by Michael Phillips
Ex.
34:29-35; Luke
When the pace
of ministry gets too hectic for Jesus, he withdraws. He removes himself from the crushing weight
of ministry and the press of the crowds who constantly demand he pour himself
out. He goes to a mountain, taking an
intimate group of his disciples.
Apparently, they too are wearied by the ordeal of ministering to the
people, as we are told by the text that they are sleepy. Yet, something happens here that draws them
out of slumber. Something happens that
captures their attention. Jesus is
transfigured – Jesus becomes a flame of fire.
Two others are present with him – Moses, and Elijah. Peter, once the parlay concludes, responds in
the way that too many human beings respond to such transfiguring moments. He says, “We have to do something.”
The trouble in
our text is that the inclination to “do something” is human response to
something that hasn’t been rightly understood.
The disciples, and Peter, haven’t yet soaked in what just happened, and
already they’re convinced they should act within the moment to “do
something.” Human effort, in response to
a transfiguring moment, is often like that.
Elijah, in the cave, seeing God pass by, has learned that lesson – he
hears a great wind, he sees a great conflagration of flames, he feels an
earthquake, but God is not in any of them.
God just says, “Listen.”
Price
Pritchett is sitting in a quiet room at the Milcroft
Inn, a peaceful little place hidden back among the pine trees about an hour out
of
There’s a
small fly burning out the last of its short life energies in a futile attempt
to fly through the glass of a window pane.
The whining wings tell the poignant story of the fly’s strategy: Try
Harder.
But it’s not
working.
The frenzied
effort offers no hope for survival.
Ironically, the struggle is part of the trap. It’s impossible for the fly to try hard
enough to succeed at breaking through the glass. Nevertheless, this little insect has staked
its life on reaching it goal through raw effort and determination.
This fly is
doomed. It will die there on the
windowsill.
Across the
room, ten steps away, the door is open.
Ten seconds of flying time and this small creature could reach the
outside world it seeks. With only a
fraction of the effort now being wasted, it could be free of this self-imposed
trap. The breakthrough possibility is
there. It would be easy.
Why doesn’t
the fly try another approach, something dramatically different? How did it get so locked in on the idea that
this particular route and determined effort offer the most promise for success?
No doubt, this
approach makes sense to the fly. Regrettably,
it’s an idea that will kill. What sense
does it make to seek the change it wants by constantly doing more of the same
things that haven’t born fruit in the past?
Trying harder isn’t necessarily the
solution to achieving more. It may not
offer any real promise for getting what you want out of life. Sometimes, in fact, it’s a big part of the
problem.
If you stake
your hopes for a breakthrough on trying harder than ever, you may kill your
chances for success.[1]
Thankfully,
Jesus isn’t impressed by the disciples’ desire to “do something.” He already knows that the answer lies in
people loving and caring for one another, in forgiving and nurturing one
another. This is the only witness, the
only testimony, the only work that he expects of those who follow him. It is the only work that makes the positive
difference he is trying to instill in the hearts of humanity to bring forth the
Realm of God. Apart from this work,
every other human approach is doomed to failure. The Realm of God, apart from this, has no
witness, and every other effort is mere emptiness and vanity – the works of
chaos, and not of Christ.
Thankfully,
God weighs in at this critical juncture, and says just one thing – the one
thing that matters: “This is my beloved
son, listen to him.”