Some chemicals bond well with each other: Mix the right amount of hydrogen and oxygen and you get water. Some substances don’t mix: Add oil to that water, and they’ll separate like two people who agree to disagree. But there are other chemicals that have a volatile relationship: Introduce hydrogen peroxide to sulfuric acid, and watch the sparks fly!
That’s the reaction we saw in our scripture readings this morning. In both 2 Kings and the gospel of Mark, we saw sparks fly. First, a fiery chariot emerged from the sky to whisk the prophet Elijah away to his reward. And then a dazzling light engulfed Jesus as God revealed him to the disciples on that mountaintop. What caused such dramatic fireworks? Heaven collided with earth.
They’re very different places, aren’t they? Heaven is God’s realm, that mysterious wonderland filled with glory and joy. It’s a place of light, a place of unending beauty and perfection. Earth, on the other hand, is where humanity lives. God created it to be good, and it does have its moments. But we’ve contaminated it, stained it with sin. Nothing here is permanent, nothing is pure. Where heaven is light, the world is darkness. No wonder sparks fly when the two intersect.
But it’s those moments that give us hope. So what if they scare us half to death. We need a glimpse of heaven every now and then. When this world beats us down and drains us dry, we need the reassurance of God’s presence. You remember short story writer O. Henry. As he lay on his deathbed, he cried out: "Turn up the lights! I don't want to go home in the dark!" That’s how we all feel. Without heaven’s light to chase away the shadows, we would know only despair.
Psychiatrist Viktor Frankl survived Hitler’s death camps. During World War II, he was a prisoner at Dachau. On one particular day, he toiled just outside the camp’s fence as part of a work gang.
"We were at work in a trench," writes Frankl. "The dawn was gray around us; gray was the sky above; gray the snow in the pale light of dawn; gray rags in which my fellow prisoners were clad, and gray their faces."
Frankl was ready to die. The gray bleakness overwhelmed him, sinking its sharp claws deeper and colder into his soul. Why go on? What was the purpose in living? The clutching grayness of that miserable moment erased everything Frankl had ever believed—there was no heaven, no hell, no future, no past.
Suddenly, to his surprise, Frankl felt "a last violent protest" surge within him. Even though his body and mind had given up, his inner spirit had not. It was searching, scanning the eternal horizons for some faint glimmer that his miserable life still had a divine purpose. Frankl was looking for God.
And in a single instant two things happened, says Frankl, two things that simply could not be mere coincidence. He heard a powerful cry pierce the gloom. It came from within himself, challenging the darkness and tearing at the icy claws of death. While everything around him seemed to say “No,” the voice shouted “Yes!”
And at that exact second, "a light was lit in a distant farmhouse." It shone like a beacon, a brilliant flame amid all the gray. The light spoke of life and warmth and family and love. Frankl said that in that moment he began to believe. In that moment he began to live again.
Don’t we need that same light? Our experiences can’t compare to Frankl’s, but they’re difficult nonetheless. We know betrayal, cruelty, and injustice. We suffer illness and loss. We face financial problems. We struggle with uncertainty, doubt and loneliness. And sometimes we wonder if it’s all worth it. Does life have meaning? Where is our hope? Where is God? Turn on the light, Lord, and make yourself known!
Of course, the scriptures remind us that God has already done that in Jesus. The transfiguration wasn’t the first time sparks flew around him. Heaven collided with earth on the night of his birth, and a radiant star lit up the sky. A light shone in the darkness, a light so powerful that nothing in all the world can extinguish it. Oh, Good Friday tried to, didn’t it? The light of Christ got buried in a cold, dark tomb. But with the sunrise of Easter morning, the brightness returned, illuminating our lives for all eternity.
In The Chronicles of Narnia, C.S. Lewis weaves a tale of fantasy rich
with Christian symbolism. One adventure has Lucy Pevensie and her brother Edmund traveling with their companions on board the ship Dawn Treader. The Dawn Treader becomes mired in darkness, a darkness so thick it seems to crawl and ooze and grab at everyone. The ship sails in circles of fear.
In a desperate cry for help, Lucy turns to the skies and shouts, "If you've ever loved us at all, send us help now!"
And then a growing speck of light appears. It seemed to Lucy that the speck of light looked a lot like a cross hanging there in the sky. Soon the great powers are locked in battle, whirling furiously around the ship. When it was all over, darkness and fear had melted before the light.
For brief moments in our lives, we stand on the mountaintop and bask in God’s glory. Like the disciples, we want to settle in and stay there forever. But responsibilities await us in the valley. So we return to the dim recesses of human existence, buoyed by our time in the light and assured once more of Christ’s unending day.
