God's Home

Can you imagine what it would have been like to have been Peter, James or John on the side of the mountain with Jesus? I’m sure they had expectations for the hike: a chance to be near the Teacher, a chance to get away for a little while, a chance to be in nature and recharge, where the only thing you can hear at night is the buzz of the sleeping insects and the hum of the planets in perfect alignment. Perhaps they had visions of sleeping under the shooting stars, or hearing stories just meant for them, or maybe they were just looking forward to some time with the guys. Whatever their expectations were, they were blown out of the water.

While they were on the mountain, something about Jesus changed. Something about the disciples changed. Something about the way God is and the way we are changed. The Transfiguration was a revelation, an Epiphany, and so I suppose it’s appropriate that Matthew 17 marks the end of this season.

Jesus’ face shone like the brightness of day and his clothes were dazzling white. As they watched, Jesus struck up a conversation with Moses and Elijah. What they said to each other, who knows? Perhaps Moses looked Peter, James and John up and down and said, “Are you serious? Was there nobody else in Galilee that day?” Maybe Elijah rolled his eyes and sighed, giving Jesus a knowing smile. But these two weren’t just any old conversation partners, a couple of random examples thrown into the mix to make things interesting.

Both Moses and Elijah experienced God’s presence in the face of great doubt. Moses had led the people out of slavery in Egypt, and while he was busy receiving the commandments on Mount Sinai, the Israelites decided to make a god for themselves because God didn’t seem present enough. God, after Moses’ intercession on behalf of the people, decided not to destroy them. Now, as a punishment, Moses and the people were to travel without the divine Presence. Again, Moses intercedes and God acquiesces: God will travel with them. And then Moses asks to see the presence of God, and catches a glimpse of God’s backside:

¹⁸Moses said, ‘Show me your glory, I pray.’ ¹⁹And he said, ‘I will make all my goodness pass before you, and will proclaim before you the name, “The Lord”;^* and I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy. ²⁰But’, he said, ‘you cannot see my face; for no one shall see me and live.’ ²¹And the Lord continued, ‘See, there is a place by me where you shall stand on the rock; ²²and while my glory passes by I will put you in a cleft of the rock, and I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by; ²³then I will take away my hand, and you shall see my back; but my face shall not be seen.’

Elijah, on the other hand, was done. After his faithful service to God, the only repayment he had was the evil queen Jezebeel seeking his life. Hiding in a cave, God comes to Elijah and says, “What are you doing here?” Elijah responds: Well, I’ve been doing your work, but the Israelites have forsaken you, and now I’m the only faithful one, and – so much that does for me – now they want to kill me. Fat lot of good being your prophet does me. But God said to Elijah: “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; ¹²and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. ¹³When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.”

No, these were not random examples given to heighten the oddity of this story. Both Moses and Elijah had experienced the revelation of God – a theophany. And now, Peter, James and John were seeing the revelation of Christ for who he was: the revelation of God. Perhaps the main difference between Moses, Elijah and the disciples is that God was revealed to Moses and Elijah in the face of their doubt and fear, whereas the revelation of Christ happened in anticipation of their doubt. The journey down the mountain, the journey to the cross, the journey to the end of the story was going to be long and arduous, lined with the blinding absence of hope and the deafening sound of silence.

Sometimes, it seems all that God reveals to us in the face of our fear and doubt is the divine backside and the shattering silence of unanswered prayer. In the face of our doubt, the revelation of God seems so invisible, so silent.

Peter, thinking this is it, this is the revelation of the Messiah, this is the end of the story, says: “Lord, it’s good for us to be here; if you want, I will make three tents here: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” “Peter, Peter, Peter,” I imagine Jesus saying, “what about your tent? Where will you live?” This might have been the revelation Peter hoped for, but it wasn’t the sort of revelation that would save him.

Jesus is not the sort of God that remains on the mountain, distant and aloof. Jesus is not the sort of God that walks silently alongside as our doubt and our fear cloud our minds. Jesus walks straight into our fear, straight into our capacity for destruction, straight into the deafening silence of grief, fear and doubt because the revelation of God doesn’t really happen on the mountain. It happens on the cross. It requires the long journey down the mountain, the journey to the cross, and the journey into new life. This is the journey of a God who takes our suffering into himself.

Visibly revealed on the cross, the shattering silence of God breaks through all of the noise, revealing God’s presence. This is the presence that walks with us through our own fear, our own grief, our own death. This is no normal God, cast in an image we created. This is the God who is revealed in the face of our uncertainty and doubt.

This is the God who walks down the mountain because his home is with us, in the doubt, in the fear, in the depths of the darkness of humanity, revealed in the blinding grief and shattering silence of the cross, revealed in the glorious light of the Easter Dawn and in the shouts of Alleluia.

The journey up the mountain only makes sense after the journey down. The glory of God revealed on the mountain is the same glory revealed on the cross: it is the revelation of a God who refuses to be invisible, who refuses to be silent in the face of our fear and doubt. This is the glory of a God who has taken our fear and doubt on to himself so that we might see clearly that God’s home is not on the mountain, distant and aloof: God’s home is with you, walking with you in your doubt and in your fear.