The Feast of the Transfiguration is August 6th of each year. The Transfiguration is also celebrated each year on the Last Sunday After the Epiphany as the culmination of a series of events in which Jesus is manifested as the Anointed One, the Messiah, the Son of God. And that is fitting, for it is indeed an epiphany, a manifestation or showing forth of God in Christ. It is, perhaps, the most vivid such manifestation in the Gospels, at least prior to the Resurrection.


Indeed, it seems to be a prefiguration, or a foretaste, of the resurrection appearances, and even a foretaste of the more direct vision of God that we hope to enjoy for all eternity when, as St. Paul tells us, we shall see him not as through a glass, darkly, but face to face. It must have been quite an experience for Peter, James, and John; one that they would never forget. In fact, Peter refers to it in the passage we read in today's Epistle. Very likely it's a story Peter often told to the early Christians. It was really something to see Jesus talking with those long-dead heroes of the faith, Moses and Elijah. Did you ever stop to wonder how they knew it was Moses and Elijah? How could they have known, except that God must have inspired them with this knowledge.


But then, seeing Moses and Elijah wouldn't have been half as awesome as seeing the transfigured Jesus Christ – someone they knew well, with whom they had traveled and shared meals and conversed day after day. No wonder we are told that Peter didn't know what he was saying! And then a cloud came and overshadowed them, and they heard the voice of God: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”


Well! There couldn't have been a clearer manifestation, a clearer statement from God of just who Jesus was. “This is my Son, the Beloved.” Just in case they hadn't understood this before, God makes it perfectly clear. Let's focus now on what God said next: “Listen to him!” Our NRSV translation has an exclamation point after that sentence – as well it should. These three words could form the basis for numerous sermons and countless meditations. Listen to him. We can't go wrong if we just listen to Jesus. We would do well to make these words our focus: “Listen to him!” How do we do that? Does Jesus still speak to us? When and where does Jesus speak to us? There are probably a lot of answers to that question, but here are just a few.


Jesus speaks to us in the words of Holy Scripture, and especially in the words of the four Gospels, which tell us about his life and teachings. Spending a little time each day with our Bibles – reading, praying, and thinking about what Jesus is saying to us in these words – will certainly contribute a great deal toward our ability to “listen to him,” to hear his voice. We are fortunate to belong to a Christian tradition that encourages us to search the Scriptures for meaning and that embraces the possibility that there may be many different meanings for a passage from the Bible. We should take advantage of that freedom and open ourselves to the possibility of transfiguration. Jesus also speaks to us through other people. Our


Christian friends have much to say that can inspire us. That’s why we study in groups and worship in groups and often carry out our ministries in groups. Jesus also calls to us through people who are in need. He said, “Whatever you do for the least of these my brothers and sisters, you do unto me.” He also says whatever we don’t do for them, we don’t do for him. We can help in many ways but God sends people into our lives each day. The child in the detention center, the woman who was abused as a child, the veteran struggling with PTSD, those who rely on 4Saints & Friends Food Pantry, families whose hearts are made glad by Laundry Love, those suffering from leprosy who are cared for and fed because of Hopewallah. The “least of these” might be one who says, “I was down in the dumps and you smiled at me?” I had the privilege of serving as Interim Rector at St. John’s Church in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. St. John’s Church owns about an acre of land in Grand Teton National Park and on it sits The Chapel of the Transfiguration.


Gay was commissioned to write an icon to be displayed on the wall of the chapel. She had several patterns she was considering. I took the examples with me to the weekday Eucharist on day and asked Lou, one of our regular attendees at that service, which one she liked best. She looked at them and pointed to one with some enthusiasm. “That one!” she said. “What is it about that one?” I asked. She said, “In that one, Jesus and the disciples are not only ascending the mountain, they are also coming down.” I told Gay and that is the pattern she used.


You see, Lou’s husband was a mountain climber. He ascended Mt. Everist with Jim Whitaker. But he didn’t come down. He lost his life there. For Lou, it was very personal and very important to remember that Jesus, Peter, James, and John came down, came back, continued on their journey. Jesus spoke to Gay and me through Lou! And here's one more way that we might hear Jesus speaking to us: in the silence.


Do you remember the story of Elijah waiting for God in the cave? “Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.” What kind of a sound does sheer silence make? I think we all remember an earlier translation that said: “a still small voice.”


We know what that sounds like, don't we? And perhaps it is the same thing, because it is all too easy to drown out that still small voice with wind and earthquake and fire and the like. Maybe we need to tune out and turn off before we can begin to listen. Turn off the TV for a while, sign off on the Internet, and, most of all, tune out the internal noise that is the hardest of all to still. 


To put it bluntly, we need to shut up once in a while, even in our prayers. The kind of prayer where we talk to God and tell him about our life and how it is going and the things we are worried about and so forth, is good, but there comes a time when we need to stop even doing that, and just listen. Is it possible to sit still and listen for five minutes? Then do that.


Then maybe you can go for10 or 15 or even 20 minutes. If the internal noise starts up again, bring yourself back to the silence with some small word like “Listen” or just “Jesus.” What sound will you hear in the silence? When our ears are opened to listen for the divine voice, what we hear may be an epiphany we ne.


The Holy Spirit is actively at work in the world, our SaviorJesus Christ is with us every moment, until the end of the ages, just as he promised he would be. We must simply take the time to listen, and to look for the one who is the light of the world, the one whose light we shall one day see face to face. As St. Peter tells us in today's reading: “You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.” Amen

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By Paula Jefferson January 25, 2026
By Paula Jefferson January 19, 2026
By Paula Jefferson January 5, 2026
By Paula Jefferson December 25, 2025
December 22, 2025
By Paula Jefferson December 8, 2025
By Tanya Eiserer November 23, 2025
We all look for something to steer for us. My mom often said, “Be careful what you wish for”. She never explained what it meant…she didn’t have to. Often, when we wish for something, there are unintended consequences. I’m an early-adapter with all things technology. When self-driving cars became a thing, it was at the top of my wish list. And then one night, my car downloaded a software update that allowed me to try fully self-driving mode for thirty days. Free. They were speaking my language. Much of the time, that software worked beautifully. But one night I was driving home from the church…through the Fort Worth mix-master. At the best of times, the mix-master is a test of faith. That night, I realized…a little too late…that my car didn’t “see” vehicles merging from my right at highway speeds. A car darted in front of me at 55mph. My car panicked. It slammed on the brakes, forcing everyone behind me to do the same. Tires were squealing and I may have said a few choice words. Then a calm robotic voice came through my speaker: “What just happened?” Without thinking, I answered, “We’re all going to need clean clothes!”—a reminder that trusting the wrong kind of power can create more chaos than good. Three thousand years ago, the Israelites faced a similar challenge. They had judges—and they had Yahweh—but they were not satisfied. The nations around them had kings and queens…and Israel longed for a visible symbol of power: a government that looked strong and invincible to their neighbors. “Give us a king,” they said, “like other nations.” [1] Samuel warned them: “…in that day you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves; but the Lord will not answer you in that day” [2] Be careful what you wish for. God’s warning is clear: the king you want will take more from you than he gives. And history shows it. Saul and David and their successors ruled. But, human power systems fail…they always have…we are no strangers to that in our own time. After Solomon, the kingdom split into the northern kingdom of Israel and the southern kingdom of Judah. Leaders often sought their own gain instead of tending to the people, especially the most vulnerable. By Jeremiah’s time, Judah itself teetered on collapse. Yet God speaks through the prophet, offering hope, promise, and vision of restoration. “I will gather the remnant of my flock…I will raise up shepherds over them who will shepherd them, and they shall not fear any longer. The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign wisely and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.” [3] Jeremiah is speaking God’s words here—a promise of a king unlike any human ruler. Not a king who exploits or coerces, but a shepherd who tends the scattered, who watches over the vulnerable, and who leads with justice and care. Luke shows us that shepherd in the most unexpected place: on a cross. Even there, Christ gathers the lost and welcomes the outsider—the very people no one expects to matter. Colossians describes the cosmic dimension of this shepherd—the One who reigns over all creation and reconciles all things through love. This shepherd’s kingdom is not defined by force—but by mercy; not by fear—but by reconciliation; not by scarcity—but by eternal gift. And here is the Advent connection: the King we await is already among us—reigning in ways that the world does not expect—and has never expected. Christ’s reign is not deferred to the end times. It is now. For those who long for a dramatic return of Jesus…scrutinizing hidden messages and timetables…be careful what you wish for. Christ’s reign is not waiting on a cosmic clock. It is already present, entrusted to us --the mystical Body of Christ-- in this world, in this moment. And that realization is sobering. Because if Christ reigns through mercy, reconciliation, and self-giving love, then we—his Body—are called to reign in that way too. In our families, we are called to speak truth in love and care for one another. In our workplaces and communities, we are called to act justly, to lift up the vulnerable, to speak for those without voice, and to forgive the one who has wronged us. In the simple moments of everyday life—offering a kind word, feeding the hungry, welcoming the outsider—we participate in the Shepherd’s reign. Advent invites us to practice that reign, to trust that heart, to embody God’s kingdom in the everyday moments of our lives. We all look for something to steer for us. Christ the King reminds us: the safest driver is not me…or a throne…or even a Tesla. The only true driver is God. In Advent, we learn to let go, trust God, and follow, even when the road ahead is uncertain. Thanks be to God. [1] 1 Samuel 8:5 [2] 1 Samuel 8:10-18 [3] Jeremiah 23:3-5
By Paula Jefferson November 2, 2025
It has only been a few months since we last heard this particular Gospel reading. While I was driving up and down Highway 35 last week, I thought about how we might approach the text differently…especially on All Saints Sunday. This is the day we remember all the faithful people who have gone before us…ordinary and extraordinary folks who lived lives of love, mercy, courage and hope. I began with questions: Who is a saint? Who is not a saint? The second question is much easier to answer. We can all think of people throughout history who would definitely not fit any definition of sainthood. But the other question is harder. It brought to mind a character who wears a red suit, big white beard, moves around in a sleigh pulled by reindeer. Santa Claus is an icon of generosity. But is that the fullness of a saintly life? We often admire people for what shines outwardly: strength, beauty, power, fame, athleticism, traveling the globe on Christmas Eve delivering millions of gifts…because that stuff is easy to see and easy to glorify. But Luke is reminding us that true blessedness looks very different…it is found in the poor, the hungry, those who mourn. Blessed are those who are rejected or marginalized because they embody love…feeding the hungry, forgiving enemies, speaking truth to power. Paraphrasing Jesus: Blessed are you who are living in such a way that your life looks like mine. So what are the signs of a Christ-shaped--or saintly--life? To answer that, I drew from Jesus’s sermon on the Plain and a few well-known saints. 1. Humility —Jesus said, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.” Richard Foster devoted his life to guiding Christians into deeper spiritual formation. He described humility as the freedom to see ourselves truthfully, to rely fully on God, and to serve others without seeking recognition. [1] Humility reflects the blessedness of those who recognize their dependence on God. 2. Courage —Jesus said, “But I say to you who hear: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer devoted his life to following Christ faithfully in a world that was in moral and political crisis. He said that moral courage is nurtured in the context of faithful Christian community. Courage is faithfully doing what is right, trusting God’s guidance, even when it costs us. [2] His moral courage exemplifies living faithfully in the face of evil. 3. Joy —Jesus said, “Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied…Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.” Henri Nouwen devoted his life to helping others encounter God’s love through prayer, presence, and compassionate service…especially alongside the most vulnerable among us. He said that joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day. It is a choice based in the knowledge that we belong to God and have found in God our refuge and our safety and that nothing, not even death, can take God away from us. [3] 4. Love and mercy in action — Jesus said, “Do to others as you would have them do to you.” Mother Teresa devoted her life to making Christ’s love tangible through service to the poorest, sickest, and most marginalized people in the world. For her, love was not an abstract idea—it was what you do with your hands and heart every day. She incarnated mercy in action, making tangible the call to bless and serve others. 5. Faithfulness in difficulty —Jesus said, “Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man.” Martin Luther King, Jr. devoted his life to pursuing justice and equality through nonviolence and love rooted in faith and moral conviction. He said, “The ultimate measure of a [person] is not where they stand in moments of comfort and convenience, but where they stand at times of challenge and controversy.” [4] His nonviolent witness and moral perseverance reflect Jesus’ promise of blessing for those who are persecuted and remain steadfast in their faith. There’s something of a paradox here that drew my attention. Each of these Christ-shaped lives emerged in response to real suffering, injustice or need. If Christianity had not moved through a period of superficial evangelism in the 20 th Century, we would not know Richard Foster. Without Adolf Hitler and the evil that surrounded him, we would not know Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s name. He would be a little-known academician teaching systematic theology. Without societies that toss aside people with disabilities, Henri Nouwen would have been a Roman Catholic priest none of us knew. Without human class systems that devalue whole groups of people, Mother Teresa would not be a household name. Without systemic racism, Martin Luther King, Jr. would have been a Baptist preacher in an Atlanta Church. We would not know his name. Each of these people responded to the wounds and injustices they saw in their own time in their own backyard. They took up the cross of love and carried it just a little farther. And I wonder if that quality is the benchmark of sainthood? As I look around this congregation, I see 100 saints: people who walk into classrooms every day, prepared to teach growing minds; people who walk with friends going through difficulties like loss of memory; people who feed the hungry: with meals on wheels, Union Gospel Mission, food pantries in Fort worth, and in leper colonies far away; people who make bed rolls for the homeless; Sunday School teachers who faithfully prepare to help children, youth, and adults grow in faith. People who extend hospitality to us and to St. Matthew’s and to families who gather here to celebrate the lives of their saints. Friends, we live in a very challenging era of American life. Everywhere we look, we see signs of division, misunderstanding, and an inability to work together for the common good. It is, I think, a reflection of a deep dysfunction in our culture….an incapacity to listen well, to negotiate in good faith, and to compromise for the sake of the whole. In times like this, the calling of the Church is extraordinary. We are called to embody the values of God’s reign: faithfulness, humility, courage, joy, and love---showing the world what it means to live differently, even when society struggles to do so. We, too, must take up the cross of love in our own lives, carrying it just a little farther each day. And as we do, we join the great communion of saints who have walked before us, who have borne witness to God’s love in times of trial, and who now cheer us on as we continue the journey. [1] Richard J Foster; Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth [2] Dietrich Bonhoeffer; Life Together [3] Henri Nouwen; Spirituality & Practice [4] Martin Luther King, Jr; Strength to Love 1963
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