“You faithless and perverse generation”: our faithful presence. a reflection

Many of you will know that I’m an avid tramper. Any opportunity for a tramp – and I’m in! If you’ve ever tramped before, you’ll know that one of the most enjoyable parts – the thing that motivates you through the pain of a million blisters on your right foot, the thing that gets you through the excruciating conversation of a walking companion you picked up along the way, the thing that can get you through anything is the view from the top. Nothing else matters when you reach the summit of your tramping adventure. Arriving at the top to bask in the glory of the view before you is the stuff of memories and nothing eclipses it. The descent, on the other hand, well it’s arguably the worst part of a tramp; it’s recognition of the return to the mundane – re-entry into the boring rhythms of everyday life.

I’d like to think that this was the experience of the disciples Peter, James, and John. Having climbed Mount Tabor and having had an encounter with the brilliant, dazzling presence of God we read that “on the next day,” they came down from the mountain. We’ve all had our mountain top experience: those moments when everything seems just that much clearer now. Having intimate knowledge of our own mountain-top experiences, it’s not hard to imagine that the disciples would have liked theirs to last a little longer, however, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. Or do they?

And so, “on the next day,” Jesus and the disciples came down from the mountain.

If you cast your mind back to the reading two Sundays ago, to the Transfiguration event, you’ll remember that the transfigured Jesus was having a conversation about his departure, his exodus, with none other than biblical heavyweights Moses and Elijah. In awe of what was happening before, Peter, James, and John were quite literally prepared to pitch tents in order to stay at the summit and bask in the glory of Christ’s radiant presence a little longer. However, the disciples didn’t get their way. Instead, they were put in their place by the voice of God, booming from a cloud, “this is my Son, my chosen; listen to them.” With no other choice but to listen, they were subsequently forced to leave their glorious mountain-top experience and enter into the chaos brewing at the bottom of the hill. Which brings us to our reading from this morning.

Now, at the foot of the mountain, Jesus and the disciples find a crowd at the end of its tether, the remainder of the disciples in utter frustration disappointment, and a father, devoid of all hope, watching as his son wastes away before his eyes. I wouldn’t blame the three disciples if they wanted to just climb back up that mountain and avoid the hubbub altogether. But Jesus had other ideas.

Jesus begs the man bring his boy to him, and, rebuking the evil spirit that had taken up residence, heals the boy, and returns him to his father, to the acclamation of the crowd astounded at the greatness of God. In this moment, the disciples get a glimpse of the act of salvation that is to occur through Jesus for all Israelites, indeed for all humanity. A salvation event that will put an end to the foothold that evil has in the world, bring about the healing to the sick, and will usher in the restoration of family and community to itself and to God.

While Jesus is taking care of Kingdom business, casting out evil spirits, healing the sick, and rebuilding communities, it begs the question: what on earth are the disciples doing? Not a great deal, it should be said. And Jesus takes them to task over it! Speaking directly to the disciples, he says, “you faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you?”

Only a couple of weeks earlier, “Jesus [had] called the twelves disciples together and gave them the power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases, and he sent them out to proclaim the Kingdom of God and to heal.” So, when the report comes through to Jesus that his disciples were unable to cast out a seizing, shrieking, convulsing, mauling evil spirit, I’m almost not surprised by how Jesus responds. And it’s strong language indeed: “you faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you?”! As I read this passage, I could imagine the frustration that Jesus felt, hoping, praying that his disciples had learnt something from following him all this time. Having seen them with their notebooks, studiously jotting things down for so long, I imagine Jesus would have hoped to see them put what they’d learnt into practice.

“How long must I be with you… before you get it? Before this makes enough sense for you to step out in faith knowing that you’ve got this?!”

“How long must I bear with you… how long must I be patient with you… knowing that my time on earth is coming to an end, and soon enough you’ll have to do this on your own…”

“You faithless and perverse generation… how long…?!”

While it’s easy to give the disciples a hard time, I wonder whether Jesus might have cause to level the same accusations against us? As I read and reread the story, I wondered what the event might have been like from Peter’s perspective. Only a week earlier, Peter had professed his faith in Jesus. Asked, “who do you say that I am,” Peter responds, “the Messiah of God.” If I was Peter, witnessing the events that took place at the foot of that mountain, and having such an accusation levelled against me, I would have felt insulted. I thought my profession of faith was enough and now Jesus is calling me out as faithless, unbelieving. What else does he want from me?!

For Peter, as well as the other disciples, there appears to be a disconnect between profession of faith – the belief that Jesus is the long-awaited Messiah, the one to bring about salvation for God’s people – and the very real-world implications of living out this faith in the Lordship of Christ – namely, to cast out demons, heal the sick, and restore communities – all marks of the future reign of the Kingdom of God.

If Jesus were to level an accusation against us, I wonder whether it might be that there is a disconnect between what we profess – our faith in the Lordship of Christ – and how we live that out in the real-world?

As we think about what this reading might mean for us, in the here and now, it’s important to remember that what happens on the mountain, at the transfiguration, and what takes place at the foot of the mountain are inseparably linked. “The glory of God’s presence and the pain of a broken world cannot be separated.” Although no longer dazzling white, the presence of God, in Christ Jesus, enters into the very broken reality of human existence and, rather than being turned away in disgust, abhorrence, or indifference, is drawn toward a boy, arguably the most insignificant among what is likely a growing crowd, rebukes an evil spirit, heals the boy, and restores unity to a community of people.

So, how might we respond to the evils of our world?

What we as a faith community can do is be faithfully present in our wider communities. Being with people doesn’t require anything from us, except our time – and even that’s on loan from God. Being faithfully present to people in our community, we witness to the reality that despite all that is going on in the world; despite the fact that it feels like the world is turning to custard around us, the Kingdom of God is near – and that what we’re currently experiencing isn’t the whole story. This message is more important now than ever: with people’s anxiety levels sky high due to COVID-19, with the threat of World War III in Eastern Europe, with natural disasters that continue to wreak havoc around the world – the message of the gospel is reassuring news indeed!

We witness glimpses of the Kingdom of God breaking in all around us, if we but have the eyes to see and the ears to hear.[1] Yesterday, a group of us gathered to collect rubbish from Adventure Park. Our motivation: a sense that the rubbish littering the streets and parks of Levin is symptomatic of personal and systemic evil, neglect, and flagrant disregard for the natural world. As we were tidying up rubbish, we were not only keeping Horowhenua beautiful and striking up really interesting conversations with all sorts of passer-bys, but we were witnessing to the reality that in Christ Jesus, God is making all things new, and is at work redeeming not only the streets from rubbish but also people’s hearts from the evil that leads to such neglect and disregard for the natural world. What was a very physical act, of collecting, triaging, and disposing of rubbish, pointed to a greater reality, that the world as it currently is is not as God intends it to be.

What we do when we gather for worship on a Sunday is the spiritual formation that equips us to be faithfully present to those around us the other six days of the week. When “the next day” rolls around, as much as we’d like to think we do, we don’t have a choice as to whether we can pitch a tent and stick around with Jesus on the mountain top – as good as the view might be! Instead, we are called down the mountain, with Jesus and the other disciples to enter into the brokenness of this world, so that we can witness to the God who casts out evil, heals the sick, and restores communities, so that in and through us all might be astounded and proclaim the goodness of God.  

My prayer for us this week is that we would prayerfully and safely consider how we might spend time in the presence of others this week, offering a listening ear to those struggling under the burden of the world as it currently is. And may we be emboldened to witness to the good news that in Christ Jesus there is freedom from evil, healing for the sick, and restoration of families and communities.

Kororia ki te Matua, ki te Tamaiti, ki te Wairua Tapu,

Glory to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Brett Reid
Ministry Intern.