When I was in my 20’s, I prided myself on a very peculiar “sense” I developed. I could tell, I felt, whether or not friends were going to get married when I first saw them together with their new special person. Eventually, I had a pretty good tally of predicted weddings eventually. During this time, I was fascinated by the differences between relationships that worked out versus those that came and went. So, I would watch my friends and make my predictions (silently, of course), but I also asked folks who were well matched in their marriages already about their experience when they first met.

I was studying and working in biology and genetics at the time, so guess I was applying my science-focused brain to my social reality and I developed a hypothesis of what makes a good match, which is a good, lasting relationship feels different from other relationships from the beginning and that difference is that it feels easier. Not necessarily more romantic, or exciting, or “good on paper”, but easier. In these relationships, in my very unscientific research, folks felt they could be more honest. Or perhaps there was less pining, less jealousy, or less wondering about their new person.

It’s as if the existential angst of dating and life gets softened when you meet the person you end up building a life with. I certainly don’t mean it’s happily ever after with the right person. Marriage is hard, no doubt. But at the beginning, what I noticed is that the future spouse or lifelong friend or friends with whom we build our lives help us soften because its easier to be ourselves with them than other folks in our lives. That was the mark of a relationship I’d look for and when I saw it, I’d happily wait for my wedding invitation with private and perhaps a bit smug assurance.

So, this Valentine’s weekend, I hope you share some easy time with your friends, family, and whoever has a special role in your life. Of course, that ease is not always there even in our solid relationships. But when we do find our way back to each other, as we do, it’s that easiness that is so precious to regain.

Talking about love is appropriate on Valentine’s weekend, of course, but it is also Transfiguration Sunday when our three disciples are witness to Jesus’ glory before all that is to come. And there’s no doubt that this moment of glory was also flooded with love. However, our disciples didn’t quite know what to do with all the light, love, and wonder. So, in response, what does Peter do? He wants to build tents, bless his heart.

There’s debate about why Peter says this. What makes the most sense to me is that he was trying to make sense of his experience within the context of the world he knew, which is what we all do. One of the major festivals of the Jewish tradition is the Festival of Sukkot. It’s a festival of thanksgiving for the harvest and a also remembrance of the people’s time in the desert. During Sukkot, folks build tents to live outside in for the week. So perhaps Peter, witnessing Jesus with Moses and Elijah with all this love and light, understands that this is a moment of thanksgiving. And what do we do at times of thanksgiving? Build tents, of course.

Regardless of Peter’s motivation, what we know is that Peter feels compelled to do something. He’s witness to God’s amazing presence and he’s got to do something. Lots of us are do-er sorts of people, so this makes some sense. But it doesn’t seem to be the thing God wants. God wants them to listen and attend to Jesus.

God wants their presence, attention, and relationship. God is not asking for their action to make themselves relevant to the moment, because they already are, but perhaps Peter doesn’t think so. “It is good we are here,” says Peter. It’s like he’s witness to this splendor and wondering why he’s there … until he thinks about Sukkot and says, “Oh! I get it. It’s good that I am here because I can have a purpose, too. If I build you tents, then I’ll have something of value to add to this situation.”

However, God just wants their presence. Jesus asked them to come and not do a thing, not even share the good news afterwards. So, there’s nothing to do other than to soften into the moment, which ultimately terrifies them. Perhaps they are shaking with God’s voice, but it may not be that simple. Afterall, love, intimacy, and deep belonging are beautiful but can be terrifying because they melt the defenses we use to protect our little hearts. The softening of our masks is ultimately good and holy, but it also leaves our soft hearts exposed. Sometimes we prefer to be busy over vulnerable.

Just like any loving relationship, our relationship with God is one that we are asked to soften into, which allows us to be ever more ourselves as we soften. God doesn’t want us to be anxious about our belonging. Our relevance, inclusion, blessedness, and our place in this world are all given as gifts to every living being.

Of course, we are called into action as members of Christ’s body to be Christ in this world. But do we know first and foremost that God loves us into every nook and cranny of our complicated selves and our complicated world? And do we respond to this love with our hearts and minds and bodies fully at ease, softening into the wide-open space that God makes for us? And then do we act as Christ in the world from that spacious place of wholeness and love for the sake of the world? I don’t, the disciples don’t, but that is the invitation!

The next time Jesus is on a mountain top, it is a very different experience. It will be on the cross. Between this mountain and the next in the gospel story and in our lives is the time of Lent, which is meant to be a time of spiritual renewal. We sometimes think of Lent as a time of guilt when we have to give something up because we’ve been bad or because God wants us to stop indulging ourselves. However, I wonder if we can approach Lent like these disciples who are encouraged to soften into relationship. And perhaps we could and should give up our “tent building” or whatever it is that we do to try to prove our value or in some way avoid an intimate, loving relationship with God.

This softness, this ease that you may or may not feel in relationship with God could be something to notice throughout Lent. God doesn’t want our avoidance, but our presence. We are asked to be present to our lives, each other, creation, and God. The softness we feel or don’t feel on a day-to-day or hour-to-hour basis might be a gauge to help us wonder about our presence with God. When you get quiet and notice your inner state, what do you feel? Is there tightness? Is there anxiety about proving your adequacy and value? Or is there a sense of spaciousness and receptiveness to God’s love? I encourage us to bring any tightness you notice into prayer. None of us are building tents these days, but all of us have ways of avoiding love, intimacy, truth, feelings, or our needs.  We avoid all sorts of things.

We are all bound up inside to one degree or another. But God continues to woo us into soft, spacious pools of gushy love through which Christ’s love for all can powerfully flow. This process isn’t all that different than that softening we feel when we fall in love with our person or find our forever friends. Love helps us soften. That is a hallmark of love with people and with God. And this is the invitation and the promise to you. 

AMEN