(Keli voice) “I’ve got a secret. Who wants to know my secret?”

In my group of friends, when we would be playing a game of some sort, my friend Keli would usually declare her intention to sweep the board and win the game (either that or do something very cruel to one of us fellow players) by saying those very words. I’m not sure where the tradition came from; probably from her days in college. But we all learned very quickly that when Keli asked us if we wanted to know her secret, the answer was NO!

Not that it mattered. She was usually about to win anyway.

A couple of things have made me think about that lately. One is my eager anticipation to be getting together with all my friends in about a month or so. My friend Rich, who has been living in Thailand for the last 5 years, is back in the USA for a brief time and we’re all getting together to visit with him. No doubt, Keli will have a secret to share at least once while we’re together.

Two is a question asked of me about last week’s sermon text. Someone asked me about a pattern he was noticing in Mark’s version of the Jesus story, a pattern I’ve not really commented on yet, where Jesus tells the people who are recipients of his miracles to not tell anyone what he’s done for them. Scholars call this the “Messianic Secret.” Now, despite Jesus instruction to the contrary, the first thing these people do is go run around and tell everybody. Leper gets cured last week and the next thing you know, Jesus can’t travel openly anymore because of the crowds. The stars of Hollywood got nothing on this guy.

“I’ve got a secret. Who wants to know my secret?”

It seems to me that, when it comes to Jesus, everyone wants to know the secret. Of course, this is very much in keeping with Mark’s presentation of Jesus’ story. I’ve said before there is an air of mystery in Mark’s Gospel. Who really is this Jesus’ guy? Everybody wants to know.

Or do they really? Maybe the people would do better if they were like my group of friends dealing with a soon-to-be-triumphant Keli and her secrets. Because when the truth is finally revealed in all its glory, those who are witness to it almost seem to prefer ignorance to knowing.

In Mark’s Gospel, that’s essentially what happens on the mountain of the transfiguration. The people in the story, including the disciples themselves, have spent the entire first half of the Gospel wrestling with this question of Jesus’ true identity. Now Jesus takes a very select few of these wondering souls with him to the top of a mountain and gives them the answer they have sought.

Up until now, the disciples have been given clues to Jesus’ identity. Here, they get the full deal. Clothes of dazzling white. The presence of ancient prophets bearing witness to him. The voice of God from the clouds saying outright, “This is my Son!” No more mystery. There’s your answer.

And all that the three disciples can do is stand there dumbfounded. Peter stutters out something about making dwellings for Jesus and the prophets, but even Mark admits that Peter really didn’t know what he was saying. But almost as quickly as the answer is revealed, Jesus then stands alone. It’s just him, just like before.

Once again, he instructs the disciples to say nothing of what they have seen. And for the first time in Mark’s Gospel, they obey. They tell NO ONE.

“I’ve got a secret. Who wants to know my secret?”

You can almost envision Peter’s reaction when someone vocalizes their wonder at Jesus. “who is this guy anyway?” You can see Peter grabbing him by the arm and saying, “You really don’t want to know.”

Do we?

My closing illustration last week was drawn from C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia, where God is depicted as the lion Aslan. “Is he safe?” The children ask, to which they receive the reply, “No, he’s not. He’s wild. He’s fierce. He’s a lion after all.”

That is what Peter, James, and John were witness to on the mountain of the transfiguration. They saw the lion, they saw Jesus as the Son of the Most High God in all of his glory and power, and it knocked them flat in abject terror.

Just as we might feel if 500 lbs of pure muscle, teeth, and claw were to walk into this sanctuary right now. We all heard this past week about that horrible chimpanzee attack and what a 200 lbs ape could do to a person. A chimpanzee is not even a predator; it’s an omnivore. Eats both plants and meat like us. Imagine then a creature 2.5 times as large and bred for killing and what it could do to any one of us. That’s a lion for you, one of nature’s most perfect predators. Ever seen one up close? Ever looked one in the eye? If you do, you will know fear.

But the Narnians who tell the children that Aslan is not tame and safe do not leave them there. They also tell them, as I said last week, that Aslan may not be tame, but he is good. And so too is Christ. And from the mountaintop where his full majesty is revealed, Jesus goes. He comes back down the mountain and fixes his face upon Jerusalem. Fixes his journey upon the cross. The Lion goes to give up his life for the sake of those he loves. God goes to die on a cross to save his creation, to save his people, to save all of us.

“I’ve got a secret. Who wants to know my secret?”

I’m going to tell you my secret. The God who created all the universe, whose is majesty is so great that we would we driven to our knees in fear of him, dies for you. Dies to save you. Dies because he loves you. All of his power, all of his majesty, all of his glory he sets aside to die as we do and then on the third day, he rises again so that we may have life eternal. That’s my secret. And I intend to tell everybody. Amen.