Dazzled

For me as a school child, Valentine’s Day was all about the boxes.  I loved the process of decorating a shoe box or old shipping box with construction paper and hearts.  I loved putting my own design on it.  I loved the process of taking it to school.  Making my own box to receive all those little paper valentines was a creative joy.  And it sure was better than the other part of Valentine’s Day.  

I hated deciding what valentine to give to what classmate.  Even at a young age, the subtext of these out of the box cards was complex.  If I gave a card that was too sappy, too mushy to the wrong classmate, would they receive the wrong message and assume that I like liked them?  And what about that person I actually was crushing on--would they receive the message I was conveying from that extra little sticker tacked on, or the selection of the card with my favorite character?  What was the difference between a card that was about friendship and a card that might express something more?

That part of Valentine’s Day was always a bit much for me.  

I suspect Peter would enjoy decorating the boxes more than the social nuances of handing out the cards, too.  Maybe this is me projecting onto Peter, in fact, I know it is.  But I always have such an affinity for the stories of Peter we hear in the gospels.  He tries so hard.  And he wants so badly to make the experience he’s having of Jesus make sense.  He’s the guy who tries to put Jesus in a box, into a way of looking at the world that makes sense. 

Peter is the guy who in the Gospel of Matthew who tries to keep Jesus in the box of, oh staying alive and not predicting his own death, and Jesus responds with that infamous line, “Get behind me Satan!”  Peter is also the one who has a little bit of trouble with the out of the box experience of walking on water.  

Peter seems to have more trouble when things go off script, when there are no clear answers, when the world gets a little fuzzy on the edges.  Who can blame him?  How can we not empathize with this man who always seems to be just a bit startled at who Jesus actually is?

This story of the transfiguration of Christ is, of course, yet another key example.  This mystical experience, this moment where the heroes of faith appear, this dazzling, light-filled glorious moment--and Peter asks about tents.  As would anyone who would like to put a box around the unexplainable, to put boundaries around the messy and uncharted, and tents down to contain an experience that will so quickly drift away.  

Jesus, on the other hand, I am certain would be very good at sending Valentines.  He never seemed to be embarrassed by extravagant declarations of love.  Jesus is an out of the box thinker.  He is surprising and challenging and even today, after how many centuries of us Christians trying to study and understand him, we still can be knocked off balance by his dazzling presence.

Jesus is the one I am simultaneously petrified and excited to follow. 

This story of the transfiguration is beautiful and dazzling, but it also marks an important transitional moment in the ministry of Jesus.  He has been building up his ministry so far, gathering disciples and teaching and healing.  He has journeyed up the mountaintop.  But now he’s got to go back down.  And it’s not a journey into further glory--at least not yet.  It’s into confusion, into upended expectations, and a story that leads right to the cross.  If Peter found the transfiguration confusing, he is certainly not prepared for what comes next.  

There’s not a box or tent that could contain what was going to happen next.

It’s a disorienting experience to encounter this Jesus.  As Christians who get to hear the story of the resurrection alongside the crucifixion, we can get comfortable in the happy ending without fully experiencing the world upending chaos it took to get there.  Knowing the whole story provides its own kind of comfort.  It’s a cozy box.  

We often carry the legacy of Peter more than we do Jesus.  We are drawn to structures and stability.  Just look at the established church in America right now.  Without knowing the content, you can almost always expect a church to follow a formula of a building, a pastor, a secretary.  Toss in a custodian and Christian Education Director and you’ve got a church.  It can be a comforting system, but one that can box us in with bricks, tradition, and the expectation that this is the only place to find Jesus.  

Maybe we should’ve listened to Peter after all and set up some tents.  They’d probably be a little more movable.

What does it mean to stand at the top of the mountaintop with Jesus and imagine what’s coming next?  How do we take a deep breath and get ready to race after the epitome of love unbound, the Jesus who defies expectations even now?

This day of transfiguration and love, I hope you can find the courage to love freely.  I pray for love that doesn’t fit in boxes.  If you hear yourself sounding like Peter, know you are not alone.  And know that Peter’s story doesn’t end here.  His courage and imagination took some coaxing, but he never stopped learning and following Jesus.  Let us do the same.