Transfiguration and Reflection

Before we begin, I want to say just a word about what this is—and what it isn’t.

This isn’t a sermon. I’m not trying to preach, and I’m certainly not trying to fill in for our pastor. I’m just a member of this congregation, like you, and this is simply a time for us to slow down together, hear some Scripture, and sit for a bit with words that are meant to steady us.

I just read an article titled: Beyond This Point, There Be Dragons by Derek Penwell, senior minister at Douglass Boulevard Christian Church in Louisville. According to Penwell, sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is admit that you’re lost. Penwell describes a situation in which his children became lost and the anxiety of waiting for them to be found. He goes on to say that beyond moments as oppressive as the absence of someone you love more than your own life, there is the realization that the future has become a forbidding place, offering only the promise of terror and loss. Powell says that we all feel it at one time or another – the dread that comes after some trauma when you realize that the stable future you pictured in your mind isn't remotely what you thought it would be.

Today also happens to be Transfiguration Sunday—a day in the church year that doesn’t always get a lot of attention, but maybe should. It’s about a moment when the disciples catch a glimpse of God’s glory right in the middle of confusion, fear, and uncertainty.

We’re in a moment like that now. A lot feels uncertain—both in the world around us and here in our church. Our minister is on leave, taking needed time for rest and care. That can stir up questions and emotions, even if we understand why it’s necessary.

So today is not about answers or direction. It’s about reassurance. It’s about reminding ourselves that God is still present, that this church still belongs to God.

We will read some Scripture. I’ll offer a few reflections as a fellow traveler in faith. And at a few points, I’ll invite us to respond together—not to perform, just to participate.

Let us begin with a short prayer.

God of grace,

help us settle into this moment.

Quiet what needs quieting.

Open what needs opening.

Be with us here.

Amen.

Scripture Reading I: Naming What We’re Carrying - Psalm 13 (selected verses)

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I bear pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all day long?

Leader: Hear what the Spirit is saying to the church.

People: We are listening.

But I trusted in your steadfast love;

my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.

I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me.

Reflection

I’m always struck by how honest the Psalms are.

This one doesn’t start with praise. It starts with a question— “How long?”

And I think a lot of us know that question pretty well.

How long will things feel tense?

How long before life feels calmer?

How long before church feels less heavy?

The psalmist doesn’t clean that question up before bringing it to God. And that tells me something important: faith doesn’t require us to pretend.

If you have been tired – emotionally, spiritually, or just plain worn down – you are in good company. Scripture makes room for that.

What I also notice is how the psalm ends. It doesn’t end with everything resolved. It ends with trust. Not certainty. Not clarity. Just trust.

Sometimes faith is simply deciding to say connected – to God, to one another – even when things feel unfinished. And maybe that’s one reason this psalm pairs so well with Transfiguration Sunday. Because before there is glory, there is honesty. Before there is clarity, there is confusion.

Sometimes faith is simply deciding to stay connected—to God, to one another—even when things feel unfinished.

Responsive Reading: A Prayer We Share

Leader: God, we come to you tired.

People: We come just as we are.

Leader: We carry worries we cannot fix.

People: Help us set them down.

Leader: We long for peace that we cannot manufacture.

People: Meet us with your presence.

Leader: Remind us we are not alone.

People: We trust that you are with us.

Scripture Reading II: A Glimpse of Glory - Luke 9:28–36 (selected verses)

Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray.

And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed…

They were terrified as they entered the cloud.

Then a voice came from the cloud, saying, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

Leader: Hear what the Spirit is saying to the church.

People: Thanks be to God.

Reflection

The Transfiguration is a strange story.

The disciples are tired. They’re confused. They don’t fully understand where Jesus is leading them. And suddenly—without warning—there’s light, and glory, and a voice from a cloud. And what does that voice say? Not “Fix this.” Not “Explain this.”Not even “Understand this.” It says, “Listen.”

Peter wants to do something. He wants to build something. He wants to lock the moment in place. But that’s not what’s asked of him.

On Transfiguration Sunday, the invitation is not action—it’s attention. Not certainty—but listening. Not rushing ahead—but staying present.

That feels especially important right now. As a church, we don’t need to force clarity before it comes. We don’t need to solve what is still unfolding. We can listen—for God, and for one another.

Scripture Reading III: Jesus Speaks to the Weary - Matthew 11:28–30

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest…”

Leader: Hear what the Spirit is saying to the church.

People: We give thanks for this word.

Reflection

Even after the mountaintop moment, Jesus leads the disciples back down into ordinary life.

Transfiguration doesn’t remove hardship—it reminds us that God’s presence goes with us into it.

There is a kind of quiet glory in choosing patience.

In choosing gentleness.

In choosing rest when the world demands urgency.

As a church, we don’t have to be loud to be faithful. Sometimes our faith shows up simply by making space—for rest, for healing, for hope.

Scripture Reading IV: We Belong to Each Other - 1 Corinthians 12:26–27

If one member suffers, all suffer together… Now you are the body of Christ.

Leader: Hear what the Spirit is saying to the church.

People: Thanks be to God.

Reflection

Right now, one part of the body is resting. And the rest of the body responds with care.

That, too, is transfiguration—not sudden light, but steady faithfulness.

Not spectacle, but love.

Even now—especially now—God is still at work among us.

Scripture Reading V: Living in a Season - Ecclesiastes 3: 1–4

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance.

Leader: Hear what the Spirit is saying to the church.

People: Thanks be to God.

Reflection

We don’t love waiting. Most of us would rather move straight to resolution.

But Scripture reminds us that life unfolds in rhythms. And not every moment is meant for pushing forward. Some moments are meant for pausing.

Right now, our church is in a pause. Our minister is resting. And maybe—if we’re honest—some of us need that reminder too.

Rest doesn’t mean we don’t care.

It doesn’t mean we’re stuck.

In Scripture, rest is part of how God works.

If this season feels uncomfortable, that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. It may simply mean that God is doing quieter work than we’re used to noticing.

Closing Scripture Romans 15:13

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Friends, we are still a people of hope—not because everything is settled, but because God is faithful.

May you leave today feeling a little lighter.

May you find rest where you need it most.

And may the peace of God go with us all.

Amen.

Brief Closing Prayer

Let us pray. God of hope and mercy,

Thank you for meeting us in this moment.

Take what we carry from this place—

the worries, the weariness, the uncertainty—

and hold them with care. Give rest to those who need rest.

Give patience where it is thin. Give peace where hearts are heavy. And guide this church gently through this season, trusting that you are still at work among us. We place ourselves in your care.

Amen.