Mark 9:2-9
“Discovering
God in Silence”
In church language, we call the Sunday
before Lent, The Transfiguration of our Lord.
This strange word comes from the mysterious story that I just told the
children. It is a story about the sudden
appearance of two ancient heroes. It is
a story of a revelation concerning the identity of Jesus. It is a story that leads to the phrase
“mountain top experience”. But first and
foremost it is a story that reminds us that when we are in the presence of God,
we are reduced to silence.
The Ft.
Davis Mountains
are one of the oldest mountain ranges in North America. I have been told they are actually the
southern tip of the Appalachians, which makes
no sense to me but then I am not an archeologist. The Ft.
Davis Mountains
are located in Texas, west of Ft. Stockton
and south of I-10. For about 10 days in
the month of April the Ft.
Davis Mountains
are one of the prettiest places in the world.
The spring flowers of Texas
shower those mountains with every color imaginable. But for the other 355 days it is a stark
reminder of how desolate this world can be.
In the midst of the Ft. Davis Mountains there is a conference center
called Prude Ranch. It is a working
ranch, complete with horses and cows. Once
in the spring and once in the fall, the Presbytery of Tres Rios would rent the
ranch to hold week-end youth retreats.
Twice a year, I would pack our youth into the church bus and head for
the Davis Mountains.
Often I would be asked to either lead or
write the program for those events. One
particular year I had written a program which was designated to help the youth
grapple with issues of trust and
faith. Behind the ranch was a well
climbed hill called Little Round Top which offered a magnificent view of the mountains
and valley. On a clear day, which
practically defined every day in West Texas, one could see McDonald’s
Observatory which housed the second largest telescope in the United States. Needless to say, at night in the Davis Mountains,
the only light was provided by God.
I got the idiotic idea that the climax
of our Saturday night experience would be to escort 100 middle school kids up
Little Round Top and hold a worship service.
Many of the adult leaders were not excited by this idea. There were a thousand things that could
wrong. I promised the leaders the trail
would be well lit and safety would be our highest priority. But let’s be honest, when you combine the
words mountain, darkness and middle school kids, anyone can understand the
concerns. After some discussion, we
decided to proceed with the experience.
At the end of our evening session, I
sent members of the youth council ahead of us to mark the path with their
flashlights. When the last member
reached the top we started out. What
normally was a 30 minute climb in daylight ended up taking over an hour. Some of our more adventuresome youth broke
from the lit trail and found their own way to the summit. Tensions were a bit high by the time the
entire group arrived intact. Many of the
kids had already been there for twenty minutes and were ready to go back
down. Others were exhausted from the
effort and panting heavily. In the midst
of all this I tried to calm them down and lead worship. I pulled out my notes turned on my flashlight
and looked at what I had prepared. Then
I looked at my congregation. There were
100 kids, many of them who had never been up Little Round Top. The ones who had climbed it before wanted to
hang off the rocks in the dark. The new
comers were worried about getting down in the dark. And the adults had already formed a committee
to hang me at dawn which by the way is still believed to be legal in Texas.
I stuck my notes in my pocket, put my
flashlight under my chin to reflect my face and said, “In order for us to
worship we have to prepare ourselves.
Everyone sit down, turn off your flashlight when I turn mine off and
silently reflect on the words I will share with you.” I turned off my flashlight and paraphrased the
opening words from Psalm 19, “The heavens are telling the glory of God, and the
moon and stars proclaim God’s handiwork.” At first there were the usual giggles
and responses that always accompany 14 year olds. But then they became silent. And that is when worship began. Not a word was said, for five, ten, nearly
fifteen minutes. 100 plus kids and
adults, sat silently gazing into the heavens, captured not by the stars, not by
the moment, but by the Spirit of God. Knowing
that no words could describe what we had experienced I turned on my flash light,
said “Amen” and declared it was time to go back down the hill. The mob that climbed Little Round Top
quietly, reverently, made their way down the hill and back to their
cabins. There was no evaluation at the
end of the process; the traditional Saturday night gathering around the fire
was cancelled. The kids just returned to
their cabins and went to bed. Once you
have seen God, what else is there to do?
In the following years, I climbed Little
Round Top many times. Sometimes it was
with others, sometimes it was by myself, often it was at night. The breathtaking view was always the same,
but not the experience. I quickly learned it was not the view, it was not the
night air, it was not even the adrenalin. It was the silence, a silence so loud
that it blocked every single thought from my mind and me to see God.
What would you give for that
experience? Should we jump in our cars
and run up to Humpback for a view a thousand times more impressive than Little
Round Top? Should we volunteer to be a chaperon
for the next Presbytery middle school retreat in hopes that you will discover
the sound of silence? Perhaps none of
that is necessary.
When Jesus and the disciples came down
from the mountain they were met by a very noisy crowd demanding Jesus’ full
attention. A father shouted out,
“Teacher, would you look at my child? He is possessed by a demon.” As if on cue the child began to scream out
all kinds unspeakable curses. Jesus
went to the boy, touched him, and the boy and every one around him fell silent
as they were “Astounded by the greatness of God.” It was a mountain top experience, without the
mountain.
How often we are aware of the power of
God to quell the noise, the commotion, the disorder in our daily lives? How often are we willing to embrace silence
as a way of beckoning God? How often do
we practice silence as a daily discipline to discover God? How often do we affirm that the God of
silence is also the God who eternally walks beside us?
We think of experiences like Ft. Davis
come once in a lifetime. But for those willing to embrace the silence, the
presence of God can be an everyday phenomenon.
Open eyes and closed mouths often lead to unexpected epiphanies of
grace.
The folks who put together the Christian
calendar knew what they were doing when they placed the Transfiguration on the
Sunday before Ash Wednesday. They are
saying the Christ witnessed on the mountain is also the Christ you will find in
the valley. The Christ who stands beside Elijah and Moses is also the Christ
who stands beside the broken boy. The
Christ who was declared to be the Chosen is
also the Christ who has chosen you.
Think about that…… silently.
Run that around in your soul…….
Silently.
Remember, “The Lord is in his Holy Temple. Let all the world keep silence”. See with your hearts, and not just your eyes
and you will regularly experience the glory of God. Amen.
