What does it mean? That’s the key question of any Scripture text. What we all ask.

What does it mean? That’s the challenge presented to every preacher. The answer is the sermon.

What does it mean? That’s a question that is sometimes easy, sometimes hard, depending on the text.

What does it mean? For today’s lesson on the Transfiguration, the answer doesn’t come easy. I had to pull out all of my tools from seminary—translation, exegesis, hermeneutics, and deconstruction—to try to answer the question: What does it mean?

Let’s look first at the content. This mountaintop experience of Jesus’ face shining recalls the experiences of Moses and Elijah. Here, Moses represents the law; Elijah the prophets; and Jesus the fulfillment of law and prophecy. The cloud serves to both manifest and conceal the presence of God. The voice confirms the presence of God on the mountain and confirms Jesus’ identity as the Messiah and Son of God. This experience foretold Jesus’ death and resurrection in Jerusalem. This passage is rich with meaning and can be examined from any number of angles. But, what does it mean?

Let’s look at the context. Notice phrases like: "And while he was praying. . ." and "Since they had stayed awake. .." They tell us that this whole intense religious experience happened in the context of prayer. And so, praying regularly and staying awake and alert help to mediate an experience of God. The disciples were seemingly enlightened like they hadn’t been before. And so, the booths were an attempt to freeze this religious mountaintop experience. But, in coming down from the mountain, the context changed, everything was different, and they kept silent.

After using all my best tools of examination, I thought I had enough to write a sermon, and I even gave it a title: "The Contextualization of the Transfiguration." What does it mean?

I thought I knew, but that was last Thursday, in the seclusion of my office, surrounded by my books.

But, I had more to learn. On Friday, during Ladies’ Night Out, I sat with a group of people reading this text together. I shared theological insights about the text and the power of transfiguration.

It was a good discussion. But, then the hard questions came: But, what does it mean for our context? If God can make faces shine and transform clothes to dazzling white, why can’t God change my anger to forgiveness; change my loss to blessing; change my doubt to faith; change my worries to peace? If God doesn’t answer my prayers and change my circumstances, what does that say about God? I don’t always understand God’s ways. The Contextualization of the Transfiguration. . .What does it mean?

On Saturday morning, I came for the Food Pantry. I had to be there early to set up, but, 6:30 a.m. wasn’t early enough. People were already there, waiting for the 10:00 food distribution to begin. As I handed out numbers to them; As I watched them devour the simple sack breakfasts prepared by Character Builders of a muffin and a banana; As I saw children come in from the freezing cold without mittens or a hat, I wondered what they would think about my contextualization of the transfiguration? What does it mean? Instead, I simply said to them, "God bless you."

On Sunday afternoon, I attended the Community Dinner. Our family sat with a couple who had come for the dinner. Despite the freezing cold temperatures, they were set to ride their bikes, until an aunt offered to drive them. He talked about struggling to find work after his uncle for whom he worked had died of cancer. She talked about her 8 children who were all in foster care. She picked up some books from the rack and some granola bars from the bowl to share with her children the next time she visited with them, she hoped. Her face was heavy with worry. Her clothes were dirty and ragged. I thought about that while praying Jesus’ face was transfigured, how it shone and his clothes became dazzling white. But, that mountaintop experience seemed far far away. What does it mean? I simply said, "Please come back next month. I hope to see you again."

On Monday evening, I led the Living Through Loss session about Seasons of Change. . . "for everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven."

I spoke about the value of each season, God’s purpose in all the seasons. They listened.

Two women were there together. One had lost two young sons, the other woman had lost one son in the same car accident, which they survived. One woman said, "I was mad at God for awhile. And now I just want to understand ‘why?’ If only I could understand God’s purpose, then I’d be okay. But, I don’t understand. Why three young children had to die before they really lived? What does it mean?"

I didn’t say anything about the transfiguration. I said, "I don’t know. But the answer will come someday."

What does it mean? It’s a fair question for understanding Biblical texts, and helps us grow in faith.

But, I think there is a danger in giving the idea that we can always understand God’s word fully. I think preachers do a disservice when we reduce every text to three basic points and tie up all the loose ends in one neat package to be presented on Sunday morning. In so doing, we suggest that every text can be explained and that God’s actions can be defended and God’s ways can always be understood. Then what do we do when life happens? What do we do when life comes out of nowhere, from where we’d rather not be, again and again? If we claim to understand God’s ways perfectly, then we make it harder on ourselves, expecting that our lives will read just like the book and it will always make sense to us.

But it doesn’t. Why do some hurt? Why are some hungry? Why are some lost? Why are some grieving? Why? The truth is: God only knows.

There is mystery to God. God is always beyond our complete understanding. We can’t know all about God. We can’t see what God sees. We can’t know what God knows. We can’t reduce God to our formula of how things should be done. Then God wouldn’t be God.

What does the transfiguration mean?

My answer is: God only knows. This text is a mystery. It means different things to different people at different times. We don’t know how Jesus was filled with light. Just like, we don’t know why sometimes all we see is darkness. We don’t know how God spoke from a cloud. Just like we don’t know why God doesn’t speak to us today.

We don’t know what it all means. And that’s okay.

When we leave room for the mystery of God, we leave room for life and all its blessings and challenges, all its lessons and all its seasons. We leave room for God to be at work on the mountaintop, but also here below where most of us live—growing faith among us, feeding us, comforting us, healing us, saving us. We leave room for God to be God, whom we know in Jesus Christ to be of mercy and grace, love and peace, goodness and faithfulness.

By this past Thursday, a week after this journey had begun, I thought my sermon was at last done, and even gave it a new title: "God Only Knows." But, I had more to learn.

I met with a woman who had not had an easy life. She had known great pain and sorrow, and she knew not why. She was a good person, a faithful person, but still had had more than her fair share of challenges. But she never wondered where God was, because she knew. She shared a powerful image with me. She said, "When I am overwhelmed with life, I picture God’s hands coming down from the clouds and opening up to me. All of my questions, all of my anger, all of my worries, all of my tears, I put them all into God’s hands and then I let go of them." That’s the key. Letting go, trusting that God is holding them, changing them, even transfiguring them, bringing good from them, and looking for a way to give them back to us as blessing.

What does it mean? What does it all mean?

I don’t know. But, God does. And someday, we trust, we will too.

Until then, we confess: Great is the mystery of faith.

Thanks be to God.