(Matthew 17:1-9) ­ Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, "Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, "This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!" When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, "Get up and do not be afraid." And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, "Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead."

Tara Lechtenberger was walking home from class at the university. She was in one of those pondering moods, and her thoughts turned toward God. Suddenly she felt she needed to look up into the sky. She looked up. The trees were so tall. The sky very blue. The wind obviously there but blowing in a way that could only be described as perfect. And then, as if someone was carefully unzipping the sky and peeling back a layer of something -- the world opened up to her.

Her feet were moving, cars were still driving by and people were walking around, but at that moment everything stood still. She could feel herself raising her arms and twirling around and really feeling God present with her, telling her that she was a child of God, forgiven, loved, important, special, and that she had a real purpose on this earth. And then slowly, as if in reverse, the world zipped back up, and there she was -- walking down the street. The trees were still very green and very tall, the sky a beautiful blue, the wind still perfectly blowing in her face. She looked around and wondered. Did anyone else feel that?

My friend Jay McDaniel likes to say that there are four insights that are the musical score of faith. He says this is what we know when we listen intuitively to the music of faith:
There is a deep mystery in life -- something more -- and it is good
There is a grace sufficient to each moment
There is a wideness in God's mercy
All will be well

I think that "transfiguration moments" are times when we catch an eyeful or an earful of that divine symphony. I'm convinced that all human beings -- not just saints like Peter, James and John -- all human beings experience moments of transfiguration. We've all been touched by mystery. It is something deep, something more in life; and it is good. It has a wideness and a fullness that is more than we can possess, but we can remember mystery's presence. I've felt it in here, in this holy place of prayer. I've glimpsed it in many of you. Gerald May writes, "in the pause between breaths, in the space between thoughts, in the quiet that remains after any sound or activity ceases. All it takes to notice mystery is to look very closely at anything, to appreciate the presence of that thing and the wonder of your being there looking at it."

Judy Stephen tells of an experience when she was camping in Florida. She's not an early riser, but she awoke early one morning and felt drawn down a park trail toward the beach. She stepped on to the white sand just as the sun rose over the aquamarine water. Dawn cast a gentle, pink glow over the ocean, the shore and over her. It was so quiet, so holy. Although she had stumbled as an intruder into this sunrise, she felt welcomed with Love as an expected partner in this daily ritual of rebirth. She realized that she was as natural and planned a part of that scene as if she had been a grain of sand, a sea crab, a blade of sea oats. It was as if God had enfolded and accepted her into this Beauty, a sunrise scene that has happened on that spot every morning for eons. For that few seconds (or was it hours?), she felt part of God. For the first time in her life, she said, she was not one woman standing apart from Nature and admiring the work God had created for our enjoyment. She was with God, surrounded by and part of His Creation. Then the Oneness lifted. She heard the sounds of the other campers as they began their day. The rest of the world woke up, and she became separate again. But she never forgot.

Peggy Bosmyer was sixteen at the youth group meeting in St. John's, Helena. The rector Phil Leach went around the room and asked, "Who are you?" She's sure he was looking for the baptismal response, but when he came to her it was as if he had pushed her off a dark precipice. For several weeks after that she felt she was walking around blindly in a "dark night of the soul." She almost hated the priest for doing that to her.

Finally, one Sunday morning kneeling for communion in her pew, she prayed: "God, if you are there, show me. Otherwise, I'm gone." What happened next was that the whole sanctuary was flooded with light and a loving Presence that she knew completely in the deepest part of her soul. She says, "We stayed like that for -- who know -- probably only moments -- kairos time -- then I said, 'Thank you' and instantly all was normal again." That transfiguration moment became a touchstone for her, and she's recognized that Presence many times since then.

Liz Harter was rocking her three-month old daughter to sleep and was struck with the child's perfection. This was God's doing. It made her cry. After the tears, it occurred to her that twenty-nine years earlier she may have been held and adored in the same kind of way. She too was God's doing. We ALL start perfect because we are God's doing. Everyone -- friends family, neighbors, grocery clerks, annoying people, criminals -- are all gifts from God. For her, that realization made peace a possibility.

There are so many stories. There are so many stories here among our friends at St. Paul's. We have a parishioner who tells of knowing God by studying a group of snowflakes on her navy blue mitten -- billions of snowflakes, each a unique six sided ice crystal. Another parishioners experienced profound peace as friends said the Lord's Prayer around her bed just before she was to leave for surgery. One parishioner growing up in a terribly dysfunctional family found refuge, peace and strength as a child during her walks in the woods.

Now 97, Caroline Henry remembers a moment in 1974 when she held resentment for something she knew was wrong. She was troubled. One Sunday in church as she knelt, she prayed that God would take this burden from her. When she rose she felt peace and knew her prayer had been answered.

Another parishioner entered surgery for a tumor that tests showed was growing through her voice box. Both would have to be removed. In recovery the doctor told her that when he made the incision in her neck, he felt a rush of wind in the room. The tumor rolled out into his hand, unattached to anything.

Another parishioner tells of being in a small private plane with the engine off and a broken propeller. Someone all powerful, all loving and all knowing took him by his left elbow and said, "Roy, look through the windshield and tell me what you see." He said, "I see flat land and Springdale is somewhere out there, and the flat land goes as far as I can see." The presence replied, "Yes, Roy, and eternity is like that. It goes on and on. And do you know what? I am in charge of eternity." Roy knew that whatever happened, all would be well. Eventually, he and the pilot walked away from a dead-stick landing.

Another parishioner who had grown up unchurched, walked into Canterbury Cathedral on a tour. Stepping into a low ceilinged room a few steps below the main level, she felt compelled to kneel. She'd never had a spiritual experience in her life. This was a complete surprise. So as not to embarrass her family, she fought off the feeling. Just as she was released from her compulsion to kneel, the guide said this was the place where pilgrims to Thomas Becket's shrine would drop to their knees as soon as they entered the room, making their way to the altar on their knees. That experience began a lively and on-going spiritual journey for her.

I have a friend who experiences bliss when reading and studying. Another who found equanimity while gazing at a wild mountain flower. One who experienced ecstasy feeling the love of Jesus upon the cross. Several who know God's presence through their art and creativity.

The music of divine life is all around us. It sings to us with wonderful truths. There is a deep mystery in life -- something more -- and it is good. There is a grace sufficient to each moment. There is a wideness in God's mercy. All will be well. These are the messages our hearts receive when we are opened to the deepest depths, "in the pause between breaths, in the space between thoughts, in the quiet that remains after any sound or activity ceases." Let the memory of your own experiences of transfiguration be treasures that you ponder in your heart. And be open, be awake. For the light of Something More is here within the fabric of this wonderful creation. At any moment the veil can lift, and the fabric may thin. These are gifts of God for the people of God.