I speak to you in the name of the God who loves us, Creator Redeemer and Giver of Life. Amen.
Today marks a turning point in our Christian calendar, for today is the last Sunday after the Epiphany and therefore the last Sunday before we transition into Lent with Ash Wednesday, that 40-day season of preparation leading up to Easter. But, if it's the last Sunday after the Epiphany, it typically means that we will hear some version of the gospel story that we have heard read today from Luke that's become known as “The Transfiguration.”
“The Transfiguration” is a mountaintop moment that Jesus shares with an inner circle of his disciples, Peter and the brothers James and John. Luke tells us that Jesus takes them up that mountain to pray and, as he is praying, he is transfigured before them. His face changes and his clothes become dazzling white. Peter, James and John hear the voice of God affirming Jesus for who he really is. It's a mystical moment that any believer would want to have. Peter (bless his heart) fumbles about trying to create three Dwelling Places, that they might stay on that mountaintop forever.
But of course as the text tells us, they ultimately have to come back down that mountain into the valley. They have to go back down into the valley to continue Jesus' ministry amongst the poorest of the poor—those who are suffering, the meek, those crying out for mercy. Jesus and the three disciples have to go back down the mountain to continue Jesus' march toward Jerusalem and toward that moment on another hilltop, a very different moment, when Jesus is crucified on Calvary.
So my friends for us, the season of Lent is bookended by two very different mountaintop moments—the glory of this Transfiguration moment and the suffering and agony upon Calvary. The season of Lent comes along to remind us that, like it or not, these two mountaintop moments are intertwined. The glory of the Transfiguration is inextricably linked with the suffering and agony of the cross, that leads us on to Easter, the pinnacle of our faith, to the celebration of resurrection, and to the promise of eternal life.
I don't know about you but it sure seems like the world in which we live doesn't want to deal with that kind of interconnection. For the world in which we live tempts us in one way or another to remain numb, to turn away from thoughts of our own mortality, our own fragility, to the suffering and needs of our world. In one way or another, the world in which we live tempts us to be numb to these things. Whether it's a diet and exercise routine or skin care routine with anti-aging creams or whether it's our digital devices or stuff, or things, or belongings, that we can turn to like pacifiers. We are tempted in one way or another to remain numb, to remain asleep, to turn away from the realities in our own life and the realities of our world. We can be tempted to fall asleep.
Which brings me to an important detail in our gospel reading today, that I would direct our attention to. We are told interestingly enough, surprisingly enough, that the disciples are weighed down with sleep when they are up on that mountain top. Now step back and think about that for a moment. Jesus takes them up this mountain to pray and, when they get to the mountaintop, Jesus is transfigured before them. They see Jesus in his glory and yet they can barely stay awake. This is not the only time the disciples have a hard time staying awake. If we read on in the gospels what a human detail that is. They're weighed down with sleep but Luke's gospel tells us that because they stay awake—because they stay awake—they see a glimpse of God's glory. Despite the failings that we hear about at the end of the gospel reading, perhaps they are, in the long run, better equipped to go back down into the valley and continue to follow after Jesus.
I would encourage us, friends, as we put away our alleluias, as we conclude this season of epiphany and transition into lent, to pay attention to this detail in our gospel reading. Today we might consider the life of prayer, a life that we are commended to at all times but certainly in the season of Lent. For prayer is not so much about trying to get what we want, although intercession is certainly a part of it. Prayer is ultimately, as so many of the great religious traditions try to teach us, is about cultivating the capacity to stay awake, to remain truly present to the only gift that God really has to give us—the present moment. That's all that we're really promised. You know, we can get so caught up, can't we, in things that have already happened or things that we're concerned about that have yet to happen, that we can fall asleep and miss what is right in front of us. Prayer ultimately is about cultivating the capacity in small regular ways to be better able to stay awake, to stay aware to God and neighbor.
You know there's a word that I believe has been overly complicated and has become overly controversial, and that is “stay woke”. “Stay woke.” It's a word that, from my research, dates back to the 1930s at least, if not earlier, pertaining to the importance of staying aware of social and political realities related to African Americans. But I might argue, friends, that there is a Biblical antecedent to that invitation, to that command, that comes from Jesus himself, that calls us, that invites us, that commands us, again and again to stay awake, to stay awake, to stay awake to the presence of God right in front of us and to God's presence in our neighbor. All of our neighbors really but especially those Jesus spends his time with—the poorest of the poor, those who are suffering, those who are crying out for mercy. Whether those neighbors be down the street in another part of our city or country or whether they be fellow citizens of the world in which we live, whether they be Haitians, Congolese, Gazins, or Ukrainians. We are called friends to stay awake.
So as we move into this Lenton season, a season that is all about remembering who we are and whose we are as God's beloved people in this world, let us strive to prayerfully find ways to be present, to not turn away, to stay awake to God's loving presence in our midst and to the cries of our neighbors—so that we might see glimpses of God's glory and be better equipped to do God's work in the world for love's sake and for the sake of the world that God has made and loves, loves, loves so very much. Amen.
© 2026 Adam J Shoemaker
image credit stock photo from Microsoft Office.