Most of us are familiar with Palm Sunday. We’re all familiar with Easter Sunday. Today, however, is a day you might be less familiar with: Transfiguration Sunday. What’s that you say? You’ve never heard of Transfiguration Sunday? Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Transfiguration Sunday is traditionally celebrated the Sunday before the season of Lent which kicks off this week with Ash Wednesday. The Transfiguration of Jesus on one end of Lent creates a bookend to the other end: the Easter resurrection! When understood this way, the Transfiguration serves as a foretaste of the glory of resurrection, and both the transfiguration and the resurrection remind us of the glory and transformation of our own souls that are in process and yet to be realized.

In today’s passage, Paul accuses the Corinthian church of acting “merely human,” which is to say that they are acting as if the Spirit of God does not dwell in them. This is no small accusation. Our faith invites us into a new way of being human. Not that we are no longer human, but that our humanity is met with the power of the Holy Spirit empowering us to be more like Christ. If Paul were a guest preacher this morning, would he speak to you as he spoke to the Corinthians? Or is the Spirit transforming you day-by-day?

In the opening chapter of John we learn quite a lot about Jesus. He is the Word which is from the beginning. He is God incarnate. He is the light of the world. He is the only begotten. He is Lord. He is the Lamb of God. He is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit. He is the Son of God. He is Rabbi, Messiah, the one of whom Moses and the prophets spoke, and the King of Israel. And while each of these carries profound implications, it is the final line of the chapter that prompts today’s message. Here Jesus says that the disciples will see “the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.” The meaning of this statement and its implication on our own lives is nothing less than transformational. Let’s dig in!

In today’s reading, Jesus asks one of life’s great questions: What are you seeking? The answer, both in the gospel and in life, can be hard to pin down. But the question needs to be asked because you’re only going to find something if you’re seeking it out. The disciples teach us that they are seeking the presence of Jesus; staying or abiding with him. They name him Rabbi or teacher, and through his presence and teaching they come to understand he is the messiah. What are you seeking?

The Bible is filled with good questions. It’s one of my favorite things about the Bible. It asks questions that penetrate the everydayness of life and force us to take a closer look at our lives. Today’s text asks one of those good questions. John the Baptist is at the Jordan River baptizing many when the priests and Levites go out to find out what is so special about this man. They ask him: “Who are you?” John’s response is telling, and it’s what we need to talk about today, but ultimately it’s not John’s answer you should be concerned with, it’s your own. Who are you? You, sitting in the pew reading these words. Who are you? How would you answer this question?

Frederick Buechner writes, “Until we have taken the idea of the God-man seriously enough to be scandalized by it, we have not taken it as seriously as it demands to be taken.” The incarnation—that is, the coming of God in the flesh—confronts us with a scandal that we too often fail to see. To put it simply, and perhaps crudely: God. Wore. Diapers. Let that sink in. The God who created all things and sustains all things entered into creation, became part of creation, and took on human flesh as a baby that was just as weak and needy as any baby you have ever held. If this is not a window into God that you have ever considered, let’s do so together today.

The word providence, simply put, means “God’s working in the world.” While the vast majority of Christians believe that God indeed works in the world, if you were to ask for everyday examples of God’s movement, you might be met with silence and a difficulty at naming such a thing. The problem isn’t that God is inactive, it’s that we often do not have the vision to see God’s action. We have failed to open our eyes to the movements of God in the world around us. Similarly, John the Baptist asks Jesus whether he is the “one to come” or if he should keep looking. Jesus’ response is essentially: open your eyes! Look at what God is doing right in front of you! Let us today open our eyes and see what God is doing right in front of us.

The town of Bethlehem was a one-stop-light kind of town where not much happened. Where the sheep grazed upon its hillsides, and the shepherds dreamt of the city life in nearby Jerusalem. From atop Bethlehem's tall, rolling hills, one could see Jerusalem, the city of kings, rising in the distance. And yet, despite the litany of kings that were born within the walls of Jerusalem—king after king after king—it is Bethlehem that hosted the two most notable figures of history. Upon entering the city, you might find a well-worn sign that reads: “Birthplace of King David.” And just below it, “Birthplace of Christ the King.” O little town of Bethlehem, your significance in the course of human history is not lost on us.

History is the long story of a quest for the knowledge of the invisible God. God self-reveals in a variety of ways, especially through scripture and nature. But there is no clearer revelation than the person of Jesus. As Immanuel, “God with us,” Jesus is the “image of the invisible God” (Colossians 1:15). Jesus is God in the flesh. Jesus is God revealed in His fulness. But Jesus is not the only one said to carry God’s image. According to Genesis 1, all humanity was created in God’s image. And though this image has been misshapen by sin and death, when we see each other rightly, we see the very image of God staring at us. 

The opening line of the Bible, “In the beginning, God created,” is echoed as a future promise in Isaiah 65:17: “For I am about to create.” In both cases, God is a creative type—an artist—who makes something genuinely new out of something that never before existed. Borne out of God’s abundant power and creativity is the world that was Eden, the world that is in the here and now, and the world that is yet to come. To say that God is an artist is to say too little. But to deny that God is an artist is to misunderstand a distinct part of God’s nature. Out of God’s artistic flare springs new realities that you and I could never begin to imagine. In our darkest days, we should never underestimate the potential for hope expressed in the opening words of Isaiah 65:17: “For I am about to create . . .”

In Haggai 2, our passage for today, the prophet is speaking to a group who has spent much of their lives in exile in Babylon only to return to a Jerusalem that is in tatters. Their houses are torn down. The temple is a heap of rubble. And they must begin the rebuilding process. One can only imagine the difficulty of such an endeavor. Surely it is a mixture of joy and anguish. Joy at their return, and anguish at the loss of what once was. What must be going through their minds? What will it take to pick up the pieces of an old life and create something new. In the midst of this God says, “Fear not”, for he has all the world’s resources at his disposal. Peace will reign again, but first we must rebuild.

In Jesus’ parable from Luke 18, we are introduced to two figures, and it appears that we must choose the better option. But neither is really a role model. The Pharisee seems to be; he fasts, tithes regularly, prays and goes to the house of God. But he shows contempt for others. The tax collector seems not to be because of his despised profession, and he praised for his repentance and humility. So what are we to do when Jesus puts two morally deficient examples before us and says: choose.

Over the last few weeks, the stage has been set for one of the most important passages in all of Jeremiah, possibly even all of the OT. (Sorry, it’s not Jeremiah 29:11!) To those living in the time of Jeremiah, it appeared that Israel’s history was coming to a close as Babylonian forces began to destroy the holy land and force its people into exile. Countless other cultures and religions had come and gone with a similar fate. Would Israel be any different? Would God abandon Israel to the dustbin of history? With Israel’s fate hanging in the balance, the prophet Jeremiah steps up to the microphone to speak on behalf of God.

Jeremiah 29 is best known for its eleventh verse: “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” This is an inspiring verse that needs a little context. So today we read from the passage leading up to it. Israel is being led into exile in Babylon where Jeremiah tells them they will spend 70 years. While they are waiting on the “future” and “hope” promised, God offers advice: build homes and gardens, keep marrying, seek to enjoy life, seek peace with those who have captured you and pray for them. And in the midst of it all, keep hope because “I have plans for you.”

The book of Habakkuk begins with the prophet addressing God directly, “How long?” How long must he cry for help before God answers? How long must the violence go on before God does something? Before God saves? You can sense frustration in the prophet, as if God weren’t acting fast enough. It’s an honest moment that some readers might find odd, odd that our Scriptures contain such challenges to God. Others might find it comforting. While still others might be unsettled by it. Wherever you fall probably says more about you than the Bible or God, because it’s clear from the whole of Scripture that God is not afraid of our questions. He often invites them. And He typically answers them, even if the answer is not what we expect.

Jeremiah writes as one who has seen the worst tragedy one could possibly imagine. For you such a tragedy might be the death of a loved one, the loss of a job, or ... what? What is your tragedy? For Jeremiah it was the Babylonian army tearing down the temple of Jerusalem, demolishing the walls of the city, and leaving the "city of God" in rubble. But in the midst of such darkness a light shone through. The voice of God came to Jeremiah and told him to purchase a piece of property. God promised that a day would come when the darkness would fade and noonday would shine again. And Jeremiah, standing on God's promise, trusted that God's word would not return void.