Luke 9: 28-36

The Long Dark Night of the Soul

Have you ever noticed that life has a way sometimes of slipping up behind and slapping us in the head – or some other body part! Sometimes it is a gentle slap. Other times it is not.

Case in point: a man was driving down the road. He passed a traffic camera and saw it flash. Astounded that he had been caught speeding when he was doing the speed limit, the man turned around and, going even slower, passed the camera again. It flashed once more.

He couldn’t believe it! He turned, going a snail’s pace, and passed the camera one more time. Again, he saw the camera flash. He guessed there must be a problem with the camera and went home.

Four weeks later he received three traffic fines in the mail--all for not wearing a seatbelt. Life can be cruel! I’ll bet he experienced a few sleepless nights beating himself up over that one!

In his book titled Not That You Asked , TV’s Andy Rooney also talks about things that keep him awake at night. In it he lists 100 of his oldest and most fervently believed opinions.

For instance, he says, “I don’t like any music I can’t hum.” Some of us can relate to that. Or how about this: “When I was young I always assumed I’d get to like carrots when I got older, but I never did.” Or this one: “If dogs could talk, it would take a lot of the fun out of owning one.”

On a little more serious note, Rooney writes: “I do not accept the inevitability of my own death. I secretly think there may be some other way out.” Only one person I know figured that one out.

But here’s the one I want you to think about: “The middle of the night,” says Andy Rooney, “seems longer than it used to.”

Can anyone relate to that? If you have ever laid awake mulling over a deep hurt or a nagging worry, or even a “stupid” mistake, you know what he is talking about. The middle of the night can be mighty long and lonely. The story of Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration occurred at a time when the disciples were in the middle of a long night.

The story is told by Matthew, Mark and Luke with an almost equal amount of detail. It is significant that each of the Evangelists introduces his telling of the story with the same word, “after” followed by a period of days ranging from six to eight.

That word is something more than a connecting-link, a bridge thrown over the preceding blank space of days; it is rather, I think, one of the keys which unlocks the whole meaning and mystery of the Transfiguration.

Luke begins his version of the Transfiguration story like this: “About eight days after Jesus said this” (Matthew and Mark have it at six days, but no matter). . . “About eight days after Jesus said this…” 

Now I don’t know about you – but my first thought is: Said what? Might that be important?  Sure! So let’s go back a little, and see. First, Jesus had asked his disciples what people were saying about him. Peter responds – “Some John the Baptist, others Elijah, some one of the prophets.”

Jesus then asks, “But who do YOU say that I am?”

In response, Peter made his memorable confession--the first Apostles’ Creed, if you will.  “Thou art the Christ of God.” Pretty impressive declaration, huh? Pretty deep understanding.

Immediately, however, Jesus bursts their bubble when he says this:

“The Son of man must suffer many things and be rejected of the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed, and the third day be raised up.” And, in just that short, succinct moment, he shattered the disciples’ bright dream.

Like some fearful nightmare, the foreshadowing of the cross fell upon their hearts, filling them with fear, and gloom, and striking down hope, and courage, and even faith itself.

 It would almost seem as if the disciples were unnerved, paralyzed by the blow, and as if they were unable to speak for the next eight days are filled with silence. No word, no deed is recorded - at least as far as the Gospels are concerned.

The question then becomes this: how shall their lost hope be rekindled, their courage be revived? How shall they be taught that death does not end all, and that one shall find his life by losing it?

The Transfiguration. That’s the answer. Their experience on the Mount of Transfiguration would wake them in the middle of their long, dark night.

Have you ever experienced one of those long nights when your hopes were dashed and your mind and heart were filled with dread? When you are in the middle of that dark night sitting at the bedside of a loved one in their last hours, or lying in a hospital bed with tubes sticking in you, or going over your checkbook in the wee hours of the morning wondering how you will ever make ends meet, or watching helplessly as your teenager fouls up her life, or whatever your long dark night of the soul might be. 

It’s hard at such times to hold on to the promises of God.

And the disciples were in just such a dark night. They had left everything they had and placed all their hopes in Jesus. Now Jesus tells them that he must be crucified.

It is then when their hearts are numb with hurt and disbelief that Luke writes, “About eight days after Jesus said this, he took Peter, John and James with him and went up onto a mountain to pray.”

And it was as he was praying that he was transfigured and that Peter, James and John saw his glory. And they heard God say, “This is my son, listen to him.” 

In the middle of their long night, when their hearts were laden with anxiety and despair, the disciples became fully awake to the truth of the Gospel: Christ is Lord. Jesus is indeed the Son of God. The fact that Jesus must be taken from them did not negate the promise that he had brought into their lives.

There is a dawn that follows every darkness, hope that follows every despair, a beginning that follows every ending. The experience on the Mount of Transfiguration came at precisely that moment when the disciples were prepared to believe the worse about the future, when they were ready to throw up their hands in despair and resignation. In the middle of their long night, the message of hope was delivered.

An unknown woman tells of losing her mother, whom she called, “her dearest friend,” to cancer. Always supportive, her mother clapped loudest at her daughter’s school plays, held a box of tissues while listening to her first heartbreak, comforted her at her father’s death, encouraged her in college, and prayed for her, her entire life.

Now she sat at her mother’s funeral. The hurt was so intense. She found it hard to breathe. “What now, Lord?” she asked as she sat alone in the hard pew, grieving. Now her mother was gone, and she was alone.

Then she heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church. Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor. An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next to her. He folded his hands and placed them on his lap. His eyes were brimming with tears. He began to sniffle.

“I’m late,” he explained, though no explanation was necessary. After several eulogies, he leaned over and asked, “Why do they keep calling Mary by the name of ‘Margaret’?”

“Oh,” this young woman replied, “Because that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary. No one called her ‘Mary, ‘“ she whispered. She wondered why this person couldn’t have sat on the other side of the church. He interrupted her grieving with his tears and fidgeting. Who was this stranger anyway?

“No, that isn’t correct,” he insisted, as several people glanced over at them whispering, “Her name is Mary, Mary Peters.”

“That isn’t who this is,” she replied.

“Isn’t this the Lutheran church?” he asked sheepishly.

“No,” she said, “the Lutheran church is across the street. I believe you’re at the wrong funeral, Sir.”

The solemnness of the occasion mixed with the realization of the man’s mistake bubbled up inside the young woman and came out as laughter.

She cupped her hands over her face, hoping it would be interpreted as sobs. The creaking pew gave her away. Sharp looks from other mourners only made the situation seem more hilarious.

She peeked at the bewildered, misguided man seated beside her. He was laughing, too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late for an uneventful exit. She imagined her mother laughing.

At the final “Amen,” they darted out a door and into the parking lot.

“I do believe we’ll be the talk of the town,” he smiled. He said his name was Rick and since he had missed his aunt’s funeral, asked her out for a cup of coffee.

That afternoon began a lifelong journey. A year after their meeting, this couple was married at a country church where he was the assistant pastor. This time they both arrived at the same church, right on time.

The woman writes, “In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter. In place of loneliness, God gave me love. This past June we celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary.” 

Now, not all dark nights of the soul are followed with such a beautiful ending. Loved ones die, kids continue to screw up, we go bankrupt … But, and this is a big BUT, we can hold on to the knowledge that Jesus IS Lord. This, right here, right now, is not all there is.  We are not and never will be alone.

In the middle of our long night God gives us hope. That is what the Transfiguration is all about. The dispirited disciples needed at that moment in their lives to see the glory of Christ revealed. And when his glory was revealed, they were able to get their lives back on track again.

And that’s what many of us need to know in the middle of our long night. God is still God. Christ is still Lord. Beyond the darkness--whatever that darkness may be--there is the dawn.

My friends – if you are down or discouraged.  If the only light you see at the end of the tunnel is a train barreling down on you … DO NOT DISPAIR!  God has not deserted you.  He is and will continue to hold you and love you and sustain you. 

Jesus’ presence on that mountain that day assured the disciples and it should assure us.  Believe the Good News!

Amen.