Timeless Transfiguration (Psalm 2, Matthew 17)

 

Have you ever heard of the concept of flow? Flow is a state of being when you’re so engrossed in something you loose track of time. I know, that’s how you all feel when listening to my sermons… It’s sometimes described as ‘in the zone’, a state of relaxed concentration of focus. A strange paradox between something that feels like time is standing still, and also it’s over in a minute. Effortless but also a sense of extreme challenge, effortless but intense.

Flow is something that I feel sometimes when I’m playing the piano at home, especially when it’s going well. I sometimes, on a good day, feel it when I’m sermon writing or presiding at a service. Focussed, concentrating and in the moment. And other times I’m thinking about lunch…

Some people when they get into a state of flow forget to drink, eat, and focus for very long periods of time without stopping. Ever been in that situation where you start work on something, it’s about two in the afternoon, then suddenly it’s dark and you glance at your watch, and realise that it’s now five! I get that all the time when I’m editing posters and photos. Time changes, moulds around that focus.

I’ve also noticed the crossover between flow, and religious experiences. Moments that feel timeless and also over in an instant. In a moment of flow, you kind of loose that sense of yourself, and are fully engaged in what’s going on. In my experience, my most profound religious experiences have been like that. I’d like to share one with you.

Where are places that you’ve met God? Perhaps up a mountain like in our gospel reading today? Mountains are places where God frequently meets with people in the Bible. Mountains are places of encounter with God. Jesus went up one to pray, the Transfiguration that we heard in our Gospel reading today, and of course Moses going up to meet with God twice to get the Ten Commandments. Perhaps you’ve felt God’s presence and met with God in a Church or Cathedral? Maybe during a service or a sermon. Perhaps out in nature? Seeing God in the waves of the sea, the flora or the earth, watching birds or gazing on a sunset. There are lots of different ways to encounter God.

I met God in a stuffy conference centre. No, really. I know that sounds like the beginning of a Morrissey song but honestly, I did.

It was my second year at On Fire Mission, a conference that I go to as a retreat. It’s an incredible place, an inclusive community, a full high mass with a worship band, there’s nothing else like it.

The first year I’d never come across anything like it. People would go up for prayer, and suddenly just drop to the floor. My initial instinct was to go over and help, I thought there was something wrong. My friend said ‘dno’t worry they’re okay.’ I thought what the heck is this?

It was the first time that I’d seen people ‘rest in the spirit.’ It’s this thing where people feel the presence of God so strongly that they fall over and lie on the ground. It’s not my cup of tea at all. I didn’t understand it or want to do anything like that. It felt weird to me, the kind of thing that’d happen in a cult.

My second year I went to a meeting of the new people, and was invited to speak about my experience of On Fire Mission. I was very happy to, and in the meeting I spoke about how nervous I was the first time I came to OFM, but that everyone had been so welcoming and supportive, that I’d not been forced to do anything I didn’t feel comfortable with. Then to a room full of people I loudly proclaimed that there was ‘no way I was ever going to fall down.’

There was an ‘oooh’ that rippled through the room and someone said ‘don’t say that it’ll definitely happen now.’ But for me there was no way, I wasn’t in to that, I didn’t really believe that it was genuine.

Then we got to opening worship…

The talk was amazing, and the person leading it said, if you’d like to come forward for prayer then please do. He laid hands on me, and all I can say is God’s got a sense of humour, because I started to go. But I stopped myself, no I said. No I’m not doing that. God is gracious and didn’t force me.  

Then the person who was praying for me said. If you want to fall I’ve got you, you are safe, you don’t have to do anything, but I’m here.

He continued to lay hands on me, and I remember just letting go, relinquishing control to God and I fell on the floor.

You know when you’re on a beach and you can feel the warm sunshine bathing your entire body head to toe? It was just like that, but it was this presence of complete love that was so strong, I just couldn’t stand in it. It invited me to the floor. Like a stream of water bathing my whole body. But it wasn’t oppressive, it was calming and peaceful. It was an experience I’ve never understood. It must’ve only lasted for about a minute, but I felt like it had been an eternity. Perhaps streams of living water flow.

Well that was weird, I thought. But I doubt it’ll ever happen again…

The next day I went up for prayer ministry, and I fell, again! I couldn’t believe it. That sense of timelessness overtook me again, I wasn’t at any point trying to make anything happen, it just happened, and even now I’m not sure I believe it. But before I went up for prayer, I remember praying, Lord it’s your will. I place myself into your hands.

It reminds me of those verses from Psalm 2 “I will proclaim the Lord’s decree: He said to me, “you are my son; today I have become your father. Ask me and I will make the nations your inheritance, the ends of the earth your possession.” Oh that I could hear that voice all the time. Have that feeling once again of being totally loved and comforted. Don’t we all wish for that? Yet often I feel there’s a gulf between me and God. A chasm I can’t always cross.

There’s something about experiencing God that is timeless, a timeless transfiguration as God is beyond time. I think in a sense my experience is a bit similar to what the disciples must’ve experienced on that mountain. A sense of God’s love and power, a sense of flow, timelessness, here and not here. Dipping their toes into something of God’s reality.

God’s reality is not ours, and God isn’t constrained to what we think, or feel or believe. God is in constant relationship with God’s self in the holy and undivided trinity. It’s mind blowing and when people say ‘but how, how can you possibly believe in the miracles, in mountaintop experiences like this one? It doesn’t make any sense!’ I say, well, God’s God, and God can do whatever God wants to do, because She’s God!

Because I’ve been to something like that mountaintop and I don’t really understand it either, I don’t think the disciples understood, when or how they were in the presence of Jesus, Moses and Elijah, but maybe the point isn’t always understanding, or knowing, or head knowledge.

Maybe the start is love? Perhaps the start is the phrase in our Gospel ‘This is my son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!’

Perhaps this is something that God says to all of us, in our times of isolation, and of flow. This is my daughter, my son, whom I love. When the revelation of that love comes it’s overwhelming for the disciples, and they were afraid.

Perhaps I was afraid too in my experience, but it wasn’t God that made me afraid, has His presence was nothing but calm and love. It was the loss of control that scared me.

Jesus came to the disciples and said to them, do not be afraid. He tells them not to tell anyone because unlike fake prophets Jesus doesn’t seek his own enrichment or glory, but seeks to give God the glory, and what’s best for the disciples.

The mountaintop can be desolate, it can be a cold and frightening place, but we are called there, to that moment, to be with Jesus. We don’t need to understand always, and for some of us that might be unacceptable. All I can say is the times when I have experienced God so strongly, have been times when I have let go of my need to control. Myself, how I look, what I believe, and just bask in that presence.

It's been a long time since that last happened, and I hope that the flow will come back one day. Perhaps over coffee you might like to speak of times when God has been particularly present for you, or absent.

My hope and prayer is that we can know something of God’s presence among us here and now, in us and around us. That we can understand the unknowableness of what we know to be true, which I know makes absolutely no sense.

But maybe it isn’t about understanding, maybe it’s about acceptance and relinquishing our control, so that God can and will work with us, because there’s no forcing with God, and we are all precious in his sight. Amen.