Unveiled

2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2
Transfiguration of the Lord

Are you attractive?  Don’t overthink it; there isn’t a wrong answer.  Do you think you’re attractive?  I know it’s an awkward question, that’s why I ask it.  Maybe it’s just me, but it seems like most people, even if they are attractive, would be reluctant to admit to it.  The list of people who find me attractive grows smaller every day, but even I know I’m not hideous.  But having said that, I would probably qualify my answer: “I’m attractive… for a man of my age.  I’m attractive, as pastors go.”  It’s hard for us sometimes to see ourselves in a positive light; even when there are positives to see.  

It was suggested to me recently that, if I can think of myself as attractive, I will present myself in the world in a more-attractive way.  That makes sense, I guess; but it’s the “convincing myself that I’m attractive” part that seems to be the big hurdle.  

Now, I’m not just fishing for compliments here.  There are other ways that we may not always see ourselves in our “proper light” (if you will); ways in which we downplay or even hide the glory we’ve been given.  On this day that celebrates the Transfiguration of the Lord, we also gather around his Table; we gather here and remember that, by his work and by his spirit, we are now created to be the very Body of Christ.  That is, if we let it be, a pretty attractive light.  Are we ready, are we willing, to let that glory shine in this world?  

To experience God is to be changed.  All you need to do is open your Bibles to figure that out; it’s repeated over and over again.  Certainly, we’ve seen examples of this in Scripture this past season.  We watched on Epiphany, as the magical visitors experienced the presence of the Savior, and went home praising God.  We met another magician named Simon who tried to buy the power of the Holy Spirit, only to be transformed by that same Spirit and find something better: repentance.  There were those who tasted the water that had become “good wine” at a wedding in Cana; receiving the “good stuff” from Jesus may not be the biggest change, but we’ll take it.  We heard about the Israelites returning to the Word of God with Ezra and Nehemiah; and finding that God is more about joyful celebration than shame and sorrow.  We learned about the experience of God that transforms us into love itself.  We saw the crowds press in on Jesus to hear him teach and to find belief.  His followers heard him and found hope as he declared, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.”  We watched them as they wrestled when he taught them to love their enemies and to “Do to others as you would have them do to you.”

Everyone gets changed: some are merely amazed, others become angry, multitudes find hope, and a handful left everything and followed him.  Everyone gets changed.  How could they not be?  How could we not be changed when we experience the Living Incarnate God?  

This shouldn’t surprise us: our relationships, with God or with one another always change us.  One can’t just un-know the things we’ve seen and experienced; whether we like it or not.  In our experiences, we gain knowledge, and knowledge unfortunately refuses to let us remain the same.


We are changed by our everyday interactions with others—how could we not be; especially what that interaction is with God Almighty? Who can see God and not be forever changed?

In our Scripture reading today, Paul alludes to a somewhat-obscure Old Testament story involving the prophet Moses.  Like a lot of Bible stories, the longer version has its highs and lows: this one is about the people of Israel journeying through the desert.  It turns out that, just like the rest of us, the people of Israel tended to be their own worst enemy—setting up unnecessary obstacles for themselves and allowing themselves to be distracted by their own idols.

In the part that Paul refers to, the people had been led out of bondage, but they still needed direction.  Not just directions of how to get to the Promised Land, but also direction about how to live as God’s people.

These directions were given to Moses on the top of Mount Sinai.  Moses went up to receive instruction and to see God, and the people camped at the bottom.  But when he came down from the Mountain, he didn’t realize that his interaction with God had changed him.  He came down the mountain, not only with tablets containing the Ten Commandments, but with a certain glow (if you will)—a result of being present with God.  It seems like it was one of those “spinach in your teeth moments.”  You know that moment, right?  You walk into a room and you can’t figure out why everyone is looking at you funny.  Then some kind soul says, “Hey, you got a little something here.”  

Moses came into contact with God and, of course, he was changed. How could he not be?  So as to not upset the people, Moses began to wear a veil over his face when he talked to them.  Note that subtle distinction: that Moses was not only changed in a personal way by his encounter with God, but it was such a life-altering event that it also changed the ways that he interacted and communicated with others.  So, this life-changing experience was not an isolated, personal, religious experience, but a very public thing that changed the life of Moses.

Over a thousand years later, the Apostle Paul, writing to the Church in Corinth, compared the transformation of Moses to the conversion of one’s mind when one comes to faith in God in Jesus.  He writes, “And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.” Paul, whose life had been drastically changed by his own encounter with God, could speak from firsthand experience.  To see God is to be changed.  

But here’s the thing: there’s a purpose in that change.  God’s changes in us allow God to make changes through us.  To see God is to be changed, even when God is seen in us.  Through our relationship with our Risen Savior, we are not the same; and we are called to bear that same glory in our relationships with others.  

I’m sure I’ve told you this before, but I used to be Chuck E. Cheese.  You know what that is, right?  It’s a kid-centered pizza restaurant, but the pizza is by far not their best thing.  Their main thing is video games, and ball pits, and singing animatronic animals, and things like that.  Anyway, I didn’t just work at Chuck E. Cheese’s, I was Chuck E. Cheese.  I got paid to put on a giant rat costume, give hugs to children, play the occasional game of ski-ball, and to play peek-a-boo with toddlers.  

It was an unusual job, but most people, when they hear about it, can see it.  People who know me well can easily imagine me dressing up in an animal costume and being silly.  

But the thing is: that wasn’t who I was as a teen-ager.  When I was young I was painfully shy and very insecure.  But something happened when I put on the rat-suit (as we called it): I was able to embody something different.  As you might imagine, behind the rat-mask, I could find a boldness that I didn’t have before.  It allowed me to embody something else in me, and as it turned out, it made me into a pretty good Chuck E. Cheese.  But more importantly, I think, it gave me a confidence to be a better me as well.  

Paul’s words to us this morning encourage us, not to pretend to be someone we’re not, but to live boldly as people who have experienced the Risen Jesus.  Paul reminds us, this Transfiguration Sunday, that we are meant to shine.  We are meant to shine out God’s glory in all that we are.  We are meant to be transformed, so that God might transform the world through us as well.