What did we miss?

Posted on by

None of us likes to be interrupted in the middle of an important conversation. I remember a moment like that when 3 of us were having a discussion and a 4th came in, striding up to our group.

“Hi, guys,” she said, disrupting the flow of ideas and forcing a subject change. It was the perfect example of being on two different wave lengths, and we stared at her while mentally trying to switch gears. We never got to finish the first conversation, and I fought resentment about that for a long time.

This morning in church our pastoral intern gave a thought-provoking sermon about the transfiguration. Stirred to learn more, I went home and studied the accounts told in 3 of the 4 Gospels.

On one side of the equation were Peter, James and John. On the other, Jesus, Moses and Elijah. The 3 disciples apparently recognized these Old Testament saints, in itself a miracle, and cautiously approached the 3 other-worldly conversationalists as a discussion was already in progress. Scripture doesn’t say if they overheard the words, but it does tell us what was being talked about: Jesus’ upcoming departure from the earth.

This was, most likely, an animated dialogue. Moses and Elijah might have been expressing joy in learning their Savior would soon be returning to paradise (where they lived), after 33 years as a human. Or maybe they were getting information about the upcoming crucifixion, mourning over the suffering Jesus might have been describing. Or they might have been learning of the resurrection. It’s probable they were all praying, too, since Jesus had told Peter, James and John ahead of time that that’s what they were going to do.

In any case, Peter interrupted this momentous conversation with an inane and inappropriate suggestion: “Let’s set up 3 tents so you can all live here indefinitely!”

I can just see Jesus, Moses and Elijah as they stopped talking and turned simultaneously toward Peter much like my friends and I did when we were interrupted. But unbeknownst to Peter, James and John, a very powerful 4th person was about to enter the conversation: God the Father.

Scripture says that while Peter was still talking, God interrupted him. In a cloak of cloud so dense it frightened them, he forcefully silenced Peter by saying, “Listen to my Son!”

In other words, “Stop babbling, Peter! Don’t you realize the importance of this once-in-a-lifetime conversation? Hush up and listen!” God’s chiding was effective, and the 3 instantly (and silently) dropped face-to-the-dirt for the remainder of the event.

But what about that interrupted conversation between Jesus, Moses and Elijah? Had Peter ruined it for them? Did they ever get to finish it? And if Peter, James and John had quietly stood by listening in on that remarkable exchange rather than interrupting it, what might have happened next?

(…concluded tomorrow)

“While [Peter] was still speaking, a bright cloud covered them, and a voice from the cloud said, ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!’“ (Matthew 17:5)

Travel-size Worship

Posted on by

It seemed an oxymoron to be attending a worship service between an airport security check and the gate check-in, but that’s what happened when I flew to Florida recently. While hiking along the crowded walkways at Chicago’s Midway Airport, a loudspeaker announcement rose above the racket: “All are welcome to join us for a 30 minute Christian service in the chapel on the mezzanine level.”

I had some extra time before my flight, and curiosity urged me toward the chapel. Maybe it was God himself urging me. Although thousands of travelers marched with purpose down the wide corridors, I wondered how many would divert to the chapel.

Following signs depicting a kneeling figure, I rode the elevator to the “M” floor and found the chapel. A pastor had just begun the service by reciting the 100th Psalm, arms outstretched, face toward heaven, and eyes closed. His congregation was 5 members, each seated next to their carry-on luggage.

When the pastor saw me, he walked over and delivered a welcome, a handshake, a bulletin, and a New Testament. “Come right in and have a seat,” he said. “We’re about to take prayer requests.”

His mini-service proceeded according to the bulletin, and I asked prayer for the big event bringing me to Florida: the home birth of my 6th grandchild. The pastor asked for Linnea and Adam’s first names, then prayed with passion for many wonderful birth-time blessings. His mini-message followed, taken from John 4, the story of a woman at her local watering well. “Jesus was a weary traveler,” the preacher said, “just like some of you might be.”

He described this biblically rare encounter between Jesus and just one other person, no one else around. “She was traveling through life carrying a lot of baggage,” the pastor said, using another airport metaphor. “And Jesus was ready with wonderful refreshment.”

As he concluded, the pastor said, “I know you all have planes to catch, so we’ll close in prayer. Feel free to take your Bibles along with you.” He ended by offering to talk one-on-one with any who might want that, and one young man did stay behind.

Apparently every large US airport has a chapel where travelers can find quietness and a place to pray. It’s nice to know God is waiting there in a calm, private place conducive to a peaceful meeting amidst the very stressful environment of an airport.

Of course he’s also in line at security, seated at every gate, and traveling on every flight, too. That’s good to know, since I’ll be back at the airport this weekend, heading home.

“As for me, it is good to be near God. I have made the Sovereign Lord my refuge.” (Psalm 73:28)

Working at It

Posted on by

There’s nothing like young children to make sure their parents and grandparents are accountable to the truth. When we read them a story and try to shorten it by skipping a few words, they interrupt and point out we missed a line. If we promise to play hide-and-seek as soon as nap time is over, they don’t forget. And when we say we love them, they’re watching continually for a demonstration of that.

These dynamics are probably part of God’s teaching of parents and grandparents, this accountability-to-children factor. It becomes ongoing motivation for us to practice living responsibly. An added dimension of this is that God wants us to act with similar accountability toward him. Interestingly, sometimes he prompts it exactly as children do.

“You haven’t told the whole truth,” he tells us, “so your lie-of-omission will come back to bite you.” This echoes a preschooler’s comment, “You skipped a line of the story.”

Or God might say, “Didn’t you promise to talk to me at the beginning of each day?” When we promise, we should follow through… like we do with that hide-and-seek game after naps.

And just like little ones watch for our loving behavior toward them, God longs for that from us, in response to him.

Young children seem to love their parents no matter what. They generously give them the benefit of every doubt, even when parental behavior is neutral toward them or, amazingly, even when it’s abusive. Some of it might be need-based since they have no one else to turn to, but there’s also a component of brightly-burning hope that refuses to be snuffed out by contrary circumstances.

These two relational pieces, loving no matter what and brightly-burning hope, are also present in our bond with the Lord. When our behavior isn’t loving toward him or even borders on abusive, his response is still, “I’ll love you no matter what.” Additionally he sets up unnumbered opportunities for us to demonstrate our love to him, having a brightly-burning hope that our actions will reinforce our words.

God consistently uses earthly parenthood as a biblical image of his relationship with us, attempting to eliminate some of our confusion about him. He encourages us to call him “Father” and expects human dads to be ongoing models in relating to their children of how he treats them.

But God knows that’s a tall order. Just stretching toward it is all any parent needs to do to bring delight to the Lord. Although we ought to read the whole storybook, play that post-nap game, and act consistently in love, we can’t always do it.

When that happens, God understands. But he also hopes we’ll keep on trying.

“Your love has meant hard work, and the hope that you have in our Lord Jesus Christ means sheer dogged endurance in the life that you live before God, the Father of us all.” (1 Thessalonians 1:3)