Transfiguration (2/3/08) “Change Is Life”

Matthew 17.1-9

Some years ago an educator at Kent State University asked her sophomore students what they thought about change. What were the first thoughts or images that came to mind when they heard the word? She asked them to jot down their immediate reactions, and then collected the responses. She unfolded one paper after another, and the word she saw most gave her quite a shock: some 75% of her students, when they heard the word “change,” thought of death.

But perhaps that isn’t quite so surprising when you consider what we human beings are like. We don’t like change. Oh, all of us do change from time to time, in many different ways. But significant change is not easy. Whether it means quitting smoking, improving your health habits, or disciplining your spiritual life, change is hard to do—because change is a kind of death: the death of what you have been.

Yet change is also life. From a biological point of view, change is what really defines life—something that is living is something that is changing. When change stops, life is over. From the point of view of the gospel, change is also essential. One of the most basic Christian words, a word Jesus often used in his preaching, is “repent.” Some years ago J. B. Phillips translated that Greek word as “change your heart and mind.” We hear St. Paul talking about not being conformed to the world, but being transformed. We read throughout Scripture about people called to grow in their faith, to change; indeed, St. Paul says that we who are in Christ are being changed. So change, as difficult as it may be, is in fact what we are made for: Life is about change.

Our gospel lesson this morning is the story of the Transfiguration. It is a wonderful and mysterious account, and it has many different dimensions; but surely one aspect of this story is a ringing affirmation of how important change is in the Christian life. Matthew says that Jesus was “transfigured.” That’s a hard word, one we don’t normally use in any context other than this particular story. But the word itself means “changed.” As the disciples watch, Jesus the man is changed in appearance so that he becomes like God to them. He appears to the disciples much like the Lord appeared to Moses on Sinai, much like Elijah appeared to Elisha when he was carried into heaven. And Moses and Elijah are here on this mountain, too, making that connection even more clearly.

The story means many things, but one of them is that such a transfiguration, such a change, is happening to us as we live in Christ. The disciples on this mountain are granted not just a glimpse of who Christ is, but also a glimpse of what they are becoming as they grow into his likeness. In the epistle this morning, Peter refers back to that mountaintop experience and says it is like a lamp shining in a dark place—shining, we might say, to remind Peter (and all of us) of just what we are called to be. We are called to be like Christ—and if we are to get there, we will have to change.

What are the changes that have to be made in us? One almost hesitates to start listing them, because there are so many. They are the things we will be hearing about in our midweek Lenten series on the Sermon on the Mount beginning this week. We will have to stop thinking “eye for eye, tooth for tooth,” and start thinking “love your enemies.” We will have to stop nursing our grudges and start forgiving freely. We will have to stop living for ourselves and begin living for others. Plenty of changes; enough for a lifetime.

But we have to admit that for most of us, every change we would like to make in our life is surrounded by a number of barriers. I want to suggest a few of them this morning—not the only ones, by any means, but perhaps suggestive of some of the ways that we resist the changes in us that Christ would like to work.

One barrier to change is simple inertia. We are too comfortable with the way things are, and it seems like too much work to make them different. Joe is quite a bit overweight. He knows that it is unhealthy. He knows that he has poor eating habits, and he knows he seldom exercises. He thinks a lot about how he really should deal with both these issues, how he should change his lifestyle. But he likes to eat, and he doesn’t like to exercise, and so he just goes on the way he is. He can’t seem to change.

Another barrier to change is our difficulty in setting priorities. Jesus told a parable about a man who was invited to a great feast, but who sent his reply: “I’ve just bought a cow, and have to tend to it. I cannot come.” That’s a classic way to resist change. Molly wishes she had time to spend a few minutes each day reading the Bible and praying. But she’s just too busy. She’s up at dawn, fixing breakfast for her family. Then there is housework, shopping, volunteer work. By nightfall she is exhausted. She wonders where people can find time to pray regularly! She just can’t find it in her life; and so she doesn’t change. The reality, of course, is that Molly, just like everyone else, has 24 hours each day. No one else has a single minute more than she does! The issue is about setting priorities for those 24 hours.

A third barrier to change is low self-esteem. Sally has been an abused wife for many years. He husband’s alcoholism is part of the problem. Sometimes when he has been drinking, he hits her. Her life is miserable; her friends keep urging her to leave this unbearable situation. But deep down inside, Sally thinks that she probably deserves what she gets. She doesn’t, of course, but she thinks so little of herself, she can’t imagine that change is possible for her. So she stays the way she is.

A fourth barrier to change is fear. Barry’s job is boring and unsatisfying to him. He dislikes the people he works with, and because of that he doesn’t work very hard. It is a vicious cycle; the worse he feels, the less he works, and the worse he feels about it. Sometimes he thinks of going back to finish college and pursue the career he really wanted in the first place. But he is afraid. He isn’t sure how successful he’d be, and he’s not sure how his family could survive while he went to school. He’s so afraid of the unknown that he just keeps doing what he’s been doing. He can’t seem to change.

Now all these examples are different, but they all point to the trouble we have when we face the prospect of change in our lives. Sometimes we finally change only because we are forced into it; perhaps Joe suffers a heart attack, Molly injures her back and is confined to bed for six months, Sally’s husband leaves her, or Barry is laid off. Whatever it is, often the only way we get around to changing is by being forced into it.

But there is another way, a better way. It gets back to what we said about the Transfiguration story being about change. When we are in Christ, we are already changing, being changed by him. Once we understand that, we can see that change is not something for which we have complete responsibility. There is someone available to help us, and that someone is Christ. To be sure, there are obstacles to change, barriers to change; but there is someone who can break down those barriers and help us through them—someone who is quite good at change! He changed water into wine at the wedding in Cana, but that was the least of his miracles. More impressive is what he did with people. He changed a cowardly braggart named Simon into a rock of faith called Peter. He changed Zaccheus, a crooked tax collector, into a man with a heart of overflowing generosity. He changed Mary Magdalene, a woman whose troubles and sins seemed endless, into a glowing picture of strength and devotion. Yes, he changed people from what they were and made them into what he wanted them to be.

And he will do so with us. When we come to his table and receive bread and wine, his body and blood, we are receiving him into ourselves. That cannot leave us unchanged. When I was a boy, we were always invited to the Lord’s Supper with words that welcomed those who “intend to lead a new life”—in other words, those who intend to change. Coming to this banquet, you see, means saying, “I am not yet who I want to be, but you, O Lord, have formed me and you can change me, re-form me. You are the potter, I am the clay.” Our Lord has promised to meet us here, to touch us here, to help us yet one more step on the way to health and salvation. He has promised to change us into his likeness.