or are farmers, researchers, or federal workers—we can certainly feel powerless. We can become frozen in our tracks, not knowing what to do, what steps to take to break the chains. And if we can’t find an easy solution or some quick fix, find a meme on social media that will quickly change some minds, come up with some program or event to make it all right, make some real progress to give us some instant gratification, we can become stuck, paralyzed, and, then do absolutely nothing. And we become like the disciples who are rebuked by Jesus.

Yes, perhaps Luke tells us the story of the disciples’ failure to liberate the boy on the heels of the story of the Mount of Transfiguration to teach us that the path to transformation, liberation, restoration, and reconciliation, the road to justice, equity, and freedom, is like climbing a mountain.

It is a long, tedious journey. It is a risky, difficult, hopeful, and sometimes disappointing process. Along the way, there are always forces working against us. One moment we can see the summit and the next moment, a cloud of doubt rolls in, and we wonder if reaching the summit is ever a possibility. Sometimes we take three steps forward only to take four steps backward.

As I reflect back on Black History Month, I become irritated, as I have heard people talk about the Civil Rights movement like it is ancient history, that the fight for equality and justice has been won, that racism is an evil from the past which has been defeated, a sin of the country that should be forgiven, and even forgotten. That we have somehow reached the mountaintop that Martin Luther King Jr referenced in his sermon on April 3, 1968, the day before his assassination.

When the truth is that the Civil Rights movement is far from over. In 2025, the work of justice and liberation continues. The road to glory and reconciliation is a long road that faithful people are traveling today. We are still climbing to reach Dr. King’s mountaintop. While we’re making some headway, there are powerful forces pulling us back.

That is why I believe the season of Lent is so important for the follower of Jesus. For Lent has been called a journey to resurrection, a journey to glory. And there are too many Christians today who ignore or skip this journey by hopping on a bus to get straight to Easter!

That’s why the most attended Christian worship service is on Easter Sunday, while the least attended service is on Ash Wednesday or on Maundy Thursday or Good Friday.

However, Ash Wednesday and Lent remind us that the journey to glory takes some contrition, it requires some sacrifice, it involves some work. It is hard work, but it is also holy work. It is the work we were created by God to do, the road we are called by to travel, the mountain we are destined by God to climb. Thus, when we are climbing, every step we take is on holy ground.

And yes, there will be setbacks. There will be times of disappointment, even moments of despair. But Lent teaches us that those of us with a faith that has not been perverted must keep climbing.

When a citizen calls our LGBTQ neighbors abominations at a public meeting of the city council, we must keep climbing.

And when that citizen claims he has suffered religious persecution after he is surprisingly reprimanded by a council member, we must keep climbing.

When we realize our nation is no longer the leader of the free world for the very first time in our lifetime, we must keep climbing.

While perverse politics seek to turn back to clock on civil rights, school segregation, voting rights, and women’s rights, we must keep climbing.

As a faithless and perverse congress tries to take away Medicaid from our most vulnerable citizens among us, we must keep climbing.

When our friends, family or coworkers try to talk us down from the mountain, when unseen forces are pulling us down, when the wicked winds howl and knock us down, we must get up, and keep climbing.

When we are gaslighted by the perverted and faithless privileged, telling us that we no longer have to climb, that we have already reached the summit, we must keep climbing.

And knowing that we may not reach the mountaintop and witness the glory in our lifetimes, we are going to train our children, and if we live long enough, our children’s children, to keep climbing.

Knowing that when we climb, wherever we are on the journey, whatever position or situation we may find ourselves in, when we climb, even if we are pushed back and knocked off our feet, when we climb, even if we are crawling down on our hands and knees, when we climb, we are always on holy ground.

Listen to Him

 

Mark 9:2-9 NRSV

Jesus took just a few of his disciples, Peter, James, and John, with him up a high mountain by themselves.

I believe that is exactly where Jesus wants to take us this morning. He wants to take all of us here this morning, who represent just a few of his disciples in this world, up a high mountain.

Up high to a sacred, transcendent place where we can see the world around us more fully; and thus, see ourselves more honestly and see Jesus more abundantly— Up high to a holy place where our eyes are magnified, and our senses are heightened to a brand new, illuminated reality.

And there, by ourselves, Jesus wants to spend some very intimate moments with us. He wants to personally speak to us, speak to our hearts in a way that will transfigure us, transform us, change us forever.

So, this morning, right now, I want to invite you to take Jesus by the hand, and just for a few moments, leave behind your world, all your troubles and burdens, all the plans that you have already made for this day, even for this hour, and allow Jesus to take you up high to this place that we all need to go.

So, let’s go. Let’s take his hand and walk with him. Although we do not know exactly where we’re going, and although we do not even always fully understand who this Jesus is who is leading us, let’s just follow—let us faithfully, and even somewhat fearfully, follow our Lord as he leads us upward.

As soon as we get to the top, somehow, some mysterious way, although it is beyond our mortal comprehension, it is revealed to us that this Jesus is the fulfillment of the Hebrew Scriptures. He is the culmination of the Law and Moses and the messages of Elijah and the prophets. For a moment, however fleeting, our eyes see it. And our ears hear an affirmation. It is inexplicable, yet undeniable: A divine affirmation that he is none other than the beloved Son of God sent into the world, not to condemn the world, but to save the world (John 3:17).

It is a magnificent scene. We are standing in the very majestic presence of the Holy One,—the creator of all that is. We are enveloped by Love, Love’s self. We are so enamored that we want nothing more than to make this place our home.

 As we are begging to stay, we are interrupted by what first sounds like thunder. In our fearful silence we hear three words from heaven that we’ve have heard before. In fact, we heard it the very first time we met this Jesus, the first time we heard Matthew, Mark, Luke and John tell his story, the first time we heard him speak, but this time we hear it even more convincingly, more credibly and more divinely: “Listen to him.”

The words are so real and so true, that even if it is just for a moment, all of our doubt vanishes, as we recognize that these three words, this holy command is the key to not only our salvation and the salvation of all humanity, but it is the key for the redemption of all creation.

 We cannot help but to fall to the ground. Awe and fear and wonder paralyze us. Unable to move, barely able to breathe, our heart feeling like it is about to beat out of our chest, his hand reaches out and touches us. A peace beyond all understanding overshadows us (Phil 4:4). And we look up and the only one we see, the only thing we see is Jesus…like we’ve never seen him before.

 And we listen to him as he looks us in the eyes, calls us by name, and fulfills the holy scriptures in our hearing by saying:

I am your God, and I am Love. In love, I created you and formed you with my own hands. Before you knew me, I knew you; and before you loved me, I loved you (Jer 1:5). I love you with all that I am, with a love that is without conditions, without reservations and without limits (Rom 5:8). Please understand what this means. I do not love you like the Pharisees who say that they love you but hate your sin. For my love does not keep a record of wrongdoing (1 Cor 13:5). Please know that in my eyes, your sins have been removed as far as the east is from the west (Psalm 103:12) and my love for you will never end (1 Cor 13:8).

Listen to me, you must know that there is absolutely nothing in all of creation, in heaven or on earth, not even death, that can ever separate you from my love (Rom 8:39).

Please do not doubt that I will never leave nor forsake you (Deut 31:6). I am the God of love, mercy and compassion. I am the God of empathy and grace. I love you with a love that cannot be earned and can never be forfeited simply because you are my beloved children (2 Cor 6:18).

You were created by me, you came from me; therefore, like branches to a vine (John 15:5) you are a part of me. And when your journey of life on this earth ends, you will return to me. Listen to me, for I want you to continue this journey consciously with me, alongside me. Because I want you to forever be with me, so close to me that you always know that my grace envelops you, my love enfolds you (Luke 13:34).

I know all of your thoughts. I hear all of your words. I see all of your actions. I am aware of all of your inactions. I know the best you. I know the potential you. And I know the worst you. And I even know the potential evil within you. And I love you. I love you because you are beautiful, made in my own image, an expression of my most intimate love (Psalm 139 and Gen 1:27).

Please do not judge yourself. Don’t ever do that. And never let the judgment of others bother you. Let my love touch the deepest, most hidden corners of your soul and reveal your own beauty, a beauty that you have lost sight of, but which will be revealed to you again in the light of my grace (Psalm 139:7).

Listen to me. For I want this to be the very heart of your faith in me. Your faith is not about right beliefs or even right actions. Your faith is not about being against this or that, nor is it about being for this or that. The core of your faith is about your identity, your very being, as my beloved child, as a part of me (Gal 2:20).

This is the joy of living in the Spirit. This is what you taste even now on this mountain. My face shines. Even my garments are aglow. For my heart, my core, my very being is infused with the love of God, and so is yours. Listen to me, and your face will shine also (Gal 5:16-26).

Listen to me. Take and eat, for this is my body broken and given for you. Eat, chew, swallow my love for you. You don’t have to fully comprehend it, just accept it, eat it, let it go into your body and always remember that you are what you eat (Matt 26:26). You are my body. Remember, when Saul was persecuting the Church, I asked him, “Saul, why are you persecuting me?” For you are the embodiment of my love in this world.

Take this cup and drink. Drink my grace. Consume my forgiveness. And then be what you drink. This is your identity. This is who you are. This is how you live. Live in the Spirit of my love that is inside of you, apart of you, and you will bear the fruits of that Spirit (Col 1).

I know that this world is fragile and fragmented. Death, divorce, disease, discrimination, bigotry, violence, greed and the lust for power are everywhere. But listen to me. So am I. I am everywhere suffering with you. When you weep, I weep (John 11:35).

But I am also there resurrecting, redeeming, restoring, re-creating. I am everywhere working all things together for the good. I am everywhere wringing whatever good can be wrung out of every tragedy. I am everywhere in this world transforming despair into hope; transfiguring brokenness into wholeness, and changing death into life, because I love this world and every creature in it. That is why I am here (Rom 8:28).

It is also why you are here (John 20:21).

So, come closer to me, let me wipe away your tears (Rev. 21:4), let my mouth come close to your ear and say to you again and again, I love you. I love you. I love you. Let me say it until you not only believe it, but become it, be it, live it. Let my love flow through you (John 15:5).

We say, “Jesus, it is good that we stay here forever!”

But Jesus responds by telling us what we already knew. It is now time to come down from the mountain. But unlike the time the first disciples who went with him to this sacred higher ground, Jesus tells us to share this experience with all people (Matthew 28:19).

As we walk down the mountain with Jesus, we ask: “Why did you want Peter, James, and John to wait to share their experience until after your death and resurrection?”

And Jesus responds:

My love for you and for this world is so deep, my grace is so wide, my mercy is so high that no one would believe it unless God did something absolutely earth shaking (Eph 3:18).

 To reveal the height the breadth and the depth of God’s love for this world, God came into the world offering the world the very best gift that God had to offer. God came into the world knowing that people, especially the people who claimed to be the people of God, would not receive that gift and would nail that gift to a tree. And God would resurrect that gift giving that gift right back to the very ones who crucified him (John 1:11).

Thus, revealing to all of creation, that if God can turn around the killing of God, then there is nothing that God cannot turn around. If God can resurrect, redeem, restore the killing of God, then there is hope for us all (Rom 8:11).

And with all of creation, we are changed. We are transformed. We are forever transfigured (2 Cor 5:17).

Bright-Eyed and Bushy-Tailed

Life is short

Luke 9:28-36 NRSV

One day, mama called me to tell me that her favorite first cousin had passed away.  He was only 63.  I then shared with her that I had just received news that a good friend who was in my class from college died very suddenly that week. I then proceeded to offer my sincere empathy.

It was then that mama started preaching as only my mama can.  There is never any sugar-coating with mama. It is always and only the truth and that truth comes at you so hard, sometimes is like getting hit upside the head!

Mama said, “Jarrett, your life could end any day just like that.”

I then heard this clicking sound. I said, “Mama, what is that.”

She said, “That was me snapping my fingers.”

“Jarrett, life is just a vapor, so you better be sure they make the most the little time you have left.”

As much as it pains me to admit it, the truth is, mama could not be more right.  She always speaks the truth whether or not she thinks I can handle the truth. This journey, this trip, this ride we call life is a relatively short one. And it would be a shame for any of us to miss it.

A preacher tells a story of sitting on airplane waiting to take off.  His seat number was 14D. The woman next to him sat in 14E.  No two seat mates could have ever been more different.

From her dress you could tell she was far from sophisticated. His finely pressed suit and shining shoes reflected affluence and sophistication. From her talk you could tell she was but a simple country woman.

He sat there beside her with his leather brief case and laptop computer.  She was surrounded by all kinds sacks and bundles.

It was obvious that she hadn’t had much experience with flying. “I don’t do this much,” she grinned. “Do you?”

He politely nodded a “yes.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky, that must be a lot of fun,”  She said.

He groaned—for he knew that it was going to be a long flight.

She volunteered that she was going to Dallas to see her son. And she filled in all the blanks—the boy has had the flu, a stomach virus really.  He’s had stomach problems every since he was a baby.  He has a back lab. The dog’s name was Wilbur. Wilbur is such a good dog. A little hand-full when he was a puppy, but now a lot calmer. As the plane climbed, she looked and pointed out the window. “Ooooooh—would you look at those trees down there; they look just like peat moss.”

People turned around in their seats and stared.  The preacher next to her wanted to crawl under his seat.

The flight attendant came by asking what they’d like to drink.  He quietly asked for a coffee.  His seat mate asked a second time about the choices. “Now tell me again what you’ve got.”

When her drink came she said she didn’t know that apple juice came in cans, but it sure was delicious. “I thought it only came in a great big jug.  I wonder if they got these little cans at the Winn-Dixie.”

And when the sandwich came by she said in way too loud a voice: “Why there’s even a little packet of mayonnaise in here.  Isn’t that cute?”

This went on the whole flight. The little woman did not miss a thing.

The preacher said that the men in front of them were discussing a business trip to Japan. The fellow behind them must have been a nervous wreck for he kept ordering two beers at a time. The woman across the aisle had important-looking papers stacked all around her. And as he opened his laptop and began to work, it occurred to him that the only person on the whole plane who was truly enjoying the trip was the crazy woman sitting next to him.

When the plane finally landed, she turned and said, “Now wasn’t that a fun trip?”  And as he watched her head down the aisle and leave the plane, he began to wonder: What was it that she had that he didn’t have?  What was it that she knew that he didn’t know?  Why had she enjoyed the whole trip from beginning to end while he was absolutely miserable?

Jesus took three disciples up to the top of a mountain. It was the midpoint in Jesus’ journey. The clouds were hanging over his ministry. The Pharisees and Saducees were making it increasingly difficult for him.  His disciples were constantly bickering with one another. Jesus was beginning to talk to them about suffering, Jerusalem and the cross. He talked about saving one’s life by losing it. He talked about dying to self to live forever.  And the disciples didn’t really understand any of it.

And then Jesus took Peter, James and John to very top of a high mountain, and there on the mountaintop something happened.  We’re not sure what occurred, but they called it transfiguration, which means transformation, change, metamorphosis. They began to see things that they had never before seen; more importantly, they began to see Jesus in a way that they had had never before seen.  Even Jesus’ clothes were transformed.

Then God spoke, saying, just as he did at Jesus’ baptism: “This is my son, the beloved…Listen to him.”  Listen.

This encounter turned the disciples inside out. It changed their lives and they were never quite the same again.

Now, you may be wondering what this story of Jesus has to do with the woman and the preacher on the airplane.  The answer is: Absolutely everything.

Roger Lovette has said that there comes a time when all of us need to disengage. From time to time all of us need to stop, look and listen.  We need to quit doing and just be. That’s very difficult for most of us living in the 21st century. For most of us believe we always gotta be busy doing something.

Robert Fulghum tells about a woman who was so stressed out she went to see a psychiatrist. After listening to her for a long time, he wrote out a prescription and handed it to her. She read the words the doctor had written: “Spend one hour on Sunday watching the sunrise while walking in the cemetery.”  Against her better judgment she followed the advice. One Sunday morning, as the sun came up, she stood in a cemetery, listening to the birds and watching the world come alive all around her. On that morning, she found herself back in touch with her life again.

We need to open our eyes to truly see the miracle of this wonderful journey we call life. On her journey, the woman on the plane saw. And the preacher sitting beside her missed the whole experience.

2 Peter 1:16 reads: “We have been eyewitnesses to majesty.”  What a wonderful thing to say about the Church!  One paraphrase says: You do well to pay attention. For when we pay attention, everything changes.  We may see things that we’ve never seen before.

Frederick Buechner has said in one of my favorite quotes:

if you really keep your eyes peeled to it and your ears open, if you really pay attention to it, even in the most limited situations, God through life itself has something to teach you.”  “Taking your children to school.  Kissing your wife goodbye.  Eating lunch with a friend.  Trying to do a decent day’s work.  Hearing the rain patter against the window. There is no event so commonplace that God is not present within it, always hiddenly, always leaving room to recognize him or not to recognize him, but all the more fascinatingly because of that, all the more compellingly and hauntingly.

Buechner continues:

If I were called upon to state in a few words the essence of everything I was trying to say as a novelist and a preacher it would be something like this: Listen to your life.  See it for the fathomless mystery that it is.  In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness:  touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis, all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.

When we pay attention to life, everything changes. We are given a brand new perspective. The transfiguration text says that when it was all over the disciples saw only Jesus.  The disciples were able to see the big picture. They remembered God had said, “This is my beloved Son.”  Thus, even when Jesus suffered, they would later understand that God was in it.  Even if it did not work out the way they thought it would—God was in it.  Not causing the pain, not willing the suffering, but present, working in it, transforming it, changing it, resurrecting it.

Very slowly they began to see this was a large thing, —this Jesus, this thing called discipleship, this thing called the church, this glorious thing called life.  And it was all sheer grace—unmerited, undeserved.  And everything changed.

Before I started running with Ainsley’s Angels, I would play golf with a group of retired men from my church. Most were in their mid to late-seventies, some in their eighties. One was ninety.

One sunny morning, as I walked up to join the group at the tee box, I remember making as casual remark: “It sure is a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

One of the men said, “Preacher, every day I wake up is a beautiful day.”  The other retired gents were quick to respond by saying, “Amen.”

Like the woman on the plane, the woman in the cemetery and the disciples on the mountain, those retired golfers saw it, they saw it.  My prayer is that all of us will be able to see it too. May we take some time to stop, look, and listen. May we slow down and pay attention. Open our eyes to see the sheer grace of it all. And then thank God for it. And live our lives being eternally grateful for it. Taking nothing for granted.

Life is short.  Life is a vapor. Our lives are going to be over before we know it.  Just like that (snap fingers).  I pray that none of us miss it.