Speechless!

Maybe it’s because I grew up around mountains, but I like the perspective that comes from high places. You’ve noticed, haven’t you, that going up on a high mountain or some high place changes your perspective on the world? I know that’s a stretch for Kansans, but maybe you’ve traveled to a high place. Something interesting happens inside of us when we gain a larger perspective on our surroundings.

When we lived in Chicago I enjoyed going to the Sears Tower and taking their express elevator up to the 103rd floor, some 1,300 feet or more above the street. From the observation area you could get a whole different perspective on the “busy-ness” and “crowded-ness” and “pushy-ness” of the city. Looking down on the millions of ant-like people and cars scurrying around below gave me pause. Sometimes in the realities of life I can get so consumed with my own circumstances that I forget there are billions of people in this world, each with their own story, each with their own troubles—and God knows each one of them intimately. What a God! As I thought about that, I worshiped the Lord right there on the 103rd floor of the Sears Tower in Chicago. That’s the kind of thing mountaintop perspective will do for you.

It’s the kind of thing that happened to three frightened disciples during the mountaintop experience we just read about this morning. As far as the Bible is concerned, it’s really not a unique experience. In fact, the Scriptures speak regularly of mountains as places of revelation. Abraham, Moses, Elijah—many others could testify about meeting God on the mountain.

William Blake said, “Great things are done when man and mountains meet.” It’s true. I don’t understand all the reasons for that but I know it has to do with perspective.
This is an amazing story in Mark chapter 9. It comes at something of a watershed moment in Jesus’ ministry on earth. He’d been trying to help His disciples understand about the Cross and the concept of a suffering messiah but they weren’t doing too well. Jesus knew it was coming soon and these disciples were going to need something to hang onto if they were going to survive the terrible days ahead. They needed some perspective. So Jesus took His three closest disciples—Peter, James, and John—up a high mountain for this astounding experience.

All the usual symbols of God’s glory are present in this story: a high mountain, shining garments, revered patriarchs, a cloud, a voice from heaven. The veil is pulled back and we get a glimpse into the glory of Christ. Obviously words failed Mark in the description of what these disciples saw. In most of Mark’s Gospel Jesus is presented in His full humanity. He’s moving, acting, teaching, rebuking, healing, eating, drinking, praying, resting—things to which we can relate. But this was a great and mysterious moment. There’s really no explaining it. Something happened there that made all the categories crumble into insignificance. Most of the time these disciples didn’t really get the God-nature of Jesus. But here, in this amazing moment of grace, the heavens were opened and they saw Jesus as they’d never seen Him before. The best Mark could do in trying to describe it, is to talk about Jesus’ clothes becoming a dazzling white.

Suddenly they saw Moses and Elijah talking with Jesus. And they were terrified. Can you imagine? You know, sometimes in the Bible when things like this happen the observers fall down like dead men. Even these otherwise slow-witted disciples got the point. Their friend Jesus was indeed the Holy One of God. They saw all at once not only His closeness but also His “other-ness.”

And these disciples were paralyzed. Except for Peter’s tongue, that is. He always had something to say even when he shouldn’t be saying anything. In fact for the second time in just a few days, Peter was talking when he should have been listening. But let’s not be too hard on him, because he shows something we also tend to do. Peter’s response to this holy moment of revelation was to try and nail it down. He wanted to build tents. In other words, he wanted to fix this moment forever. He wanted to own it. He wanted to control it. He didn’t really know what to do. He was talking out of his fear. I love Mark’s commentary here. It’s like he’s embarrassed by Peter’s suggestion and has to explain it to us: “He did not know what to say, they were so frightened” (v. 6).

But that’s when God came to them in a beautifully gracious yet awesome way. A cloud enveloped them. They knew what that meant: it was the presence of God himself. And a voice came from the cloud. As they heard the voice that day, so we need to hear the voice from heaven saying, “This is my son, whom I love, listen to him!” It’s the only instruction given about how to handle a moment like this. Stop talking and just listen. In effect God said, “Peter, put down your tent pegs. Don’t do anything. Don’t talk, don’t plan, just listen.”

These disciples needed to see Jesus, I mean really see Him in all of His glory. But when you really see Jesus as He is there is no explaining Him. We cannot easily contain, explain, or define Him. The way really to see Jesus is not to analyze and understand. We must go speechless. We need to get quiet and listen.

You see, I think far too often we approach worship kind of like Peter went to that mountain. We have our little spiritual note pads, ready to take down our assignment for the week. We put it all up in the head. We think being a Christian is something to be understood and practiced and figured out. And certainly it is intellectual, but that’s not all it is. There are moments when worship needs to take us beyond our plans and projects. There are times when worship should take us beyond our ability to articulate and understand. We sometimes need to go to the mountaintop and see a new vision of God in His glory and majesty.

Can I say it just as plainly as I know how without unnecessarily offending you? Sometimes you just need to shut your mouth. Stop your constant chattering before God. Stop your incessant begging of God. Sometimes, you should stop your in-depth Bible study. Stop your reading. Stop your intellectual pursuit. Stop your feverish religious activity. Just stop and gaze upon the majesty, the “otherness” of God and listen to Him!
We aren’t very good listeners, mostly. Listening means you have to be quiet for once, and most of us resist silence with every fiber of our being. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard people say, “Oh I don’t really listen to that radio program (or like that music, or watch that TV program), I just have it on for the noise.” Why? What are you so afraid you’re going to hear? It’s in the quiet moments, it’s in these kinds of mountaintop moments when you stop and get speechless that you finally begin to see who Jesus really is.

Now there’s a lot of mystery here. It’s hard to explain. But if your life in Christ does not include some moments like this, then you are going to remain spiritually immature. There needs to be some time in your spiritual life when you are silenced and humbled and driven to your knees in the presence of a holy God. You see, it’s about perspective.
What I’m asking you consider this morning is simply this, “Is there any space at all in your life for this kind of thing to happen?” Now God is merciful and God is gracious. And so often He breaks in on us when we least expect it. So often these moments surprise us—and that’s wonderful. But there’s nothing wrong with, in fact there’s everything right with, carving out space in life to meet God like this.

Once in a while you’ll see a small child trying to get the attention of a parent. They’ll start tugging on the mom’s dress or the dad’s coat sleeve and calling their name, “Mom, Mom, Mom.” Sometimes we’re just so busy, so distracted, so preoccupied that we don’t hear the voices of our little people, until they do whatever it takes to get our attention. I wonder if that’s a reverse picture of how we are with God. We are like the busy parents and the Spirit of God is like the small child, tugging at our sleeves, saying, “Hey, I want to talk. Stop for a minute. Listen to me.”

Jesus was about to go to the Cross. The only way He could face that horrible death was with the perspective of this mountaintop moment, when He heard the loving and affirming voice of His Father. And why did He take these disciples to witness it? Because He knew the only way they could face what was coming was if they had the perspective of the transcendent glory of their Teacher, Leader, Savior, and Friend.
In one of his books, Søren Kierkegaard cites an interesting parable. There is a rich man riding through the countryside at night in his carriage. His fancy carriage has lanterns that illuminate the immediate area and he feels secure in that, yet fearful about what lies in the darkness beyond the reach of the lantern light. By contrast, the peasant rides through the night in a carriage without lanterns. So he fixes his eyes on the starry sky and thus he sees gloriously in the dark, but starry night.

May I suggest that far too often our religion is like the man riding in lantern light? We have our safe little cocoon of understanding and think we are secure. Yet in truth we are trapped by our limited perspective. We need a larger perspective. We need the perspective of the starry night. We need a vision of the majesty of God that will hold us steady when it looks like all of life is about to crumble around our feet. We need to know we serve a God who is bigger than our articles of faith. We need to know we serve a God who is bigger than the church. We need to know we serve a God who is bigger than all of our religious effort. We serve a God who is high and lifted up, the King of kings and Lord of lords. And God wants to show himself to us. Sometimes we just need to quiet ourselves, get speechless, and listen.

The vision of the transfigured Jesus made an indelible impression upon Peter’s mind. In the second letter that bears his name he wrote to the church years later,

We were eyewitnesses of his majesty. For he received honor and glory from God the Father when the voice came to him from the Majestic Glory, saying, ‘This is my son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” We ourselves heard this voice that came from heaven when we were with him on the sacred mountain (2 Peter 1:16b-18).

We are preparing this week to enter into the season of Lent. This is a time when for the seven weeks leading up to Easter we have an opportunity to go a little speechless in our journey with Jesus. It’s a time for repentance. Perhaps one of the most important kinds of repentance for us would be to repent from the noise of sensory overload of our culture. Lent is a time for contemplation, taking stock, going deeper, allowing God to correct and discipline us.

I wonder if you could find some special times and some regular times to shut out the noise, put away the distractions, close the book, put down the pen, and go speechless before God? Just wait in the presence of a holy God. Receive the grace of being humbled in His presence. Receive the grace of the “holy fear” that comes over us whenever God is in His sanctuary.

You need the perspective of the mountain. So please quit trying to pound in the tent pegs and get your spiritual journey all under control. Sometimes you just need to stop. You need to gaze upon the glory of our Savior. Go speechless in the presence of Jesus.