Sometimes I have the most amazing dreams. I am not sure if it is that morsel of cheese that I might have sneaked in just before bedtime, or if they are divinely inspired. But I had such a dream at the end of last year and I kept thinking about it as I was preparing this sermon about Christ’s glorious transfiguration.
So I thought that I must share my dream, very briefly, with you.
I was walking along a crowded road and lot’s of people were rushing by a rather struggling me. Then a lovely young man came dashing up beside me and took my left arm saying I’ll help you Mary.
But where are we all going, I asked – to Heaven he replied. But where is it – just up here and around the corner he said, and then we were suddenly there.
What I saw was stunningly beautiful, just as most of us imagine heaven will be like I am sure, but it was the feeling that astonished me.
I felt as if all the cares and worries of the world just suddenly dropped from my shoulders, in a micro-second, and I had the most amazing feeling of joy and peace that I could ever imagine.
That was the most astonishing thing, how it felt, not so much what it looked like.
The three different gospel accounts of Christ’s transfiguration all speak of a very visual episode of dazzling, unearthly splendour accompanied by the voice of the Lord Almighty telling us to listen to what he has to tell us.
But no one mentions how Jesus might have felt when all this was happening. I mean how good is that to be told in front of Moses and Elijah, Peter, James, and John, that the Lord Almighty is so pleased with you that you must listen to what you have to say. As Jesus is standing there dazzling away – as a bridge between heaven and earth.
I suspect that in that moment as Jesus is saturated with God’s glory all his cares and worries washed away and he was filled with complete and utter peace and joy. I like to think that I might have got the slightest glimpse of what that might have felt like in my dream.
The lesson for us to take from this scripture is to carry this vision we are given, of Christ in all his glory, with us on every step of our Christian journey, because this is the hope that we too have in the perfection of our lives and beings in Heaven.
Yes, we are destined to be transfigured like Jesus, to be saturated with God’s glory. And it will indeed be ‘good for us to be there’, as St Peter blurts out, and not only good, but absolutely amazing I would say with all our worldly cares and worries dropped in an instant from our shoulders.
But will we remember this Gospel lesson as we approach our own Calvary?
As we are faced with the many trials and tribulations that undoubtedly await us still.
No, not because of this sermon, we won’t, or from a hundred similar sermons.
Because it is not just a matter of remembering it. It’s a matter of really bringing the dazzling vision into our everyday thoughts and feelings – bringing the vision right into our hearts.
We must let the vision of Christ’s transfiguration filter into the very fibres of our mind, body and souls.
Let it become a second nature to see everything that happens to us, every pain and dark sorrow, in the light of our sharing in God’s glory.
In the light of the promise of Easter and our eventual transfiguration
For this to happen we need a radical way of thinking. And I don’t mean just putting on a cheerful front, like Monty Python’s Always look on the bright side of life!
Positive thinking is always good of course, but it won’t see us through if it is not based on anything.
What we need is a passionate, deep-seated conviction, as hard as nails, that this human nature of ours, with all its pain and tragedy, is destined to be transfigured in the beauty of God’s glory.
And to live each day in the hope of that.
I don’t know about you, but I sometimes find it difficult to keep that vision in front of me when something happens that knocks me off course.
But I firmly believe that by working with prayer, reflection and our everyday routines we can acquire the habit of seeing everything from the view-point of our future (our eternal future).
And if we can do this, then our sufferings, our fears and tears, our failures, our horrible fragilities and sicknesses, all those awful things, will be transfigured as we stand in the shadow of the cross.
We heard from St Peter, as he described his presence at the Transfiguration. He urged his fellow Christians to keep their minds fixed on God’s promise.
He said; you will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place.
And so must we keep this vision we have of Christ’s transfiguration at the forefront of our faith, this great hope that we have of leaving all our cares and worries behind us, and keep these things as a lamp shining in a dark place.
Because, just as the experience of transfiguration fortified Christ for his gruelling death, so too it can fortify us when we face difficulties in our lives.
Very soon this morning we will be celebrating the Eucharist. The Eucharist is our momentary Transfiguration, our momentary foretaste of Easter.
And I pray that our Holy Communion this morning will unite us more closely with Jesus, our Lord and Saviour.
Who knows what it is like to be in a dark place; knows what it is like when we are, but just wants each one of us to be together with him where he is;
In the radiance of God’s glory.
