Community is such a buzz word in my head – anyone else? In college, it was all about getting “connected” and finding “community” and building “community.” I was an RA and then an ARD in college, so I was the “community” person! My staffs used to joke that my major was ResLife – I was so invested in Reed Hall life. College lent itself so well to community – you’re constantly surrounded by people in a similar life stage, with similar interest, similar schedules, and within walking distance of you! For an extrovert with lots of capacity for other people, this was the dream!
And then, I moved far away from university. While most of my friends stayed in and around Indiana, I moved to East Harlem. And suddenly community didn’t feel easy. I remember a lot of the tears I shed during my first few months here. Not only did I not know anyone, but I was experiencing culture shock in crazy ways. I moved here as an intern at a church and was also a host at a restaurant in Times Square. The people around me where not people I would choose to know, coming from my Christian bubble experience leading up to this point. New York was full of people, and I felt entirely alone.
Eventually, I found a beautiful and life-giving and fantastic community. During the summer of 2019, I felt confident in my work, had a really solid community of friends at church. I was having SO much fun with my work community. And life felt good. I left the city for a few weeks to go home for my best friend’s wedding, and when I came back everything changed. There was a false-alarm active shooter situation in Times Square that left me with debilitating PTSD. My grandfather died, spiraling me into a weird and difficult trauma/grief response. And then a few months later, the pandemic hit. I was then also processing a devastating heart break. Over the course of the next two years, I found myself distrustful of the church and anxious about joining any church related community due to the pain I had experienced with the church, both as a pastor, and as a PK. I felt entirely alone.
So when I was preparing for my sermon, the first sermon I’ve preached in four years, I laughed. Of all people to speak on community, this girl is not one who always has positive joy-filled things to say these days. And yet, Jesus continues to speak to my heart, through other people oftentimes funny enough. I say all of this to say, for those here who feel alone, who have been hurt and don’t know how to move forward, who don’t know if they can trust this community, I am with you.
Maybe community comes easy to you. You have a great community group right now, you feel plugged in and connected. Maybe you are sitting here today and it’s your first Sunday with us – you’re new to the city and you don’t know where to find good community. You’re feeling alone and nervous, but hopeful. Perhaps you know community important and all you want in the whole world is connection with others, but you don’t know where to look. So you go EVERYWHERE. You’re in every community group, you joined a workout community, and you still feel alone. Maybe you are the biggest introvert and know you need community, but you’d rather go home every single day than meet up with that friend you’ve been putting off for months.
Wherever you are, in whatever state you find yourself in, I believe that there’s a word for us today as we look to Jesus together.
Let’s look back to this passage in Luke.
‘About eight days after Jesus said this, he took Peter, John and James with him and went up onto a mountain to pray.
Before we get to this adventure up the mountain, we need to back track a little bit to fully understand what’s going on. In this same chapter, Jesus feeds a crowd of 5,000 people miraculously with five loaves and two fish. Then, he retreats to pray in private and when he returns, Peter confesses that Jesus is the Messiah. While they’re all chatting, Jesus predicts his death and talks to his disciples about picking up their cross and denying themselves.
And that’s where this passage picks up. It’s been about a week since Jesus tells his posse that he’s going to die and now he’s inviting Peter, John, and James to pray with him.
We haven’t seen him do this yet. Jesus up to this point has gone off to pray in private, which is also important! But now, some pretty bold statements have been said, and he brings his inner circle with him to pray with him.
Can you imagine the pressure Jesus might be feeling? He’s getting closer to his death, and I can imagine there might be some anxiety present. After all, he was fully human. He’s told his friends for the first time about this, and now he gets away to pray with his 3 closest friends.
As a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man – this is convicting. As I’ve wrestled this passage this week, I am feeling personally victimized by what Jesus is inviting us into. I do not want to admit that I need help, and inviting people into my intimate faith life feels risky. As an Enneagram Two (the Helper), I pride myself on being the HELPER, not the HELP-EE. But I don’t think this is unique to me. Heck, New Yorkers are strong and independent people who are successful because we’ve figured out how to make it here, and if you can make it here – you can make it anywhere! I think there’s this fear that if we admit that we need others and need help, we’ll be perceived as weak or a failure or that we’ll be taken advantage of in our weakness.
I love this quote by Brene Brown:
One of the greatest barriers to connection is the cultural importance we place on ‘going it alone.’ Somehow, we’ve come to equate success with not needing anyone. Many of us are willing to extend a helping hand, but we’re very reluctant to reach out for help when we need it ourselves. It’s as if we’ve divided the world into ‘those who offer help’ and ‘those who need help.’ The truth is that we are both.”
We are both. I know in my head that I need others, and I’ve experience the beauty and connection that comes with this kind of vulnerable need of the other. But my heart doesn’t know how to reconcile the hurt or the change that comes its way.
One of the hardest things for me about living in New York has been the never-ending transience of the city. It takes me a while to warm up and trust people, and by the time I do, they move away. And yet, Jesus was only in ministry for 3 years with these guys before his resurrection and ascension. He knew time was limited, but he still risked vulnerability to a group of guys that let him down, a lot.
Here in this story, we see that his besties fell asleep on him. And they do it again later in Matthew, where Jesus is visibly in deep grief.
‘Then Jesus went with them to a garden called Gethsemane and told his disciples, “Stay here while I go over there and pray.” Taking along Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, he plunged into an agonizing sorrow. Then he said, “This sorrow is crushing my life out. Stay here and keep vigil with me.”
Again, we see Jesus separates from the group to pray and he brings Peter, James, and John (the sons of Zebedee) to pray with him. He even gives them more detail than he gave the group – he’s inviting them into his sorrow. And they fall asleep. 3 times.
And yet, Jesus continues to invite them into his vulnerability. I find it interesting that there’s a distinction between the 3 and the 12. Drew talked previously about discernment, and I can’t help but wonder if this is an example of that at work. In the same way that Jesus is not divulging all of the information to everyone, I believe we need to discern who we can share the most intimate moments of our lives with. There’s wisdom in discerning that not every person you grab a coffee with is worthy of your story. We need to put in the work of relationship in order to earn the right to share in vulnerability with each other.
Let’s continue on in our story. Look what happens:
As he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. Two men, Moses and Elijah, appeared in glorious splendor, talking with Jesus. They spoke about his departure, which he was about to bring to fulfillment at Jerusalem. Peter and his companions were very sleepy, but when they became fully awake, they saw his glory and the two men standing with him. As the men were leaving Jesus, Peter said to him, “Master, 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 he was saying.) While he was speaking, a cloud appeared and covered them, and they were afraid as they entered the cloud. A voice came from the cloud, saying, “This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to him.” When the voice had spoken, they found that Jesus was alone. The disciples kept this to themselves and did not tell anyone at that time what they had seen.
What an exciting and wild end to this prayer time! Jesus’ appearance literally changes on this mountain, and when his buds wake up – they see Moses and Elijah talking with Jesus! And if that isn’t enough – the very voice of God comes out of the cloud saying, “This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to him.”
These guys got to be a witness to what God was working in Jesus! They were there with him as God was literally changing his physical appearance. Imagine if Jesus had gone up to pray alone and came back with news of this fantastic experience with the Father. If I were a disciple, I’d like not believe him – I’d think he’d fallen asleep and had a crazy dream. BUT Jesus has his friends with him. They get to be part of the story God is telling through Jesus.
We don’t know what the day-to-day conversations of Jesus were, but if I were Peter, I think this is the story I would bring up anytime Jesus expressed any fear or concern or worry or anxiety. Like, “hey Jesus, I know you’re anxious right now and not sure if you can do this, but REMEMBER that one time God literally spoke through the clouds?”
And there lies the beauty of community in prayer. When we are honest and vulnerable with those closest to us, and we invite them into our deepest fears and our suffering, we have built in testimony and witness to the story God is telling in our very own life.
I love what Drew said in a staff meeting recently. He said: “It’s important that we find forgiveness in Jesus, but healing happens in community.”
In our suffering, our community can carry us.
In our joy, our community can celebrate with us.
In our mundane day-to-day, our community can encourage us.
In my reflection this week on my community, present and past, I am really grateful for the countless people who have stood in my corner with me. I’m thankful for the people I’ve lost touch with but who were meaningful in my story for a season. I’m thankful for the people who live all over the country and pick up my occasional phone calls to catch up. I’m thankful for those who have stood with me in this most recent season of my life – the ones who have loved me and allowed me the space to question and doubt and to have fun. Even in the darkness of the wilderness, there has been such light shining through my people – even when I couldn’t see/identify it in the moment. So to those reading, I hope you know who you are. Thank you for being Good News to me.