After six days Jesus took with him Peter, James and John the brother of James, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. There he was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light. Just then there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, talking with Jesus. Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters - one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” Matthew 17:1-4
Sometimes you see something absolutely wonderful - a baby laughing, a beautiful piece of countryside, someone you love receiving a prize or award. And your immediate instinct is to “capture the moment”. So out comes your camera and - click! - you have a photo which can bring you pleasure for years to come.
Except, of course, that you haven’t really captured the moment at all; only an image of it. The moment itself becomes part of your memory, part of that strange and haunting country we call “the past”, and so recedes remorselessly with every passing moment.
Certainly, a photo is better than nothing. But the moment itself is gone, and gone for ever.
Peter, James and John have just experienced something utterly beyond their dreams. Jesus has taken them up a mountain - and not to admire the view. No; they witness a strange and awesome transformation of him: “His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light” (can you picture it?).
They can’t take in what’s going on. And I assume that that’s why Peter, in a state of confusion and shock, makes his offer to “put up three shelters, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah”. (Luke tells us that “he didn’t know what he was saying”.)
Somewhere deep down in Peter’s soul, was there an urgent voice saying “This moment is too wonderful to let it pass! Hold on to it! Capture it! Make it permanent!”? Not having a camera, he splutters out this slightly pathetic suggestion.
He gets no answer. Not that Jesus deliberately ignores him, but “while he was still speaking, a bright cloud covered them and a voice from the cloud said ‘This is my Son, whom I love... Listen to him’”. Peter’s clumsy voice was simply swamped by the voice from heaven. Who wants to think about building shelters at such a time!
Among lots of other things, the disciples are receiving a lesson which they will digest later if not immediately: no moment or experience, however wonderful, can be frozen, so to speak, or put in a bottle. Just as your camera can only freeze a memory before it begins to fade, so Peter had no way of making this experience last, never mind become permanent.
It’s human nature to want to cling to special moments. And we can even make the mistake of wanting every moment to be special: every service must be a very foretaste of heaven; every sermon must throb with the power of the Holy Spirit; every prayer time must involve spiritual rapture. And so we can be disappointed when this simply doesn’t happen. Life, even a deep spiritual life, just isn’t like that.
We know that later on Peter had other extraordinary visions - take a look, for example, at his roof-top experience in Acts 10. And we know too from Revelation 1 that John had a vision that topped even the transfiguration. But both Peter and John had to wave those experiences good-bye: Peter came down from the roof-top to meet Cornelius the centurion, and John only saw for a limited time the glorious figure standing among the golden lampstands.
The lesson can be summed up very simply: there is still work to be done. When the disciples come down from the mountain they will find a situation of desperate need awaiting their attention: a boy suffering from seizures. Still more, when Jesus himself comes down there will soon be another hill for him to climb: a hill called Calvary or Golgotha, the Place of a Skull...
Work still to be done indeed! - and work can be demanding and draining, tiring and sometimes painful. No wonder we want to cling to the mountain-top moments.
So... relish such moments, of course; savour them. Lock them away in the treasure-trove of your memory; they can strengthen and inspire you when the going gets tough.
But don’t let them dominate your thinking or shape your expectation of what the everyday living of this wonderful Christian life is like. Very often - let’s put it bluntly - it can be just sheer grind, sheer slog. (Isn’t that why the New Testament tells us to cultivate qualities such as “perseverance” and “patience”?)
William Blake (1757-1827) wrote a tiny poem called “Eternity”: “He who binds to himself a joy/ Does the winged life destroy;/ But he who kisses the joy as it flies/ Lives in eternity's sun rise.”
Yes! Catch hold of a beautiful butterfly, and it will quickly die; enjoy it as it flutters by, and it will point you to “eternity’s sunrise” - when such joys will never fade away.
Lord Jesus, help me to live joyfully in the moment with you, but also to be happy to let each moment pass. And so bring me to that day of joys that never end. Amen.
Sometimes you see something absolutely wonderful - a baby laughing, a beautiful piece of countryside, someone you love receiving a prize or award. And your immediate instinct is to “capture the moment”. So out comes your camera and - click! - you have a photo which can bring you pleasure for years to come.
Except, of course, that you haven’t really captured the moment at all; only an image of it. The moment itself becomes part of your memory, part of that strange and haunting country we call “the past”, and so recedes remorselessly with every passing moment.
Certainly, a photo is better than nothing. But the moment itself is gone, and gone for ever.
Peter, James and John have just experienced something utterly beyond their dreams. Jesus has taken them up a mountain - and not to admire the view. No; they witness a strange and awesome transformation of him: “His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light” (can you picture it?).
They can’t take in what’s going on. And I assume that that’s why Peter, in a state of confusion and shock, makes his offer to “put up three shelters, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah”. (Luke tells us that “he didn’t know what he was saying”.)
Somewhere deep down in Peter’s soul, was there an urgent voice saying “This moment is too wonderful to let it pass! Hold on to it! Capture it! Make it permanent!”? Not having a camera, he splutters out this slightly pathetic suggestion.
He gets no answer. Not that Jesus deliberately ignores him, but “while he was still speaking, a bright cloud covered them and a voice from the cloud said ‘This is my Son, whom I love... Listen to him’”. Peter’s clumsy voice was simply swamped by the voice from heaven. Who wants to think about building shelters at such a time!
Among lots of other things, the disciples are receiving a lesson which they will digest later if not immediately: no moment or experience, however wonderful, can be frozen, so to speak, or put in a bottle. Just as your camera can only freeze a memory before it begins to fade, so Peter had no way of making this experience last, never mind become permanent.
It’s human nature to want to cling to special moments. And we can even make the mistake of wanting every moment to be special: every service must be a very foretaste of heaven; every sermon must throb with the power of the Holy Spirit; every prayer time must involve spiritual rapture. And so we can be disappointed when this simply doesn’t happen. Life, even a deep spiritual life, just isn’t like that.
We know that later on Peter had other extraordinary visions - take a look, for example, at his roof-top experience in Acts 10. And we know too from Revelation 1 that John had a vision that topped even the transfiguration. But both Peter and John had to wave those experiences good-bye: Peter came down from the roof-top to meet Cornelius the centurion, and John only saw for a limited time the glorious figure standing among the golden lampstands.
The lesson can be summed up very simply: there is still work to be done. When the disciples come down from the mountain they will find a situation of desperate need awaiting their attention: a boy suffering from seizures. Still more, when Jesus himself comes down there will soon be another hill for him to climb: a hill called Calvary or Golgotha, the Place of a Skull...
Work still to be done indeed! - and work can be demanding and draining, tiring and sometimes painful. No wonder we want to cling to the mountain-top moments.
So... relish such moments, of course; savour them. Lock them away in the treasure-trove of your memory; they can strengthen and inspire you when the going gets tough.
But don’t let them dominate your thinking or shape your expectation of what the everyday living of this wonderful Christian life is like. Very often - let’s put it bluntly - it can be just sheer grind, sheer slog. (Isn’t that why the New Testament tells us to cultivate qualities such as “perseverance” and “patience”?)
William Blake (1757-1827) wrote a tiny poem called “Eternity”: “He who binds to himself a joy/ Does the winged life destroy;/ But he who kisses the joy as it flies/ Lives in eternity's sun rise.”
Yes! Catch hold of a beautiful butterfly, and it will quickly die; enjoy it as it flutters by, and it will point you to “eternity’s sunrise” - when such joys will never fade away.
Lord Jesus, help me to live joyfully in the moment with you, but also to be happy to let each moment pass. And so bring me to that day of joys that never end. Amen.
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