Church of the Incarnation

The day I left to begin my recent vacation at Edisto was a hectic one. I already knew I needed to get a copy of my home inspection report and take it to my realtor's office. I also needed to pack my clothes and cooler. My plan was to leave at 11 or 12 so I could get to the island right at my 4:00 check-in time. That way I could pick up some shrimp for dinner, get settled in the house, and take Toby for a walk on the beach before the sun went down on my first day of fun.

But all that changed at 8:30 that morning when the lady from Gaffney Mini Storage called to tell me my storage unit had been robbed. I rushed out to meet the police at the storage unit, and found the contents of my unit strewn across the pavement. Flowered plastic Easter eggs and ribbon for wrapping presents rolled around among the opened boxes of table linens and framed artwork. Sorting through the muddle of what was left, I slowly began to realize that all my power tools and lawn equipment were gone. It was hard to remember all the tools I'd packed into the unit last December, and I couldn't give much information to the police. The officer told me to mull it over and then come amend the report with details later. So I set about shoving everything back into the storage unit, hammering the dented door shut, and getting a new lock to secure it. I then spent an hour longer than I anticipated getting things squared away with the realtor before I took my file of user manuals to the police office to fill in the details on the report.

It was 3:30 before I was ready to leave for vacation, and I was completely frazzled. I spent the drive stewing about how I could do the things I wanted to do in the new house without my power tools and worrying about how I was going to take Toby on a walk and grill some shrimp before the sun went down. I arrived at Edisto well after the seafood market had closed, and lugged all my junk up the stairs and into the house. By the time it was all inside, it was 8:30 and the sun was going down and it was too late to take Toby on a much-needed walk. All day I'd been racing against sundown, trying to get things done before it got dark and I could no longer enjoy the beach. But then I walked onto the back porch of the beach house, and I saw the sunset in a whole new way.

The sun was a glowing orange ball dangling over the water, it's reflection reaching across the ocean to me. The sky was a watercolor painting of pinks and purples, dotted with seagulls in graceful flight. The rhythm of the waves slowed my breathing and the soft strength of the wind held me up as I relaxed into the peace of the most beautiful part of the day at the beach. I was so grateful that it was too late to walk Toby and that the seafood market had been closed; I might have been so busy walking and cooking that I'd missed this.

It was just another ordinary day for Peter, James, and John. They'd been following Jesus for some time now. They'd been present for miraculous healings and heard some baffling parables. They'd been sent out to proclaim the kingdom and to heal the sick, and they'd come back together for support. But the crowds had interrupted their time with Jesus, so they'd helped Jesus feed the masses. Now Jesus wanted his three special disciples to follow him up the mountain to pray, so here they were after the long climb, watching their Lord pray. They were exhausted - and not just from the trek, they were exhausted long before that. Since returning from their healing mission they'd been trying to find a quiet place away from the crowds, but the masses had always found them. Finally they'd found solitude, and the weight of the months of busy-ness descended on them.

But as they fought to keep their eyelids from drooping, they began to see their praying Lord in a whole new way. Suddenly this man who'd been driving them on to do more, who'd been allowing the masses to invade their "me time," and who'd been sending them out with impossible to-do lists, suddenly this man blazed before them with the glory of God. He wasn't simply a master to be followed and obeyed, even admired and emulated, he was God's own son.

Do you remember the first Shrek movie? The lovable ogre Shrek and his talking donkey friend are sent on a quest. They leave the solitude of the swamp to travel to a faraway land. The cross a river of molten lava, fend off a fire-breathing dragon, and rescue the princess Fiona from the tallest tower of the castle. They flee with the princess, and finally find her a cave where she can rest for the night. The two stretch out on some rocks and look up into the night sky. Shrek traces the shapes of the constellation for donkey and tells him the stories of the ogres depicted in them. But donkey can't see it. He says, "Man, that ain't nothin' but a bunch of little dots." And Shrek replies, "You know, donkey, sometimes things are more than they appear."

Sometimes things are more than they appear. Sometimes sunset isn't just a deadline but the most beautiful, wondrous, God-filled moment of the day. And sometimes the taskmaster who drives us on is the very son of God. Sometimes the teenager who speaks only in sullen grunts is the one who cuddles the little one scared by the mean guard Brutus at Vacation Bible School. And sometimes the spouse whose shape is forever imprinted in that stupid Barc-o-Lounger or who nags incessantly with honey-do lists is the one who won't leave our side when we're in the hospital.

Peter, James, and John almost missed the Transfiguration. They almost let their own exhaustion from the hectic pace they'd been keeping weigh them down with sleep.

Life is full of transfiguration moments, chances to see that things are more than they appear, that God is at work through all things, and that God's glory blazes all around us. Let's not miss them. Let's tune our breathing not to the hectic rhythm of the blaring sirens and honking horns all around us but to the slow ebb and flow of the waves. Let's pare down our commitments so we don't walk around with our eyes weighed down with sleep. And let's look, really look all around us. And let the glory of God blaze through.

Amen.