My dog, Dursey, is a vizsla. His breed is known as “velcro” dogs because they love to be with their human at all times. They’re prone to separation anxiety when they feel apart from their human. 

 

So, once Dursey was eight weeks old, I began by training him to be separated from me by leaving him in a kennel for 45 minutes -- a blink of an eye to us, but an eternity to a puppy.

 

The kennel had comfortable bedding, toys, water, food -- all the signs that might Dursey know he is loved and his needs will be met. On day one of our training, I latched the kennel and drove to town for groceries. Forty-five minutes later, I was met in the driveway by neighbors, who had sitting inside their homes, listening to Dursey howl, bark and yelp for 45 minutes. Non-Stop.

 

I explained the training regimen and I persisted. A week later, I increased our separation time by 15 minutes. The neighbors who lived closest to me went camping for the weekend. 


Last week, we heard the story of Abraham and his first-born son, Ishmael. This week, we hear the story of the child born to Abraham and Sarah, Isaac.  These two stories are presented back-to-back in Genesis: Chapter 21 and then Chapter 22. They should be read and interpreted together, because they are intentionally parallel stories. 

 

In both stories, God is testing Abraham. 

 

God had entered into a covenant with Abraham and Sarah.  Though Sarah was barren and elderly, Yahweh promised that she would bear a son and Yahweh would bless her son.  But it didn’t happen quickly enough for Sarah…she began to lose confidence that Yahweh would deliver. So, she convinced Abraham to have a child with her servant Hagar. This child was named Ishmael. 

 

The first story, Genesis Chapter 21, is known as the sending of Ishmael. Sarah tells Abraham that he must send Ishmael, still a child, into the desert. Abraham believes Ishmael and his mother Hagar will die in the desert. He was very upset. Abraham loves these people. God responds to Abraham’s despair:  Do as Sarah says. “Because Ishmael is your child, I will make a nation of him.” Abraham sends Ishmael and Hagar into the desert.

 

The second test of Abraham, today’s reading, is known as the binding of Isaac. After the birth of Ishmael, Sarah and Abraham have a son who was named Isaac. Yahweh tells Abraham to take his only son Isaac, whom he loves, to a faraway place. There Abraham will offer his son as a burnt offering. Abraham gets up the next morning, and begins the journey. The firewood is assembled, Isaac is bound to it, and Abraham is ready to do the deed when God finally intervenes. 


During the first three weeks of my dog’s training, when I got home and opened the kennel gate Dursey would pour himself into my arms, whimpering. It was as if he was saying, “Please don’t go away. Please don’t go away.”   

 

But a curious thing happened during the fourth week.  One day I came home, opened the gate, and Dursey bounced into my arms, licked my chin and headed for the door. He rang the bells that tell me to open the door and he ran to the flower pot where I keep a tennis ball for play time. He dropped the ball at my feet and started the Dursey dance, “throw the ball, throw the ball, throw the ball.” From that day, this is how I’m greeted every time I come home.

 

Over the course of our training, the kennel did not change and my behavior pattern did not change. Each time I left, Dursey was surrounded by the same signs of love in his kennel. And each time I came home, I opened the gate and loved on him.

 

What changed in week four, was Dursey’s response to the experience.

 

He grew in trust.


In Genesis, there was a change in Abraham’s behavior that piqued my curiosity.

 

 

1.   In Chapter 21, the sending of Ishmael, Abraham is very emotional.  He is distraught. And Yahweh is compassionate…he assures Abraham that Ishmael will be the father of a nation. It will all be ok.

 

2.   But in the second test, the binding of Isaac, Abraham shows no emotion. None. And there is no compassionate assurance from Yahweh.

 

God calls to Abraham three times in today’s reading. Each time Abraham says the same three words: “Here I am.” 

 

 

Something happened between Chapter 21 and Chapter 22:  Abraham was changed.

 

He no longer needed God to reassure him that all would be well. When God called Abraham, his only response was: “Here I am”. And then he began walking toward God’s calling on his life.


 

Like Abraham and Dursey, we are tested on a regular basis. Dursey learned to trust through consistent experience with his human. Abraham learned to trust Yahweh through experience and faith.

 

Usually, the tests we face are little things. Sometimes, they’re big things. And every now and then, they are life-changing events that we can only comprehend through faith.

 

We don’t know the future for ourselves or our parish: twenty years from now or even 20 minutes from now. But we do know that God surrounds us at St. Christopher’s with signs of God’s love for us. 

 

God is present here: In us and through us.

 

There is so much hope in this place. You can feel it. Hope isn’t buried in the walls, or the pews, or the flooring.  Hope is inside you…and me.  We are signs to the world—and to one another--of God’s hope, love, and peace. 

 

Every time St. Chris meets a challenge with those three words, “Here I am,” we are changed. We grow in faith and courage. This is a place where Holy Boldness is chosen and lived.

 

We are ready for whatever is next.

 

Throw the ball, God. Throw the ball.

 

Here we are.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

February 15, 2026
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 1
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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
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