One Foot In Front of the Other

Scripture Lessons: 2nd Kings 2: 1-12 and Mark 9: 2-9 Sermon title: One Foot In Front of the Other Preached on 2/14/2021 Both our first and second Scripture Lessons take place on top of a mountain. Both are momentous occasions, which makes sense to me, because some of the momentous occasions of my life have also taken place on mountain tops. The first time Sara kissed me, we were up on top of a mountain. I proposed to her a couple years later on that same mountain peak, and because she said yes, even more so, I think of mountain tops as meaningful places. As you can imagine that day, I was nervous on our way up, working up the courage to ask. At the top, I felt relief and joy when she said yes. But then, as we went back down it was clear that I suddenly had a whole new set of things to be nervous about that I haven’t even really considered on the way up. I hadn’t really thought about how much growing up is required of making that step from being someone’s boyfriend to being her husband. Maybe this is true of mountains: that we’re expecting the challenge of getting to the top of them, only what about the coming down? Sometimes mountain tops change us, so going down the mountain, I remember how she was talking about telling our friends and her family. Dates and location of the ceremony. Where would we live? What would happen next? Nervous the whole way up that mountain, I expected to be more relaxed coming back down, but I wasn’t because on top of that mountain everything had changed and now, we were on our way to some place new that I’d never been to before. Do you know what that’s like? Finding yourself on the way to some place new? Imagining yourself differently, so differently that you can’t really ever go back home. You have to rethink who you are closest to and which relationship are the most important? Thinking about mountain tops, how do you come back down? How do you re-integrate yourself into the world as a changed person? I suppose one way to do it, is to learn from people who have done it before. You noticed that Jesus isn’t alone in our Second Scripture Lesson. Moses makes his way into this event that we call the Transfiguration from the Gospel of Mark. You know all about Moses, and this is what occurs to me about Moses today, as he appears, dazzling white, beside Jesus up on top of that mountain: he’d already led the people out of Egypt and across the sea, but it’s only when coming down from a mountain top having received the 10 Commandments from Almighty God that we see how he’s changed, while the Hebrew people are busy building an idol out of gold, as though they’d never really left Egypt. Has it ever been this way with you? Have you ever noticed that something was different inside of you? That something had changed? That you were not the same, and you no longer fit in with those you used to fit in with, because suddenly you’d been transformed? In this season of mask wearing and physical distancing, surely, we’re all feeling a little of that still. I preached a funeral for a long-time church member, Joan Young, last Saturday, and the funeral home staff member said that they’ve had four times as many funerals last month than they did January of last year. For some of us, everything has changed because of this virus, but then you get around certain people who act as though nothing’s changed. How do you handle that? How do we handle the change that takes place within us, even as the rest of the world is slow to change? Moses knew what it was like and so did Elisha. There are two prophets in our First Scripture Lesson with dangerously similar sounding names: Elijah and Elisha. Elijah is there with Moses in our Second Scripture Lesson up on top of the mountain with Jesus, so maybe you know a lot about him already. What about Elisha? In our First Scripture Lesson Elijah and Elisha make their way up a mountain. On their way to the mountain Elijah took his mantle, rolled it up, and struck the Jordan River so that the water was parted to the one side and to the other. Together they walked through the water on dry land as Moses and the Hebrew people did through the sea, but then they went to the top of the mountain and Elijah was taken up into heaven by a whirlwind. Elisha had to go back down the mountain as a changed man, walking into an unchanged world, now without the person who’d always shown him the way. Do you know what that’s like? Taking a most important step, without anyone to hold your hand? I feel sure that you do. Last week we had a special church-staff lunch to celebrate Alesia Jones and her ministry among us. Her parents were there, and her father told me that he still remembered how brave she was walking across the stage at a large auditorium, nothing on the stage but his 10-year-old girl and a grand piano she intended to play in front of this huge crowd. This is how it is. To grow, we take steps into the unknown, without always having someone by our side, and sometimes it’s even taking a step into the valley of the shadow of death. Jesus led the Disciples up the mountain, then started back down. Where was he going? You know, and so did Peter. Peter didn’t like it. Of course, he didn’t. Something that’s funny to think about is how many leaders we know of will do anything to hold onto their power and influence. Some will fight tooth and nail to be re-elected, or they keep going to the office long after they should. They can’t pass leadership to anyone new, while Jesus spends this huge part of his ministry trying to get Peter to lead and Peter won’t do it. Peter doesn’t want to come down from the mountain. He’s not ready to take the next step. He says to Jesus, up on top of that mountain, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” There’s no reason for us to go back down. Let’s just stay right up here. It’s just us. We’re fine. We’ll make some dwellings, James will start a fire, and John will gather some pinecones or something for us to eat. Let’s just stay right up here for a while, because I’m not ready to take the next step. I’m not ready to leave this place. I’m not ready for us to go any further. I’m fine where I am. Do you know that feeling? Sure, you do. Everyone does. It’s the feeling we’ve been having since we were babies. We took our first step, and as soon as it’s done being exciting, we wanted to be back in our mother’s arms. We remember how Peter wants to walk on the water, only then he looks down and starts to sink. “Help me Jesus!” he yelled, and Jesus did. But what’s going to happen when Jesus isn’t there to bail him out? For Peter, this moment up on top of the mountain brings with it this horrible realization: that all the time Jesus has been talking about being the son of God, he was serious. That when he said he had to go on the Jerusalem to fulfill his purpose, he wasn’t joking. And that when Jesus had been talking about his death, he meant it. What that means for Peter is that his old life is over. His true purpose is right on the horizon, and any doubts he has within himself might as well be left behind on the mountain top. The time for playing at being the Rock of the Church has come to an end and the time to be the Rock of the Church is coming because Jesus is going to Jerusalem to die. How do you cope with that? How do you become someone new? How do you walk into the unknown without the person who’s always been there? That’s an important question for us to ask ourselves today, as Alesia Jones, who’s been on that rug for our kids all through this pandemic, and for so many years before that, is moving on to make a difference in this world in new and different ways. She’s made a difference to our kids, and now she’s leaving. How do we cope with that? I ask that question as a parent. You might imagine that our daughters have received several Bibles in their lives. They have. People give Bibles to preacher’s kids, but the only Bibles I’ve seen them read voluntarily are the Bibles Alesia Jones gave them. She’s been leading all our children on their journey of faith for 22 years now. And because she’s retiring, I call your attention to this truth: that the very best leaders are those who teach us how to stand on our own. The journey is long. The path is rarely easy. But God gives us companions on the journey, and the best of those companions aren’t always there to hold our hand. The very best are those who show us that we have the strength within us to step out on our own, because that’s what it takes. Step by step we walk down the mountain, not always to the sound of applause and a supportive crowd, but sometimes to shouts and jeers. When that happens, we cannot cease being transformed though the world remains the same. We must be a part of the transformation of this entire world. Challenge after challenge. Change after change. Doing, not what’s easy, but what’ right. Not what’s popular, but what’s true. Moving towards the Promised Land, not like sheep without a shepherd, but like disciples, who have made the faith of their mothers and fathers their own. Thank you, Alesia Jones, for walking with my children, and for helping them along their journey. Thank you, on behalf of so many parents and so many children of this church. We are all better because of you, and we will continue on. Amen.