Sermon for Transfiguration Sunday

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran on Feb 7, 2016
Scripture text: Luke 9:28-43

A few weeks ago, I began my sermon by cracking an old joke about change in the church. And yet, here we are again, on the day of Transfiguration, a day that is about change, a day that is about transformation, about transition from one thing to another. And so here I am again about to talk about that most dreaded of words in the church.

Truth is, though, I get it. I understand fully why people are so resistant to change. I understand why they want things to stay the same. I got a treat this week online; someone posted an old video that they had filmed at Kastu-con Ichi, one of the anime cons I used to staff back in the 1990s. It was neat seeing the people, and their anime swag of series that I love still, a few familiar faces, the venue in Virginia Beach that was so good to (and for) us for so many years. And then I looked at the date of when the video was filmed: 1995. Twenty-one years ago! What the....?

That was yesterday. Or at least, it feels like it. What happened? That part of my life is long gone, but it doesn’t feel that way. I kept hoping I would see me in the background of the footage and never did, but what would I have seen if I had? The 6’ tall 140 lbs nerd that I was then. No beard. Bad clothes. Maybe I did see myself and just didn’t recognize me. I haven’t been that person in a long time.

The changes in our lives and in our society just seem to happen so fast. We’re so full of anxiety right now and we often latch onto anger and frustration at what we’ve lost and we seem to be about to lose. We lash out at things that seem to symbolize, for better or worse, those losses. I get that there are a lot of people who disagree on specific policy issues with our president, but there is a whole lot of rage at the man simply because he looks different than all the others who’ve held that office. Obama’s come to mean something well beyond who he is as a person or even a politician. He’s a sign that things aren’t the way they used to be. If Hillary wins or Bernie or even Rubio, it’ll be much the same. A woman, a Jew, or a Latino. None of them are like the ones before either. Everything’s changed. That’s America now. And not everyone’s happy about that.

And then here, we struggle with change. It’s happening whether we like it or not. Empty pews. Empty offering plates. People who used to be here who aren’t here anymore. The prognosticators have spoken. The vast majority of congregations in this country have less than ten years of life left in them. Some 80% of Christian congregations will close by 2025. Eighty percent!

You want fear of change? My career won’t exist in a few years. I’ll be out of a job. I’ll be out of a life. Everything I’ve worked for. Everything I see myself as. Ten years. As that convention video reminded me, that’s not a very long time.

The world leaves us all behind. And that’s terrifying.

And yet, I watch Emily grow up and I see the person she’s becoming. Her interests, her opinions, her thoughts and feelings. I laugh when I hear Japanese phrases come out of her: sempai, kawaii, etc. She’s not an anime fan per se as I was, but fans like me paved the way for a lot of today’s youth culture. She’s an amazing human being and I’m constantly stunned at how much like me she is. How did that happen?

In politics, we’re probably overdue for a sea change. Something radical. Something different. Most of us agree things have been broken for a long time and doing nothing or fixing things incrementally isn’t really working. This election’s going to be big. It may be a miracle. It may be a disaster, but it will not be boring.

And in the church, you know maybe it’s not such a bad thing we’re in for such an institutional change. We’re not really supposed to be about buildings and social clubs anyway. We’re about the Gospel and that happens out there.

Change brings with it excitement. Yeah, things aren’t the same as they once were. Life would be dull if they were. I’m not sure I could handle Emily as a perpetual toddler (or a perpetual preteen for that matter.) Our political system is designed with a changing of the guard in mind. And our church was never meant to be stagnant but ever in motion.

Fear and excitement. They often go hand in hand. And the story of the Transfiguration reflects that. The disciples practically wet themselves when God starts talking to them and it’s hard to blame them. But, think about it, God is TALKING to them. They’re having an audience with the Divine. How awesome is that?

So awesome that they try to do what we humans always do: they try to freeze time. Peter’s efforts to memorialize that moment, to enshrine this event, are rather transparent. But he can’t stop the clock from turning any more than we can. Life keeps going, even when we don’t want it to. The future is coming, regardless of whether it brings fear, excitement, or both.

And yet when the moment passes, Jesus remains. Perhaps that is the best lesson we can take from this day. Much changes in our lives, but Jesus remains. Our nation undergoes its upheavals, political, economic, social, you name it, and yet Jesus remains. The institutional church dies, giving birth to whatever it will become for the next generations, and yet Jesus remains. Our families, our very lives, transform from day to day, and yet Jesus remains.

Life, death, and all that goes with it, and yet Jesus remains. It’s been the one constant in our ever changing world. God is still there. God is still at work. No matter what happens to us, for good or ill, he remains steadfast. It’s not always easy to live through chaotic or anxious times like these, but faith calls us to hold fast to what matters. Not buildings or institutions or nations or political parties or ideologies or anything else that shifts and changes with the tides. We hold fast to that which lasts forever: God and his promises. As song I once liked said, “I may not know what the future holds, but I know who holds the future.” Amen.