Hi everyone,
Welcome to worship for this Transfiguration of our Lord Sunday, which lands on February 15, 2026!
The bulletin for this service can be found here. You follow along with the service with the bulletin or just with the words on your screen. The sermon can be found both in the bulletin and on this page below the video.
If you’d like to enhance your online worship experience, you can have a candle in your space, lit for most of the service and put out after the sending hymn, when the altar candles are extinguished. You are also welcome to participate in communion by having something small to eat and drink prepared. Further instruction will be given at the appropriate time.
May the light of God’s ever-present love shine in and around you, this day and always!
O God, be our light. Show us the way. Make us attentive to your presence, your voice, your very Word, that we more readily and faithfully navigate this world with mercy, compassion, and love, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
So this is 50.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about, I actually turned this never-to-be-mentioned-again age about a week and a half ago. And if I were being honest, I feel the same. Like, nothing really changed, nothing big at least. I wasn’t struck down by arthritis or anything. My hair didn’t explode into a ball of grey or fall out, not really I don’t think. Nor did I instantly forget why I went into the room that I was in, not that time anyway. It just seemed like a normal day just like the 18,000 or so that I’ve experienced before it. So why shall it not be ever mentioned again?
Well, it’s the hype. The idea of growing older. The notion that so many of us have or are subliminally taught that young=good and not-as-young=not-as-good. I admit that I’ve totally fallen for it when it comes to myself and my own age, and that mentality still lives rent-free in my head. So when these milestone birthdays come for me, I cringe a little. I might still celebrate by taking like a week off work, but the thought of it still weighs on me.
Because growing up is hard.
I know, “growing up” can be a very subjective term, especially for people who collect stupid amounts of toys and continue to play with Lego, and find the most asinine things funny. I’m not naming any names, but I’m sure all of us know people… or perhaps even a pastor… who are like that. But time waits for no one and deny it as we may, we change. We mature. Our responsibility grows.
And I think that’s the scary part.
Because as old as I am, I don’t have all the answers. As I add another year of experience under my belt, I’m still not sure what to do. While I can see this growing mountain of need, I don’t know if I have it in me to even do anything about it. I want to, I really really do. But I’m just not sure I can.
That’s why I cringe when I think about my age. I shirk away from my increasing responsibility and expectation. I’m scared of growing older.
Maybe you’ve felt this as well. Maybe you are feeling it. Maybe you also know the fear and borderline unwillingness to accept who we are, what we should do, and to where we’re called.
I think this is what the disciples might have been feeling near the end of today’s gospel lesson. Of course, today we get the Transfiguration story, which is super appropriate for Transfiguration Sunday, and we’re likely familiar with the details. Jesus takes Peter, James, and John, up on this mountain and for some reason unbeknownst to anyone, Jesus is transfigured. In that, his entire figure is transformed. Not into a car of some kind, a plane, or a retro cassette player as cool as that would be, but into pretty much pure dazzling light. And then just as inexplicably, Moses and Elijah show up and are just chillin there with Jesus.
Scary, right? At least I know I would be afraid if I saw this. But those who were there witnessing it are like Jesus’ inner circle, his closest friends, the executive of the council or his mutual ministry committee if you will, so to them, this could have been like a regular Tuesday. I mean, look at Peter’s reaction, it doesn’t really sound like one of fear, as he just casually suggests they pitch a few tents for Jesus and his newly appeared friends. Talk about asinine things, because I think this is hilarious.
But again, Peter’s reaction doesn’t sound like he’s scared. He sounds normal. Calm. Thinking clearly, even. Well, at least until his bright idea is interrupted by this voice from heaven saying, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”
And wouldn’t you know it, that is when the disciples finally show a reaction. They were overcome by fear at the sound of this voice. They fell to the ground.
Not because Jesus was emanating the light of a thousand suns. Not because Moses and Elijah were somehow back from the dead and recognisable without the help of pictures or drawings or AI. Not even because that tent idea was actually laughably ridiculous.
But I think they were afraid because the voice told them to listen to Jesus. They fell to the ground because God’s glory shone around them and said that Jesus is the example, the standard, the blueprint of what we’re called to be. They cringed in fear because they’re realising that gone are the days of goofing off under the sycamore tree, hanging out in the fishing boat, engaging in the ways of the world. But this ish just got real. They had to grow up. They needed to pull up their socks. They were called to listen to Jesus, the Son of God, the Messiah, the Saviour of the world.
And that is scary.
I mean, what does it even mean to listen to Jesus? To have all the answers? To know what to say and when? To have it all together when it comes to ministry, service, and community? I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t think the disciples thought they could do that. I don’t know if any of us in the room or beyond would ever be able to do that. No offense, but that sounds hard.
Like life is hard enough, but claiming this faith that has been so divisive over the past two millennia of human history is darn near impossible. Acting our age is something we might not want to do but following the immovable moral compass of Jesus is overwhelming. Owning up to how old we are might be something we avoid, but knowing that we are called by the God who created the universe is debilitatingly terrifying, enough to make us drop down to our knees in anxiety, fear, and maybe a bit of denial of who we are, whose we are, and what we are to do and how we are to act in this world that is so broken and full of hatred and evil.
But maybe it’s just in my head.
Because in these fears and anxieties, Jesus remains with us. In our feelings of overwhelming trepidation, Jesus is present in our community through his teachings and example. In our inability to believe or maybe even accept that we’ve been called, Jesus puts his hand on us, tells us to get up and not be afraid, and then holds us in arms of unending compassion and love.
See I don’t think we’re called to be perfect. I don’t think we are led away from things that give us joy like our toys and corny jokes. I don’t think that listening to Jesus means that we can’t make any mistakes, have doubts, or feel unsure or inadequate, but I think listening to Jesus is to hear his comforting promises of community and peace, to see his calming and gracious presence, and to follow his example not of extreme moral excellence, but of compassion, mercy, and love.
Compassion for those who might not be as fortunate or blessed as we are. Mercy for those who make mistakes and inadvertently hurt others just as we do. Love to see the value and worth in every person, as every person is a declared and welcomed child of God. That includes all of you. Me. Everyone who ever lived, lives, or will live. All.
I know, that might still seem scary as heck, because it’s hard to have that compassion for others that we might not like, to show mercy to the undeserving, and to even love those who are particularly unlovable. But in our listening, we can see what is possible. In our following, we will be empowered and strengthened for service. In our being children of God, we too are changed and transformed, probably not into dazzling bright light, but to further reflect God’s promises, to display God’s grace, and to exude God’s love.
And it’s there, in God’s presence among and around the saints in community, where we can see Jesus with us, regardless of who we are, what mistakes we’ve made or shortcomings we have, or even how old we are, and he holds us, loves and blesses us, and tells us that he has us, so we needn’t be afraid.
As we move from this season after the Epiphany and into the season of Lent, may we continue to see the leading of the Spriit, feel the love of God, and listen to the teachings of Jesus that bring us deeper into relationship and faith. Thanks be to God. Amen.
