<u>God in Sore Straits.</u>
The darkest hour save only one has now come in Jesus' life. And that one
which was actually darkest, in every way, from every view-point darkest,
had in it some gleams of light that are not here. Jesus is now a fugitive
from the province of Judea. The death plot has been settled upon. There's
a ban in Jerusalem on His followers. Already one man has been cut off from
synagogue privileges, and become a religious and social outcast. The
southerners are pushing the fight against Jesus up into Galilee.
Four distinct times that significant danger word "withdrew" has been used
in describing Jesus' departure from where the Judean leaders had come.
First from Judea to Galilee, then from Galilee to distant foreign points
He had gone, for a time, till the air would cool a bit. The bold return to
Jerusalem at the fall Feast of Tabernacles had been attended, first by an
official attempt to arrest, and then by a passionate attempt to stone
Jesus to death.
And now the Galilean followers begin to question, and to leave. His
enemies' northern campaign, together with His own plain teaching, has
affected the Galilean crowds. They come in as great numbers as ever to
hear and to be healed. But many that had allied themselves as Jesus'
followers decide that He is not the leader they want. He is quite too
unpractical. The kingdom that the Galileans are eager for, that the Roman
yoke may be shaken off, seems very unlikely to come under such a leader.
Many desert Him.
Jesus felt the situation keenly. The kingdom plan in Jerusalem had failed.
And now the winning of individuals as a step in another plan is slipping
its hold. These people are glad of bread and the easing of bodily
distress, but the tests of discipleship they pull away from. He turns to
the little band of His own choosing, with a question that reveals the keen
disappointment of His heart. There's a tender yearning in that question,
"Will ye also go away?" And Peter's instant, loyal answer does not blind
His keen eyes to the extremity. With sad voice He says, "One of you, my
own chosen friends, one of you is a--devil." Things are in bad shape, and
getting worse.
It was a time of dire extremity. God was in sore straits. The kingdom plan
was clearly gone for the present. The rub was to save enough out of the
wreckage to get a sure starting-point for the new plan, through which, by
and by, the other original plan would work out. There can be no stronger
evidence of God's need of men than this transfiguration scene. Just
because He had made man a sovereign in his will, God must work out all of
His plans _through_ that sovereign will. He would not lower one whit His
ambition for a man free in his own will. He Himself would do nothing to
mar the divine image in man. For man's sake, and _through_ man's
will--that is ever God's law of dealing.
<u>Fire and Anvil for Leaders.</u>
The great need just now was not simply for men who would be loving and
loyal, but men who would be _leaders_. It has ever been the sorest need.
Men are not so scarce, true-hearted men, willing to endure sacrifice, but
_leaders_ have always been few, and are. Nothing seems to be less
understood than leadership; and nothing so quickly recognized when the
real thing appears. Peter _was_ a leader among these men. He had dash and
push. He was full of impulse. He was always proposing something. He acted
as spokesman. He blurted out whatever came. The others followed his lead.
There were the crude elements of leadership here. But not true leadership
of the finer, higher kind.
The whole purpose of the transfiguration was to get and tie up leaders. It
was an emergency measure, out of the regular run of things. Goodness makes
character. It takes goodness plus ability to make true leadership. The
heart can make a loving follower. It takes a heart, warm and true, plus
_brains_ to make a leader. Character is the essential for life. For true
leadership, there needs to be character plus ability: the ability to keep
the broad sweep of things, and not be lost in details, nor yet to lose
sight of details; to discern motive and drifts; to sift through the
incidentals which may be spectacular and get to the essential which may be
in Quaker garb.
There are two sorts of leadership, of action, and of thought. By
comparison with the other, leaders of action are many, leaders of thought
few. Peter was the leader in action of the disciples, and in the earlier
church days. John became the leader in thought of the later years of the
early church. Paul was both, a very unusual combination. Leaders are born,
it is true. But the finest and truest and highest leaders must be both
born leaders, and then born again as leaders. There needs to be the
original stuff, and then that stuff hammered into shape under hard blows
on the anvil of experience. The fire must burn out the clay and dirt, and
then the hammer shape up the metal. Leaders must have convictions driven
in clear through the flesh and bone, and riveted on the other side.
_Simon_ loved Jesus, but there needed to be more before _Peter_ would
arrive. It took the transfiguration to put into the impulsive, unsteady,
wobbling Simon the metal that would later become steel in Peter. Yet it
took much more, and finally the fire of Pentecost, to get the needed
temper into the steel. These same lips could give that splendid statement
that has become the church's foundation; and, a bit later, utter boldly
foolish, improper words to Jesus; and, later yet, utter vulgar profanity,
and words far worse, aye, the worst that could be said about a _friend_,
and in that friend's _need_, too.
This was a fair sample of the clay and iron, the Simon and the Peter in
this man. Yet it was with painful slowness that he had been brought up to
where he is now. Two years of daily contact with Jesus. Slow work! No,
rapid work. Nobody but Jesus could have done it in such a short time.
Nobody but Jesus could have done it at all. And, mark you keenly, this man
is the _leader_ of the band of men that stand closest to Jesus. This is
the setting of the great transfiguration scene.
<u>An Irresistible Plan.</u>
Jesus goes off, away from the crowds, to have a bit of quiet time with
this inner band of His. Here is the strategic point, now. The key to the
future plan is in this small group. If that key can be filed into shape,
cleaned of rust, and gotten to fit and turn in the lock, all may yet be
well. The nub of all future growth is here. With simple, keen tact He
begins His questionings, leading on, until Peter responds with his
splendid declaration for which the church has ever been grateful to him.
"Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God." It comes to Jesus' ears
as a grateful drink of cold water to a thirsty man on a hot day in a
dusty road.
Then to this leader and to the inner circle, He reveals the changed plan.
For the first time the word church is used, that peculiar word which later
becomes the name of the new organization, "a company of persons called
out." He is going to build up a church upon this statement of faith from
Peter's lips, and this church will hold the relation to the kingdom of
key-holder, administrator. The church is to be a part of the
administration of the coming kingdom.
And so Jesus begins His difficult, sad task of preparing this band for the
event six months off in Jerusalem. There is to be a tragedy before the
building of the church which will hold the kingdom keys. So thoroughly
does Peter fail to understand Jesus, that with stupid boldness he attempts
to "rebuke" Him. Peter "took" Jesus. A great sight surely! He slips his
hand in Jesus' arm and takes Him off to one side to--straighten--Him--out.
This Jesus is being swept off His feet by undue emotional enthusiasm.
Peter would fix it up and save the day. It would take Peter to do that.
And this is a sample of the best leadership in this inner group. Things
were in bad shape. All the machinery hung upon a little pin holding two
parts together. That pin threatens to bend and break for lack of temper.
The Son of God leaves all else and turns aside to attend to a pin. The
future of the kingdom hung upon three undisciplined country fishermen.
The transfiguration spells out God's dire extremity in getting a footing
in human hearts _and brains_ for His plans. Something must be done.
Mark what that something was to be: so simple in itself, so tremendous in
its results. They were to be allowed to _see Jesus_. That would be enough.
The Jesus within would look out through the body He was using. The real
Jesus within looked out through the Jesus they knew. He let these men see
Himself a few moments; simply that. All of that, yet simply that. They
were His lovers. They were to be sorely tried by coming events. They were
to be the leaders. To _love_, for a time of _sore need_, for _service's_
sake, for the sake of the _multitudes_ whose _leaders_ they were to be,
for the saving of the _church_ plan, and beyond of the _kingdom_ plan, the
Jesus within looked out for a few moments into their faces.
It was the same plan used later in getting another leader. Jesus had to go
outside these men for a man with qualifications needed by the situation
that these men did not have. The human element again in evidence. Paul
says, "When I could not see for the glory of that light." That light
bothered his eyes. The old ambitions were blurred. He couldn't see them.
The outlines dimmed, the old pedigree and plans faded out. They could no
longer be seen for the glory of that light. It is the plan the Master has
ever used, and still does. It is irresistible.
<u>"The Glory of that Light."</u>
It was six days, or eight counting both ends, after the first telling of
the coming tragedy that shook them so. Here is a bit of practical
psychology. Jesus lets the brain impression made by that strange
announcement _deepen_ before making the next impression. Jesus went up
into the mountain "to pray." Prayer never failed Him. It was equal to
every need with Jesus. It was while praying that the wondrous change came.
Changed while praying. When Moses came down from that long time alone with
God, his face was full of the glory reflected from God's presence.
Stephen's face caught the light of another Face into which he was intently
looking.
Jesus was changed _from within_. It was His own glory that these men saw.
He had wrapped Himself up in a bit of human tapestry so He could move
among men without blinding their eyes. Now He looks out through the
strands. They are astonished and awed to find that face they know so well
now shining as the sun, and the garments made transparent as light,
glistening like snow, by reason of the great brilliance of the light
within. Yet Jesus let out only a part of the glory. When Paul saw, on the
Damascus road, the light was _above_ the shining of the sun.
When their eyes get over the first daze, the disciples come to see that
besides Jesus there are two others, two of the old Hebrew leaders. There
is Moses, the great maker of the nation, the greatest leader of all. And
rugged Elijah, who had boldly stood in the breach and saved the day when
the nation's king was proposing to replace the worship of Jehovah with
demon-worship. They are talking earnestly together, these three,
about--what? The great sacrifices Jesus had been enduring? The
disappointment in the kingdom plan? The suffering and shame to be endured?
The bitter obstinacy of the opposition? The chief priests' plotting?
Listen! They are talking about the departure, the exodus, the going out
and up, Jesus is about to _accomplish_. They are absorbed in Jesus. He was
about to execute a master-stroke. He is going to accomplish a great move.
They are wholly absorbed in Him, this Moses, and Elijah, and in this great
move of His for men.
Meanwhile these men lying on the ground are waking up and rubbing their
eyes. The only jarring note is a human note. John and James look with awe,
reverent awe. It is an insight into their character that nothing is said
about them. Their sense of reverence and power of control are to the
front. It is dear, impulsive old Peter who can't keep still, even amid
such a scene. His impulsive heart is just back of his lips, with no
check-valves between. He must offer a few remarks. This great vision must
be duly recognized. What a sensation it would make in Jerusalem to get
these two men to stay and come down and address a meeting! That would turn
the tide surely. Luke graciously explains that he did not know what he
was saying. No, probably not. The tongue seemed to be going mechanically,
rather than by the controlling touch of the will. Peter seems to have a
large posterity, some of whom abide with us to this day.
Then the vision is shut out by the intervening cloud. This human
interference disturbs the atmosphere. For Peter's sake, the glory is
hidden that the impression of it may not be rubbed out even slightly by
his own speech. We blur and lose the impression God would make upon us, by
our speech, sometimes. A bit of _divine_ practical psychology, this
movement of the cloud. Then the quiet voice that thrilled them with the
message of the Jordan, "This is My Son; My Chosen One: hear ye Him." Then
it is all over.
It is most striking that this wondrous vision of glory is for these three
obscure, untutored men, of lowly station. Not for the nation's leaders.
Yet the reason is plain. They had gladly accepted what light had come. To
them came more. Their door was open. It is these men who had obeyed light
that now received more. To him that hath received what light has come
shall be given more. From him that hath no light, because he won't let it
in, shall be taken away even what light he has. Shut fists will stifle
what is already held, and the life of it oozes out between the fingers.
In each of the three Gospels recording this scene it is introduced by the
same quotation from Jesus' lips. There were some persons in His presence
who would not die until they had seen the kingdom of God. The writers'
reference is clearly to the vision that follows. It is said to be a vision
of the coming kingdom. Jesus, with the divine glory within, no longer
concealed, but shining out with an indescribable splendor, up above the
earth, with two godly men, one of whom had died, and the other had been
caught up from the earth without death, talking earnestly about men and
affairs on the earth, and in direct communication with the Father--that is
the vision here of the kingdom.
<u>A Vision of Jesus.</u>
And so the darkest hour save only one was filled with the brightest light.
The after, darker hour of Calvary had gleams of light from this
transfiguration scene. There was faithful John's sympathetic presence all
through the trial. John never flinched. And Peter had tears that caught
the light from Jesus' eyes, and reflected their glistening rays within.
Those tears of Peter's were a great comfort to Jesus that night and the
next day. The two greatest leaders were sure.
The transfiguration served its purpose fully. The memory of it saved Peter
out of the wreckage of Simon, else Judas' hemp might have had double use
that night. Under the leadership of these men, the little band hold
together during that day, so awful to them in the killing of their leader
and the dashing of all their fondest hopes on which they had staked
everything. Two nights later finds them gathered in a room. Could it have
been the same upper room where they had eaten _with Him_ that
never-to-be-forgotten night, and listened to His comforting words? Only
Thomas does not come. Everybody swings in but one. That shows good work by
these leaders. But another week's work brings him, too, into the meeting
and into the light.
These three men never forgot the sight of that night. John writes his
Gospel under the spell of the transfiguration. "We beheld _His glory"_ he
says at the start, and understands Isaiah's wondrous writings, because he,
too, "_saw His glory."_ The impression made upon Peter deepened steadily
with the years. The first impression of garments glistening beyond any
fuller's skill has grown into an abiding sense of the "_majesty" _ of
Jesus and "_the majestic glory_." I think it wholly likely, too, that this
vision of glory was in James' face, and steadied his steps, as so early in
the history he met Herod's swordsman.
It was _a vision of Jesus_ that turned the tide. There's nothing to be
compared with that. A man's life and service depend wholly on the vision
of Jesus that has come, that is coming. When that comes, instinctively he
finds himself ever after saying, without planning to,
"Since mine eyes were fixed on Jesus,
I've lost sight of all beside.
So enchained my spirit's vision,
Looking at the Crucified."
With the Damascus traveller he will be saying, "When I could not see for
the glory of that light." May we each with face open, uncovered, all
prejudice and self-seeking torn away, behold the glory of Jesus, even
though for the sake of our eyes it come as a reflected glory. Then we
shall become, as were Moses and Stephen, unconscious reflectors of that
glory. And the crowd on the road shall find Jesus in us and want Him.
Then, too, we ourselves shall be changing from glory to glory, by the
inner touch of Jesus' Spirit, as we continue gazing.