Sometimes a glimpse is all you need. A lot of us keep photos of family around to remind us of who we love and who loves us. Soldiers and police officers often have a picture of their family tucked into a pocket, or we have a picture of our spouse, children, or grandchildren as the wallpaper on our phones. And when we catch a glimpse of that photo, it becomes something like our north star, our reminder of why it is we’re off to work at a job we don’t particularly want to be at, or makes us excited for when we’ll get to see them again.
I
remember before each of our girls was born, a glimpse of the sonogram photo
would remind me of the excitement that was about to come. Or, leading up to the
day of our wedding, I had a daily countdown on my computer and a glimpse of the
descending days made it seem more real. It’s also why homes and churches are
decorated with religious art – whether it’s an icon or a cross, having those
things around allows us to steal glimpses of the grace that defies explanation,
of the love that is making all things well.
We
need these glimpses that give us comfort, strength, and hope. Having photos that
put a smile on our faces are worth their weight in gold. Souvenirs and mementos
that remind us of the things that matter most are probably the most valuable
objects we have. And this is especially true given how difficult life can be.
It’s a standard trope you can find in almost every movie. At some point, the
hero will encounter a struggle that seems to defeating and final. But in that
moment of resignation, they catch a glimpse of something – maybe a memory, a
word, a person – and their strength is renewed like that of an eagle.
I’m sure we all can think
of that storyline in a book or television show. The one that first comes to my
mind is in Disney’s Frozen II – when Anna finds herself stuck in a pit, her
sister presumably dead, and their snowman friend, Olaf, has been reduced to a
pile of lifeless snow. “Hello, darkness, I’m ready to succumb,” she sings. But
then there is a glimpse of hope. She says “A tiny voice whispers in my mind, ‘You
are lost, hope is gone. But you must go on and do the next right thing.’” With
that glimpse and spark of hope, she is able to do the next right thing and she
becomes the true hero in a movie that’s mostly about her sister.
And it’s not just in the
movies where those feelings of being overwhelmed come up. It seems like we’re
just a few dominos away from World War III breaking out in the Middle East. Partisanship
is intractable and we still have nine months to go of attack ads, court cases,
pundits, and yard signs. Maybe we’re stuck in a situation, whether it be a relationship,
a diagnosis, or just a phase of life, that is draining us. What gets us through
these tough times is rarely all of our problems just miraculously going away. When
we are in those valleys of the shadow of death, what gets us through isn’t
often a helicopter showing up and whisking us away. More often, it’s a glimpse
of our Good Shepherd’s rod and staff that comforts us and allows us to find our
way through the difficulties and the despair.
If we’re honest, we’ll also
admit that some of the challenges that we face aren’t things that faith will
fix for us because faith itself is the cause of the difficulties. It is as the English
writer GK Chesterton put it, “Christianity has not been tried and found
wanting, it has been found difficult and left untried.” A lot of people think
that faith will be the solution to their problems, but, in reality, faith causes
a whole lot of problems for us. Without faith, I could just write off someone
who annoys me or does me wrong. But because of Jesus, I’ve been given the holy
work of loving them and seeking reconciliation. It would be far easier to hate
my enemies than to love them. Every month, we give 10% of our income to this
parish and other charities. That would be a rather nice European vacation if
Jesus would just stop saying things like “You cannot serve God and wealth.” We
like to set the direction of our own lives and come up with our own priorities,
but Jesus says “Follow me” even if obedience is a dirty word in our culture.
So much of Christianity
cuts across the grain of society. Things like generosity, sacrifice, obedience,
humility, graciousness, and mercy are not things that you’ll see many ads for
in tonight’s Super Bowl or as you scroll social media. Sure, we might lift up
examples of other people showing those virtues. We might even call them “inspiring.”
But the struggle comes when we hear Jesus’ words, “If anyone would be my
disciple, let them deny themselves, take up a cross, and follow me.”
Sure, we want the
benefits of faith – moral formation for our kids, community and fellowship,
lovely music to listen to, a sense of meaning and purpose in life – but when we
hear about giving 10% of our income, forgiving our enemies, and structuring our
weekends around church attendance instead of chores and leisure, we think, “You
know, I can teach my kids about morals. And I can find community at Rotary or
the Club. And my career and family give me enough purpose in life.”
To be clear, I’m all in
favor of jobs, families, community, and character development – but none of
those things are perfect, none of them are capable of being the absolute
foundation of our lives, and none of them loved us before we were born or can
give life to the dead. A lot of bad things happen when we confuse the blessings
of life for the foundation of our lives. If we look to our careers, bank
accounts, resumes, or family vacation photos to be the measure of our lives, we’ll
constantly be trying to level up, constantly looking over our shoulders to see
how much other people have.
But, as you might have
figured out, life doesn’t have levels. This isn’t a game. Our families and
friends are blessings meant to enrich our lives, not commodities to make our lives
worth living. That’s an incredibly heavy and impossible burden to put on another
person – to say that you are responsible for my purpose; it’s downright
oppressive. It takes the blessing of a relationship and reduces it down to functionality.
When Jesus says, “Come to
me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest,”
he tells us this because he knows that he can carry the burden of our sins, of
our finitude, of our meaning. Nothing and no one else can do this. Try as we
might, there is not an alternative to Jesus when it comes to the forgiveness of
Sin, the Resurrection of the Dead, or the love that will fully and completely make
all things well.
Even if following Jesus
cuts across the grain of society and is a challenge, Jesus alone gives us the
peace that passes all understanding. This though doesn’t mean following Jesus
is necessarily easy or that it comes naturally. The world is a busy and
distracting place. If we were all monks who just sat around all day contemplating
God, sure, maybe we would find ourselves to be firmly grounded in faith. But probably
not. Read the spiritual writings of mystics and nuns and they all have the same
struggles that you and I have – Where is God? How do I control these
temptations? Why am I here?
And this is why we need
glimpses of the glory and grandeur of God’s love to support us in faith, to
assure us of our belovedness, to help us enjoy our forgiveness, and to make us
confident that all shall be well. This is where the passage from Mark,
generally called “The Transfiguration,” comes in. It comes at a hinge point,
both in the Gospel and in the Church Year. In the story of Jesus, this is the
transition point from the ministry of Jesus’ healing and teaching ministry to
his Passion. That’s why the reading concludes with “He ordered them to tell no
one about this until after he was raised from the dead.” After this Biblical
event, the narrative moves towards Jerusalem and the Cross. We’re also moving
out of the season after the Epiphany, the season in which we’ve been reflecting
upon who Jesus is, and into the season of Lent, the season in which we prepare ourselves
to enter anew into the sacred mystery of our salvation which comes through the
Passion.
As we turn this corner, both
in the narrative and the calendar, we need a glimpse to sustain us. Lent is a
time in which a lot of people choose to take on a discipline of some sort,
either by abstaining from something or by resolving to do something. Whether it’s
giving up chocolate or coming to Morning Prayer a few times a week, these
disciplines will challenge us. After a week or two, we might start to question “Why
am I doing this?” And so it’s this glimpse of Transfiguration that reminds us of
the why – because just as Jesus is seen in dazzling glory, that is also the glory
that we are destined for. And so we give things up and take things on in order
to draw us closer to that glory.
Sometimes glimpses are
like the Transfiguration – they are things that we don’t plan for and catch us
off-guard. When those sorts of glimpses happen, let yourself linger and enjoy
what God is showing you. Something I try to do is always leave a bit of time
between meetings and appointments so that if God is trying to get my attention
as I’m walking downtown, I have time to stop and notice glimpses of grace.
A lot of time though, we
glimpse those things that we have strategically placed in our lives, just like
the photos and keepsakes around our homes and offices. So you might think about
your spaces and schedules and ask “Where have I intentionally put things to
glimpse the glory of God?” You might decide to carry a rosary in your pocket as
an invitation to pray throughout the day. Perhaps you’ll put an icon on your desk
or wall so that you’ll catch a glimpse of it, which will remind you that you
are God’s beloved. Maybe you set a reminder on your phone to say the Lord’s
Prayer at noon each day. You could get an extra bill the next time you go to
the ATM and be on the lookout for a person or charity that you could give it
to. It’s a question of how we arrange our surroundings to catch glimpses of God
all around us.
As we celebrate the St.
Luke’s Foundation today, we glimpse how the Spirit is working among us and
through us in mission and ministry. And, yes, beauty, prayer, Scripture, and Sacraments
are places I get glimpses of God, but a place where I so often get glimpses of God’s
grace is through you all. Through your faithful service to this Parish and in
our community, in your generosity, in your words of encouragement and support,
I get glimpses of God. Thank you for helping me to see God at work in my life.
I wonder, what glimpses of God’s grace have you seen recently? I hope that you’ll
share those glimpses with those around you.
What keeps us going in the
difficult and trying times are glimpses of faith, hope, and love that remind us
that all is being made well by Jesus. Thanks be to the God who comes to us in
so many ways to remind us and assure us that we are already forgiven and always
loved.
