The other day for bedtime, I grabbed the Veggie Tales Bible from the shelf to read a story to Mia before bed. We hadn’t read this before, and so I looked at the table of contents for a story. I saw the story of Esther and was excited for that because it normally isn’t in a children’s Bible. And so I told her, “Want to hear a story about a queen who saves her people?” “Oh, yeah,” she said. And so we began to read the story.
About a third of the way in, we get to the part where the evil Haman reveals his plot. The story read: “The king banished Mordecai’s entire family to…the island of Perpetual Tickling!” “Island of Perpetual Tickling,” I repeated to myself. “That’s not part of the story!” After reading that part, I knew we needed to do a different one for the following night (I could not…). And so, we read a different one, and a line I read from it really spoke to me. In the introduction, it read, “Now, some people think the Bible is a book of rules…but the Bible isn’t mainly about you and what you should be doing. It’s about God and what He has done. Other people think the Bible is a book of heroes, showing you people you should copy. The Bible does have some heroes in it, but (as you’ll soon find out) most of the people in the Bible aren’t heroes at all. They make some big mistakes (sometimes on purpose). They get afraid and run away. At times, they are downright mean.” I thought this introduction perfectly described the guests and spectators of the Transfiguration.
Matthew tells us that Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up on a high mountain by themselves. As He takes them up, He begins to reveal His glory. His face shines like the sun, and His clothes become white as light. As He speaks, two guests appear, and the first we notice is Moses.
Moses had messed up big time. One of the cruel things about life is that a simple mistake can have lasting consequences. A simple mistake can ruin a lifetime of hard work, and it can tarnish one’s legacy. You can be associated with that mistake despite a life of good accomplishments and deeds. Moses learned that the hard way.
In Numbers 20, we find Moses near the finish line. This is year 40 of being in the desert. The end is in sight. He only has a little farther to go. He has been with the people in the desert for 40 years now, and a new generation of people are before him. The old generation finally passed away. Poor Moses has dealt with 40 years of complaining, groaning, traveling, wandering, extreme heat, extreme cold, stubbornness, faithlessness, and perhaps, worst of all, 40 years of, “Are we there, yet?”
And unfortunately for Moses, this new generation is just like their parents. They are thirsty, and they fight with Moses. They wish they would have died in the desert. They wish to be back in Egypt, where they claimed to have food they never had as slaves. They forget the evils and horrors of their slavery! They think being with God is worse. Moses has a dilemma on his hands, and so he goes to the tent of meeting. There, God tells him to strike the rock so that the people can have water to drink.
Moses then gathers the people and says, “Hear now, you rebels: shall we bring water for you out of this rock?” That doesn’t sound good. Moses sounds a little angry and unhinged, as if 40 years of frustration finally caught up to him. And so he strikes the rock once, and then a second time to prove his point. But it was one too many. Moses disrespected God in the process, and the Lord tells him: “You shall not bring this assembly into the land that I have given them.” It seems terribly unfair. The end was in sight – this was year 40 of the desert wandering! Moses’ life takes a detour in the worst way. Deuteronomy 34 ends with Moses sitting on Mt. Nebo, sitting on the outside looking in. What a tragedy.
Has life ever done that you? Has life ever taken you on an unexpected detour? Sometimes, it happens with us behind the wheel. Maybe a word spoken in anger destroyed a precious relationship, or a joke went too far that cannot be taken back. These instances are followed by, “I didn’t mean to,” “I don’t really think that,” “Let me explain….” Perhaps a destructive habit spins out of control. One more drink becomes another, and another. Or spending a little too much money just keeps happening. We might have that one moment where we have a lapse of judgment, or a lack of self-control that we normally wouldn’t, but at that point, the damage is already done, and we face the consequences of our actions like Moses. And like him, we bear that sin and shame, and we sit on the outside looking in.
Other times, we are forced on the detour. The call from the doctor saying you have cancer suddenly changes your plans. The death of a loved one tragically ends the future you had dreamed of. A missed opportunity has you wondering when the next off-ramp will arise, if ever. You wish you might have gotten off sooner. Detours come more common than we would ever like. But, Moses’ life does get back on track. He doesn’t stay on Mt. Nebo forever. He joins Jesus in the Promised Land on the Mount of Transfiguration! Jesus gets Moses there.
After Moses, the second guest we are introduced to is Elijah. Elijah felt like a failure, and that his life’s work was in vain. In 1 Kings 19, Elijah finds himself on the run from the evil Queen Jezebel. Elijah had just killed 450 of her prophets, and she gets word of that from Ahab. Jezebel swears that Elijah will be dead by sundown. And what does the mighty man of God do? He runs! He flees like a coward. He leaves the country and heads into the desert.
There, he has a pity party. He asks the Lord if he could die, and die in the desert like his ancestors did. He becomes ashamed he ran away. And so, God feeds and strengthens His wayward prophet, but Elijah is still down in the dumps. Elijah ends up holing himself in a cave, and he won’t come out. The pity party continues, and he complains that everyone has left the Lord. He says, “I’m the only one left, and my life work is in vain. The miracles were pointless. The preaching was a waste of time. I’m a joke.” Even after seeing the Lord from the cave, Elijah still echoes the same complaint: “What’s the use?” Haven’t we been there?
We’ve all said, “What’s the use?” Things don’t seem to be changing, or getting better. Maybe they are getting worse, and that is disappointing, and depressing. Perhaps our finances are not improving, or our health is not getting better. That relationship isn’t improving. That certain sin still seems to have mastery over me. The Holy Spirit doesn’t seem to be working on that person, or in me, or on me. We’ve all sat in a cave and groaned, “What’s the use?”
We’ve groaned, too, “It’s all in vain.” Day after day can seem the same. The world seems no better with me in it, and no worse. Our difference in the world can seem miniscule. Maybe you have packed that lunch for a child 500 times, now, or folded that shirt for the last 20 years. Maybe you have mowed that yard twice a month for the last 23 summers, or that meal you cooked was the 2,105th one you have made for your family. We can toil and labor in obscurity. There will be no news article about us when we die.
But, fortunately, that is not the end. It wasn’t for Elijah. God lifts him out of the dumps, and he serves again, refreshed, restored, rejuvenated. But, like Moses, Elijah, too, finds himself outside of the Promised Land. In 2 Kings 2, we find the prophet heading east, away from the Promised Land, as he crosses the Jordan River. It is there that Elijah is taken up into heaven. And like Moses, Elijah finds himself in the Promised Land with Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration. Jesus gets the depressed and down Elijah there; He brings him back.
Now we move to the spectators of the event: the disciples, and we focus on Peter, the representative of them all. Peter is a person who means well, but struggles to put it all together. He acts rashly when reason says to “wait.” When courage is called for, his boldness is lacking. When the bases are loaded and the game is on the line, he strikes out spectacularly, and hits a triple play. He is silent when he should speak, and he speaks when he should be quiet. That is what Mark and Luke say in their accounts: “Peter said to Jesus, ‘Master, it is good that we are here. Let us make three tents, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah – not knowing what he said.” He is a person who wants to follow Jesus so badly, but he struggles. Isn’t that us, too?
Our love is imperfect and lacking. Our devotion often looks like a rollercoaster: it goes up and down and winds all over. When we have opportunities to share Jesus, they can be missed, bumbled, or found lacking. We want to live for Jesus, but we can struggle. I think last week’s text highlights that. It isn’t enough not just to kill our neighbor; we can’t even hate or talk bad about them. It isn’t enough to keep the marriage bed pure, any lustful thought is considered adultery. We still have that sinful flesh that pulls us in the opposite direction and encourages us to do what we don’t want to do. Paul puts it this way: “For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing.”
But, Jesus will work with that. After Peter denies Jesus and leaves Him for dead, the Lord appears to him, and reinstates him for service. Jesus says, “Peter, you will one day join me in the Promised Land.” Jesus will get Peter there.
And He’ll get you there, too. Detours will have their way and time, but Jesus will accompany us. He will be with us as we sit on the outside looking in. Disappointment and depression will have its day, but Jesus will encourage and lift us up. You won’t be in the pit forever. Shame will come, and will take a seat next to us, but the forgiveness of Jesus will stay. We will be with them, too, in the Promised Land. For Jesus didn’t stay on the Mount of Transfiguration. He went to Mount Calvary, too. There, He paid for our mistakes and moral failures. He died for the destruction that we have caused, and for the destruction we have endured. He bore our sorrows and frustrations. He paid for our feeble attempts at following Him. Jesus will get you home; He will get you to the Promised Land. That is what Lent is all about! And so we can say with conviction these five words: “Jesus will get me there.” And what is our confidence for that? These five words proclaimed on Easter: “I know my Redeemer lives!”