Uh oh, you’re thinking, I’ve been caught. He’s going to point fingers and name names! No more Mister Nice Pastor. Yeah, that’s right. I’ve seen you nodding off out there. Trying to pretend that you are being devout. Or contemplative. The finger to the pursed lips, the heavy lidded eyes as though considering some cogent argument the preacher was making, I see you. All belied by the hypnic jerk and the furtive glances around to see if anyone noticed. They did, by the way, but they pretend like they didn’t. Their eyes are forward; tongues are clamped between teeth so they don’t giggle as you trying to pretend like you aren’t falling asleep. Don’t worry, you are providing a public service by keeping them awake, given them something - anything - to focus on to distract their minds during the dull bits. Like the sermon.
But don’t worry, I’m not going to out you. At least this time. I understand. We lead such active lives that sometimes the simple act of sitting down causes our eyes to drift closed despite our best efforts. Long distance driving can be filled with terror for many riding along with a driver fighting sleep. I know it is hard to sit attentively when the choir sings a soft and soothing anthem, when you are invited to close your eyes in silent prayer, when the preacher drones on and on about who knows what barely comprehensible theological drivel. I know, don’t worry.
And not only that but you’re in good company. Falling asleep when worship is called for is a repeated biblical theme. There’s Jacob dozing on a heavenly landing strip. The prophets shouting at people to wake up and see what is going on around them. Proverbs says that too much sleeping leads to poverty. And the Psalmist even asks God to wake up and get to work rescuing us! There’s that kid who dozed off during one of Paul’s sermons and fell out a window and died. Thankfully, Paul got to a benediction in time to raise him up again. In a few weeks we’ll make our journey with Jesus through some of the most significant moments of his earthly life and find guards dozing at a tomb and his closest followers unable to keep their eyes open.
Then there’s this, the quintessential mountain top experience. And in the midst of it, a nap attack.
Luke 9:28-36 Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. 29 And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. 30 Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. 31 They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. 32 Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. 33 Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah"-- not knowing what he said. 34 While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. 35 Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" 36 When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.
They fought it off. Maybe that’s the message here. They fought off the sleep enough to see what they were supposed to see. Sort of. I think they saw. Then Peter mumbles something about booths, about dwelling places. And even Luke is embarrassed by it. “He didn’t know what he was saying.” Excuse him, folks, he just woke up. And we smirk at his lack of couth, even though we don’t have a clue what was wrong with what he said. Yeah, ok, it’s a little goofy. But we’ve been taught that hospitality is an important thing. So, he was doing the best he could, maybe we should cut him a little slack.
I mean who knows what’s going on here anyway. A fancy light show and a rumbling voice from the heavens, we should be glad he could string two words together in a sentence that is more than confused babbling. The Jesus they thought they knew was revealed to be more than even they suspected. You can’t expect eloquence in a moment like that. Can you?
Well, no, of course not. Would we have done any better? In the face of such glory, in the presence of the only Son of God, with the Voice of God directing our attention in the background, with the history of the people of God standing in support, on the mountain of the Lord - would we have a hope of making any sense whatsoever, of signaling our presence without putting our foot in our mouth, of basking in the glory without falling on our faces in shame?
Well, last I looked out, folks seemed to be doing just fine. A little bored, here and there, some sleepy ones, plenty of clock watchers, a few crowd gazers, and one or two that seemed to be wrapped up in the glory revealed in that moment. One or two. And even more who were hoping and wanting and leaning toward it, but not quite sure what they were looking for. The disappointment - in the worship, in themselves, in something they couldn’t quite name - was palpable.
Hang on a minute, I hear you thinking, are you trying to imply that our weekly hour in the sanctuary at our local church is even a little bit equivalent to that wondrous moment on a mountain we call the Transfiguration? I mean that was a singular experience, so powerful that they didn’t even know how to talk about it when they came back down the mountain. I mean, Matthew and Mark report that Jesus told them to keep it a secret, Luke says they just didn’t talk about it. Like it was too personal. Too powerful. Too ... too ... indescribable to describe.
Surely you don’t mean to imply that worship week by week is like that. What a ludicrous idea, I mean, come on! Who would claim such a thing? That what we do week by week is somehow done in the presence of the glory of the Son? I wouldn’t dream of making such a claim. But He did. “Wherever two or three are gathered in my Name, I am there.”
That was the embarrassment of Peter’s comment. He wasn’t prepared to worship in that moment. He wanted to contain it, to hold it, to preserve it. He was asking for a doggy bag, so that he could take it home and get to it later. The proper response to that moment was attentive presence. Pay attention, stay awake - one of Jesus favorite commands - watch and wait. Be present.
Worship. Bring your whole self. Set aside the agendas that you are trying to sort out for the rest of the day or week. Stop trying to compare the music to the concert you attended the night before. Quit expecting the preacher to entertain you like the comedians at the club. Instead, listen for a Spirit speaking the Word through the words, ride the winds of grace in the music that echoes to sounds of creation itself, enter into the prayers as if they were your words or better yet the groans and sighs that you don’t even have words for yet. Be present at God’s table. Wake up, there is glory all around, Christ is revealing His true self in those moments.
Shame on me if I ever present worship as something boring, something ordinary. Shame on you if you accept a less than dynamic experience, or come expecting nothing more than a momentary diversion on a Sunday morning. Shame on us all if we ask Jesus to tone it down so we can get our nap in. And praise God for meeting us in our worship, even when we forget to look.
I’m climbing a mountain to gaze at Christ this Sunday. Care to join me?
Shalom,
Derek
But don’t worry, I’m not going to out you. At least this time. I understand. We lead such active lives that sometimes the simple act of sitting down causes our eyes to drift closed despite our best efforts. Long distance driving can be filled with terror for many riding along with a driver fighting sleep. I know it is hard to sit attentively when the choir sings a soft and soothing anthem, when you are invited to close your eyes in silent prayer, when the preacher drones on and on about who knows what barely comprehensible theological drivel. I know, don’t worry.
And not only that but you’re in good company. Falling asleep when worship is called for is a repeated biblical theme. There’s Jacob dozing on a heavenly landing strip. The prophets shouting at people to wake up and see what is going on around them. Proverbs says that too much sleeping leads to poverty. And the Psalmist even asks God to wake up and get to work rescuing us! There’s that kid who dozed off during one of Paul’s sermons and fell out a window and died. Thankfully, Paul got to a benediction in time to raise him up again. In a few weeks we’ll make our journey with Jesus through some of the most significant moments of his earthly life and find guards dozing at a tomb and his closest followers unable to keep their eyes open.
Then there’s this, the quintessential mountain top experience. And in the midst of it, a nap attack.
Luke 9:28-36 Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. 29 And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. 30 Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. 31 They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. 32 Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. 33 Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah"-- not knowing what he said. 34 While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. 35 Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" 36 When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.
They fought it off. Maybe that’s the message here. They fought off the sleep enough to see what they were supposed to see. Sort of. I think they saw. Then Peter mumbles something about booths, about dwelling places. And even Luke is embarrassed by it. “He didn’t know what he was saying.” Excuse him, folks, he just woke up. And we smirk at his lack of couth, even though we don’t have a clue what was wrong with what he said. Yeah, ok, it’s a little goofy. But we’ve been taught that hospitality is an important thing. So, he was doing the best he could, maybe we should cut him a little slack.
I mean who knows what’s going on here anyway. A fancy light show and a rumbling voice from the heavens, we should be glad he could string two words together in a sentence that is more than confused babbling. The Jesus they thought they knew was revealed to be more than even they suspected. You can’t expect eloquence in a moment like that. Can you?
Well, no, of course not. Would we have done any better? In the face of such glory, in the presence of the only Son of God, with the Voice of God directing our attention in the background, with the history of the people of God standing in support, on the mountain of the Lord - would we have a hope of making any sense whatsoever, of signaling our presence without putting our foot in our mouth, of basking in the glory without falling on our faces in shame?
Well, last I looked out, folks seemed to be doing just fine. A little bored, here and there, some sleepy ones, plenty of clock watchers, a few crowd gazers, and one or two that seemed to be wrapped up in the glory revealed in that moment. One or two. And even more who were hoping and wanting and leaning toward it, but not quite sure what they were looking for. The disappointment - in the worship, in themselves, in something they couldn’t quite name - was palpable.
Hang on a minute, I hear you thinking, are you trying to imply that our weekly hour in the sanctuary at our local church is even a little bit equivalent to that wondrous moment on a mountain we call the Transfiguration? I mean that was a singular experience, so powerful that they didn’t even know how to talk about it when they came back down the mountain. I mean, Matthew and Mark report that Jesus told them to keep it a secret, Luke says they just didn’t talk about it. Like it was too personal. Too powerful. Too ... too ... indescribable to describe.
Surely you don’t mean to imply that worship week by week is like that. What a ludicrous idea, I mean, come on! Who would claim such a thing? That what we do week by week is somehow done in the presence of the glory of the Son? I wouldn’t dream of making such a claim. But He did. “Wherever two or three are gathered in my Name, I am there.”
That was the embarrassment of Peter’s comment. He wasn’t prepared to worship in that moment. He wanted to contain it, to hold it, to preserve it. He was asking for a doggy bag, so that he could take it home and get to it later. The proper response to that moment was attentive presence. Pay attention, stay awake - one of Jesus favorite commands - watch and wait. Be present.
Worship. Bring your whole self. Set aside the agendas that you are trying to sort out for the rest of the day or week. Stop trying to compare the music to the concert you attended the night before. Quit expecting the preacher to entertain you like the comedians at the club. Instead, listen for a Spirit speaking the Word through the words, ride the winds of grace in the music that echoes to sounds of creation itself, enter into the prayers as if they were your words or better yet the groans and sighs that you don’t even have words for yet. Be present at God’s table. Wake up, there is glory all around, Christ is revealing His true self in those moments.
Shame on me if I ever present worship as something boring, something ordinary. Shame on you if you accept a less than dynamic experience, or come expecting nothing more than a momentary diversion on a Sunday morning. Shame on us all if we ask Jesus to tone it down so we can get our nap in. And praise God for meeting us in our worship, even when we forget to look.
I’m climbing a mountain to gaze at Christ this Sunday. Care to join me?
Shalom,
Derek
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