Words from a song play first:     Jesus began to tell his friends that he was going down to Jerusalem. He said the Son of Man must suffer grievously. He will be rejected and be put to death and on the third day he will rise. Then he said to all of them, this is how you shall be my followers. 

[Peter’s monologue]
Listen to him. Listen to him. This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him. That’s what the three of us, myself Peter, and James and John heard from the cloud that day we followed Jesus up that high mountain. It scared the living daylights out of us. We fell flat on our faces. I mean all I was saying to Jesus was that I thought it would be a great honour to Jesus, and Moses, and Elijah to make three sacred places up on that mountain, one for each of them. I mean what we had just seen was indescribable really. I don’t know how to put what we saw into words. There are no words. Dazzling and flashing brilliance shining from Jesus’ face and his clothes were a dazzling white like no white I have ever seen. The three of us were shocked with the brilliance! It was truly amazing! I was so grateful and honoured to be one who saw that vision with my own eyes. Setting this place aside as sacred ground just made such good sense to me.  But then when I was still explaining the three tents to Jesus all of a sudden a bright cloud covered us. And then there was that voice, that voice like no other voice I have ever heard. That voice from heaven that said, This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him. And then when we were laying there face on the ground, I felt Jesus touched me and he told us three to get up, there was nothing to be afraid of. I’ll never, ever forget that touch. That touch will be with me through my dying day. Then when we were coming down that mountain Jesus told us not to say a word about any of this until he had risen. And now I am here today on February 3, 2008 telling you all of this because yes, Jesus has risen. [end of monologue].

The text was a strangely quiet guest this week. I invited it into my house as a guest on Monday and for days it hardly said anything. I thought maybe the mountain was in the way. With us living on the bald prairie where the hills go down not up I thought it might be too hard to imagine following Jesus up a mountain. So I thought of three farmers or three teachers following Jesus to the grain fields, to the cow barns, to farm yards, to classrooms, to lakes, to the biggest tree in Manitoba. I looked underneath the scripture passage and in front of it. I even gave it a kick once or twice, yelling at it: “What do you want me to tell the people this Sunday!#@! But it remained quiet. Then on Friday I realized that it wasn’t speaking because it was doing something. It was pointing to the text immediately previous to today’s reading. I realized that today’s text had come from somewhere and needed to be connected with the previous text. Just before today’s reading, Jesus had just begun to tell his disciples how the Messiah must suffer. That’s when Peter (you gotta love Peter, the Gilligan of the gospels, he tries so hard and always ends up messing something up) tells Jesus that there’s no way that his Messiah is going to suffer death. Do you remember what Jesus says to him? “Get behind be Satan.” Those three following Jesus up the mountain where they would witness Jesus in his glory, were carrying thoughts of Jesus suffering and dying. Glory and suffering was all tangled up, up there on that mountain.

And so I am called here to bring a word from God to you about a Messiah who suffers and all I want to do is to drive back to Winnipeg and stay home. There’s a huge collision today between the biblical text and our world. How can I talk of suffering and glory (and everything in between) without glorifying suffering? The job of Messiah has already been taken. I don’t think we are called to climb onto the cross with Jesus. Yet I wonder. What can I say about suffering and glory?

I will say something and I hope God can use at least some of it. What if suffering and glory and all that exists in between is thought of as a Friday, Saturday, and Sunday 3-chord progression. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday play like chords and none of the chords can be separated from the others. All three chords move in a dynamic dance. All three are present in every moment of our Christian discipleship. That is important to remember.

Friday
Our despair about the tragedy around us draws us in to Good Friday where there is hardship and terrible meaninglessness. Two beautiful babies died this past week in Saskatchewan from exposure to the cold. Two forgotten babies who hardly lived. Friday holds our grief, shock, horror and loss.

Saturday
After the horror time moves on. If you’ve ever lost a loved one you know how insulting it is for time to keep going when your world has stopped. Shoppers keep on shopping for deals while you wait for the burden of grief to be lifted. Friends still stay away while you hope and pray that someone will phone you and ask you out for coffee. Your heart aches for things to change. God appears nowhere in sight. There is just waiting while the traffic on the street passes by.

Sunday
And then something happens often when we least expect it. We discover that our despair is not the last word but the first stepping stone onto something new. The world that we thought was ending starts to begin again. The fear that there was no way out of the trouble changes into faith that opens up incredible possibilities. Another child is born. A friend visits. The cancer is overcome with faith. The addict sees beyond the next drink.

This 3-chord progression, the terror of Friday, the long aching wait of Saturday for something to change, and the shocking surprise of Sunday is the suffering and glory and everything in between. Remember none of the parts can be separated. Each one of them is alive and actively playing out in every moment of our Christian discipleship.

The message for us from the high holy mountain is, Listen to him. In times when the horror and pain of Friday take over our lives listen to him say words of forgiveness and mercy on that other hill of agony when he says, “Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”  When our deep ache of Saturday waiting sets in and never appears to leave listen to him in the voices of our children, our neighbors, our friends and yes, even our enemies. Listen to him say, “Come unto me all you who are weary and I will give you rest.” When your friend never phones, listen to what he says as he washes the feet of his own friends “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.” When you discover on a Saturday that the cure you’ve been waiting for is beyond your powers listen to him speak words of healing balm.  Listen to him weep on a Friday for forgotten children. Listen to him on a Sunday speak words of new life and shocking new possibilities. Listen to him on Friday, Saturday and Sunday speak words of glory and suffering at this Table of tears and this Table of joy where he makes room for strangers and where he too takes a place as a stranger. Listen to him pardon, feed and bless all of humanity. Listen to him say “This is my body broken for you. Do this in remembrance of me” Listen to him talk about suffering and glory….. Listen ….and live.