Just a Glimpse

There is a song we sang in church when I was growing up, maybe you know it. ♫ It will be worth it all♪ When we see Jesus♪ Life’s trial will seem so small♪ When we see Christ.♪ One glimpse of his dear face♪  All sorrows will erase♪ So gladly run the race♪ ‘Til we see Christ♫

What a day that will be!

Is there any way I can imagine now what that moment will be like?  Is my imagination wild enough? Large enough?  Do I have any experiences here on earth that give me a foretaste of that moment that washes away all the sorrowful memories of life and any trial, trouble-filled hours, days, months or even years?  What might I encounter here that helps me anticipate that more fully?

I’m always looking for parallels to jump start my understanding into spiritual concepts.  I imagine a literary person would call them metaphors.

Jesus used one when he warned his disciples, hours before his own crucifixion that mournful weeping was just around the corner, but their grief would turn into joy just like a woman’s anguish in childbirth is forgotten when she holds her newborn. (John 16:20-21).  That’s a parallel that I have experienced.  And it is true.  In the joy of holding the baby the travail vanishes.  That is until women get together and compare their “labor tales”.  And there are some doozies! 

In that parallel I can begin to understand how “one glimpse of Christ’s face” could really erase all my previous sorrows.

Another parallel came from a friend today.  She told me a dear person to her had given her a piece of precious information.  But my friend had no instruction of what to do with it or about it.  So she pondered it.  She wasn’t sure she had ever pondered anything like that before and certainly not for such a lengthy time.  Just within the last few days more information has been delightfully added to that morsel.  As she shared that with me I thought of Mary the mother of Jesus. Luke 2:19 tells us that Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.  She had messages from the shepherds, from the magi, from Simeon, Anna, the teachers in the temple and who knows who else.  Perhaps some of those treasures perplexed her, frightened or overwhelmed her.  But she pondered them and one day, they came to light and she understood.  My friend understands better today what to do or expect from that tidbit she pondered for so long. 

In the last 48 hours I’ve had an experience that is an appetizer-sized taste of a parallel in scripture.  I realize it is not the full-blown experience, but it is enough to nudge me toward the transcendent.

After six days Jesus took Peter, James and John with him and led them up a high mountain, where they were all alone. There he was transfigured before them.  His clothes became dazzling white, whiter than anyone in the world could bleach them.  And there appeared before them Elijah and Moses, who were talking with Jesus.  Mark 9:1-4

My joyful experience has come to me after nine years of waiting. The waiting actually isn’t finished yet, but for a moment the thorough and exacting work that is being done in the waiting was shown to me.  The veil was lifted just enough to reveal the coming glory. It took my breath away.

And then I identified with Peter. 

Peter said to Jesus, "Rabbi, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters--one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah."  Mark 9:5

I wanted to live there.  I didn’t want to return to the ambiguities, the self-doubt, second-guessing, perplexities, fluctuations of faith, highs, lows and more waiting.  But I’ve read the account enough times to know, Peter, James and John couldn’t live in that moment forever.  They had to come down from the mountain.  I knew I would have to come down, too.  But while I was there I was filling my lungs with the mountain air.

It says, “Suddenly, when they looked around, they no longer saw anyone with them except Jesus.”  Poof!  It was over.  But there was a memory.  A transcendent experience stored among other treasures.  But they would have to ponder it, because on the way down the mountain Jesus gave them orders not to tell anyone what they had seen. 

What!  Not tell!  How frustrating. I think they may have asked him a lot of questions about that.  Maybe Peter said, “I should have built that shelter while I had the chance.”

They were to keep this experience to themselves until a better time.  What would have happened if when they returned to the other disciples, they told of their experience?  Would there have been jealousy?  Would the others have believed without seeing for themselves?  Would it have been detrimental to Peter, James and John?  Would it have had the reverence that such a revelation deserves?  We don’t know.

Jesus must have known there was a better time to share their glorious experience with the others.  Maybe it was right after the crucifixion in their grief-stricken state, sequestered behind locked doors. Maybe the unparalleled joy of Christ’s resurrection triggered their memories of Christ’s transfiguration and in exuberance they told the others. It could have been during those hours together in Jerusalem waiting for the Holy Spirit. Or maybe it was all of the above. 

I’m glad Peter, James and John didn’t stay on the mountain.  I needed them to come down to testify to me of what they saw and what they continued to see.  I am coming down from the mountain, too.  But I have this treasure that I can ponder any time I want and I plan to do so.

So my momentary look under the veil inspires me to testify that God is working regardless of whether we can see it or not. And waiting for just a glimpse or for the full glory of Christ’s face is worth the wait.