Getting the skinny

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.

 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.” (He did not know what to say, they were so frightened.)

 Then a cloud appeared and enveloped them, and a voice came from the cloud: “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!”

 Suddenly, when they looked around, they no longer saw anyone with them except Jesus. -- Mark 9:2-9

As I have been anticipating a brief retreat time, I have been thinking and reading lately about "thin spaces," places where the distance between heaven and earth, or between the Almighty and humanity, seems somehow thinner, more transparent. 

For some reason, this is a difficult or unfamiliar concept for a lot of Christians. We have this idea that God is either always with us (therefore, there is no space to thin), or God is "out there" in heaven where he belongs, and we have no business approaching him.

Or sometimes, I think, maybe the unfamiliarity comes because we don't know how to handle a thin space, or even how to approach one when we happen upon it by chance. Contemplative souls and mystics understand thin, or liminal spaces, but many ordinary Christians are suspicious of such things. They seem Buddhist or eastern or something. 

But there are thin spaces, and to experience such a spot is to sit, even briefly, ever closer to the foot of the throne. It can leave you breathless, humbled-- awed. And grateful.

So it was for Peter, James and John atop the high mountain. They are overwhelmed by the awesome beauty! And not just Jesus is there, but Elijah and Moses (briefly). I suspect James and John may have been struck speechless-- but not Peter.

Maybe Peter had a gift of hospitality. Maybe that is why he blurted about how wonderful it was to be there. I don't know, but blurt he did.

And amazingly, that did not break the mood. It brought forth response, in the voice of God. Listen to my beloved son. 

Listen. Don't talk. Listen.

And on the way down the mountain, Jesus instructs them to say nothing to anyone. Perhaps this was another way of saying, "Listen. Be quiet. You have been in the presence of the Divine. Let this sit in your soul for a bit."

Be still-- and know that I am God. And I am here with you.

This is the effect a thin space can have. It feels like a heavy weight on the soul-- in a good way, like the weight of a heavy down comforter on a chill fall evening. The weight of a healthy newborn, placed gently in the arms of its mother.

It silences the words, brings you to your knees (or flat on your face). 

A thin space can be a church or a park, a synagogue or a museum. It can be a place where broken souls seek out the company of another, longing for community and healing. 

A place where we want to cry out, with Peter, "Lord-- it is good to be here!"

Have you had this experience of God? Has the ceiling so thinned between this place and paradise that you almost feel as though you just might be able to slip through?

Take time. Take a break. Remember that sensation.

Return to that place. It may not be the same-- but it may lead you to a new space.

Rest. It is good to be surrounded by the Lord who loves us best of all.