Chronic misunderstandings can be hilarious when they’re happening on TV, but when you’re trying to communicate a message of vital importance to your friends, they bring nothing but frustration. It should be no surprise that Jesus’ disciples are once again going to play the role of the Clampett family—convinced they understand what’s going on, but in reality hopelessly confused.

• Read Mark 9:1–13

In recounting the event of Jesus’ transfiguration, Mark connects it with the message Jesus had spoken just six days prior. He has promised that his kingdom will soon come in power, and now he’s going to give his “inner inner circle” of disciples (Peter, James, and John) a sneak peek of this future glory. They ascend a high mountain together, and there, the layers of Jesus’ humble earthiness are peeled away; his glory as the Son of God breaks through, and he shines bright like the sun. Even his clothes glow “intensely white, as no one on earth could bleach them.” And to top it off, two of the most pivotal figures in Israelite history, Moses and Elijah, appear out of nowhere and begin holding a conversation with Jesus.

I’m not sure what Jesus’ three disciples were expecting to happen on that mountain, but this definitely exceeds it. They are unable to comprehend what is going on; it has overwhelmed their senses and they are petrified at first. Finally, Peter shouts at Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good that we are here. Let us make three tents, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah.” Mark tells us what’s going on in his head: “He did not know what to say, for they were terrified.” Apparently, James and John are shocked into silence, but that’s not the way Peter handles the unimaginable. When he is flabbergasted, Peter responds by blurting out the first thing that pops into his mind. I guess he just wants to be useful.

Now at this point, the purpose of the transfiguration is revealed. A cloud envelops the mountaintop, and a divine voice speaks to them, saying, “This is my beloved Son; listen to him.” The cloud lifts, and the glory vanishes; only Jesus remains with them, as he was before. He leads them down the mountain and warns them not to speak of this event until he has “risen from the dead.” Until then, any announcement of Jesus’ glory is premature. This is the main reason why Jesus orders people to keep quiet about him—his glory is not to be fully revealed until he has died and risen again.

Once again, his disciples miss the point. When they caught a glimpse of his glory, and it was announced that he was the “beloved Son” of God, they should have understood that this was a wake-up call for them, intended to shock them out of their spiritual dullness. The transfiguration ended with the words, “Listen to him!” But they aren’t. They’re “questioning what this rising from the dead might mean” even though Jesus had said plainly what it means—that he will have to suffer first before his glorious kingdom comes (8:31).

Yes, Jesus’ disciples have misinterpreted the transfiguration. They’re high on what they’ve just seen; they’re convinced that the Messiah has come in glory, about to usher in a holy and righteous Jewish empire. Jesus’ predictions that the Messiah will suffer, die, and rise from the dead are just anomalous data points that his disciples have chosen to ignore. They only have one nagging doubt, which they bring up to Jesus: “Why do the scribes say that first Elijah must come?” They’d just caught a glimpse of Elijah, but he hasn’t been traveling around Judea to prepare the people for the coming Messiah.

Jesus affirms what the Jewish teachers have been saying: “Elijah does come first to restore all things”—just as the prophet Malachi said (Malachi 3:5–6). But then he redirects the conversation, asking, “How is it written of the Son of Man that he should suffer many things and be treated with contempt?” That’s what the disciples are choosing to ignore, refusing to listen to Jesus. “But I tell you that Elijah has come,” Jesus says, “and they did to him whatever they pleased, as it is written of him.” With this curveball, Jesus shatters any last hope of a glorious political Messiah. In the Old Testament, Elijah suffered greatly, and the next “Elijah” suffered as well; he was John the Baptist, and he was beheaded by Herod. And the same will happen to the Son of Man, the Messiah.

This is the death knell for the “glory story” of those who promise prosperity and success in this life to you and me. If you are a disciple of Jesus, “Your Best Life Now” will not happen, not yet; anyone who promises it to you is deaf to what Jesus says. Jesus came to suffer, and to follow him (8:34) means that we will, too. Until we are raised to life again in glory, we will share the pain and hardship of our Lord. Expect nothing less.

• Read Mark 8:31–9:1

Today’s passage overlaps a bit with the passage we studied last week, because really it’s all one long story that we’re examining a piece at a time. After eight chapters in which Jesus’ divine authority is on display, his disciples begin to understand what’s going on. Peter realizes, “You are the Christ!” So finally we’re getting somewhere. Jesus is the king, anointed by God, whom the prophets had said would come to rescue Israel.

Unfortunately for Peter’s dreams of a glorious political kingdom, Jesus announces that his mission is to suffer, be rejected, be killed, and rise again. That doesn’t exactly fit into his disciples’ mindset of what glory looks like, so Peter takes him aside to rebuke him. But Jesus turns the tables on Peter and chews him out, calling him Satan and telling him, “You are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man.”

Now, I think most of us would agree that what Peter said was wrong. But why does Jesus come down so hard on him? Well, we’re about to find out, because Jesus won’t let this teaching moment slip by. There’s a crowd following him and his disciples, so he calls them all together and tells them, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”

Apparently, Jesus isn’t trying to be Mr. Popular.

Remember from a while back that to be a disciple of Jesus means that you need to be with Jesus and you need to imitate him. To be with Jesus, you need to know who he is—that he’s the Messiah. To imitate him, you need to know his mission, and his mission is to fulfill all that God the Father has in store for him—his suffering, rejection, death, and resurrection. He has come to submit to God’s will. Now, Jesus is also calling his followers to submit. He tells them that they need to deny themselves; they don’t get to choose for themselves how they will live. Every disciple must “take up his cross.” This is a vivid and repulsive image in the mind of the crowd. They’ve seen crucifixions take place at the hand of their Roman overlords. The main point of crucifixion isn’t to torture a person to death; it’s to present that person as a public spectacle of what happens when you defy the might of Rome. A man going to his crucifixion would be led through crowded streets, bearing the crossbar of his own cross. On his public death march, he is no longer acting as a rebel; Rome has won, and he has submitted to its authority. In the same way, Jesus is telling his disciples, “If you want to follow me, you must join me, abandoning your old mindsets and old ways of life. You must come alongside me in absolute submission to God.”

Now, that’s a tough pill to swallow, so Jesus tells us why it’s necessary. “For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it.” Counterintuitively, a disciple must give up his entire life to God in order to save it. Like the oil in the jar of the prophet’s widow (2 Kings 4:1–7), it can’t be renewed unless it’s entirely poured out. A disciple can’t hold back a few corners of his life for himself. He can’t play it safe. He must devote himself exclusively to his Lord, take risks for him, wear himself out with the Lord’s work. If he tries to hold back, he’ll give up the very life he’s been trying to keep for himself, because God will take it away from him.

You’ll lose your life if you try to keep it for yourself; you’ll save it if you let it go. Jesus explains this paradox: “For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?” If you keep yourself back from God, it won’t be gain at all, even if you got all the approval and money and comfort and pleasure and self-esteem you could dream of. You’ll lose your soul, and you won’t be able to get it back. “For what can a man give in return for his soul?” Jesus asks, and the answer is, “Nothing.” All that honor and luxury you’ve gained won’t be enough to buy it back.

Why can’t you buy back your soul? Jesus warns, “For whoever is ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of Man also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.” You can’t buy your soul back because Jesus will be too embarrassed to be seen with you. He’ll be too ashamed to be around someone who prefers “this adulterous and sinful generation” to “the glory of his Father” and the presence of “the holy angels.” No amount of contaminated money or worthless prestige that you can offer will ever wallpaper over that shame. Jesus can’t be bribed.

But then, Jesus delivers a guarantee to the crowd. “Truly, I say to you, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see the kingdom of God after it has come with power.” Jesus won’t allow you to buy your way into his kingdom; he offers it freely. And there are some in that crowd who will consider the cost and still choose to be his disciples. And three of them are about to catch a glimpse of the King with his veil removed and his glory revealed. This kingdom is of supreme worth, more valuable than any earthly kingdom.

So Jesus has come to submit himself to his Father’s will, and his disciples are called to do the same. If you tend to be a self-ambitious person, Jesus is warning you not to seek earthly glory but to submit to God, devote yourself to him, and in this way receive the glory of his kingdom. If you tend to be a lazy person, Jesus is warning you to stop holding back and to start pouring yourself out for God. Go all in. And then…then you’ll begin to see a radiant sliver of the glory that awaits you.

A Psalm of David.

1 Ascribe to the LORD, O heavenly beings,
ascribe to the LORD glory and strength.
2 Ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name;
worship the LORD in the splendor of holiness.

3 The voice of the LORD is over the waters;
the God of glory thunders,
the Lord, over many waters.
4 The voice of the LORD is powerful;
the voice of the LORD is full of majesty.

5 The voice of the LORD breaks the cedars;
the LORD breaks the cedars of Lebanon.
6 He makes Lebanon to skip like a calf,
and Sirion like a young wild ox.

7 The voice of the LORD flashes forth flames of fire.
8 The voice of the LORD shakes the wilderness;
the LORD shakes the wilderness of Kadesh.

9 The voice of the LORD makes the deer give birth
and strips the forests bare,
and in his temple all cry, “Glory!”

10 The LORD sits enthroned over the flood;
the Lord sits enthroned as king forever.
11 May the LORD give strength to his people!
May the LORD bless his people with peace!

Today, I stumbled on a blog commenting on the flooding in Lake Delton, Wisconson. I hadn’t heard of it, but apparently there isn’t really a Lake Delton anymore. Due to a recent flash flood, the waters damaged much of the town and ultimately overflowed the dam, escaping from the lake and leaving behind a muddy basin. It’s a tragedy for those who live there, but the blog author painted it as part of the struggle of man vs. nature: “Mother Nature is watching. She knows who is really in control.” I’ve heard it said that “Mother Nature” is merely a flimsy euphemism for “Father God.” It’s ridiculous to talk about the creation as though it were in control rather than its Creator. In Psalm 29, we see who really is in charge. It is not a nebulous “Mother Nature” at work in the lightning, in the thunder, in the breaking of cedars, in the shaking of the wilderness. It is the resounding voice of the Lord. I remember driving through Mississippi the summer after Hurricane Katrina and seeing an entire forest ruined, its greatest trees snapped in half by the force of the storm. (The heat energy produced by a hurricane is about the equivalent of a 10-megaton nuclear warhead exploding every 20 minutes.) The psalmist had witnessed a similar storm shatter the thick cedar forests of Lebanon, and in it he saw the power of the Lord.

I especially love v. 9. “The voice of the LORD makes the deer give birth and strips the forests bare, and in his temple all cry, ‘Glory!’” I heard that verse quoted once in a “Sermon Jam” made from a John Piper sermon. The awe and wonder with which Piper quotes it as part of a prayer—it is something I don’t think I can ever forget. There is something incredible about the reading of scripture with passion, when the reader clearly believes that these are the words of the Almighty. Too often we fail to express this as we read scripture.

What I love about this verse, beyond the visceral impact, is that last line: “And in his temple all cry, ‘Glory!’” The temple was the place where man encountered God and experienced His presence. It was the intersection of heaven and earth; in terms of ultimate significance, it was the center of the universe. The true worshipers of God who stood in His temple were stunned by His power, and only one word escaped from their lips: glory!

All that we see around us leads to the inescapable conclusion that there is an unbelievable gravity to God—what the dictionary calls an “alarming importance” or “seriousness.” The Hebrew word for glory referred to something heavy—something weighty or significant. Those standing in the temple could see and hear the power of the storm, and they knew Someone big was behind it all. And the Lord has not changed; His voice retains its power and authority today.

Our God is a colossus.

Here, Isaiah encountered the God who had judged and humbled King Uzziah. Unlike Uzziah, whose body had slowly wasted away over the final years of his rule, the Lord was “high and lifted up,” His glory overwhelming Isaiah and even the seraphim whose voices shook the temple. Isaiah rightly identified the Lord as the one true Sovereign, “the King, the LORD of hosts!” (v. 5).

When it seems like the presence of God in my life has decayed due to my own neglect of spiritual things, I need to remember that God Himself is my eternal King. His kingdom will never end—neither in this world nor in my soul. May He teach me to see Him as holy and eternal, the God whose glory fills the whole earth!

That’s a tough one to answer. As I’ve grown in my faith — particularly over the last few months — I’ve begun to realize how sinful I am. It feels like every action of mine is laced and corrupted with sin. My attitude is rarely where it should be, and my motives are rarely pure. If I were God, I know that I would have given up on me long ago. So why doesn’t He do so?

1 Timothy 1:12-17
12 I thank him who has given me strength, Christ Jesus our Lord, because he judged me faithful, appointing me to his service, 13 though formerly I was a blasphemer, persecutor, and insolent opponent. But I received mercy because I had acted ignorantly in unbelief, 14 and the grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. 15 The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. 16 But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life. 17 To the King of ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.

My salvation is entirely due to God’s grace. The faith and love which characterize my walk with God did not come from myself at all; they are gifts from God (v. 14). There is nothing about me or my own ability to choose God that caused Him to save me. I was neither smart enough nor righteous enough to decide that He is Lord. It was His gift of faith that caused me to believe. In fact, I was a desperate and wicked sinner — the “chief of sinners” (from vv. 15-16). Thankfully, saving sinners is Jesus’ specialty.

So why did God save me? I received His mercy in order that Jesus Christ could show His patience toward me (v. 16). Even as I sin daily against Him — far more than against anyone else! — He loves, forgives, and blesses me. I know I can’t possibly be that patient.

God is glorified through His patience toward me (v. 17). It’s tempting (and foolish) to believe that because God has His glory in mind first and foremost, that we are just incidental to Him. But in fact, God’s love, mercy, and patience toward us is all wrapped up in His glory. I can have full confidence that He will never give up on me because His patience is the very thing He’s working to display.

I’m praying that God will never let me lose sight of His mercy and patience. Truly He is “the King of ages, immortal, invisible, the only God” (v. 17).

He predestined us for adoption…to the praise of his glorious grace. (vv. 5-6)
In him we have obtained an inheritance…so that we who were the first to hope in Christ might be to the praise of his glory. (vv. 11-12)
In him you also…were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit…to the praise of his glory. (vv. 13-14)

I suppose I’ve heard it a hundred times that God works for His glory, but it’s an important thing to remember. Even our salvation took place so that God can show how glorious His grace is. Ephesians seems to talk a lot about the unbelievable treasures we have in Christ; it would be easy to lose focus and to forget that we receive these so that we might praise God.

Clearly, I need to start praising God more instead of letting these riches go to waste. I suppose a great way to do that would be to (gasp) talk about what God has been teaching me. It’s kind of weird…I feel with many fellow Christians as though talking about spiritual things is “off limits” except when we’re in small group, church, etc. God forbid that we talk about what is most valuable and precious to us — the one thing we have in common as a family. My roommate Mike and I recently discussed how silly it is to think we can be bold in declaring the truth of the gospel to unbelievers when we won’t even discuss it among believers.

I’m going to try it tonight at HOOT. We’ll see how it goes. (Holding it up to God in prayer, of course.)