Matthew 17:1-8 –  Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became bright as light. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will set up three tents here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they raised their eyes, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.

Pastors, have you ever gone back and looked or listened to one of your old sermons? With the internet, thoughts that may have come out of a 4 a.m. sprint 10 years ago are forever preserved for anyone to hear. Go further back in your filing cabinet, and you may be able to pull up sermons from your first congregations, or even during seminary.

What is that experience like? Does your face grimace at insights you thought were so profound but were actually short sighted? Does your heart sink looking at theological principles you have long abandoned? Did you say things out of reaction to particular dramas in your congregation that you wish you could take back now?

Maybe it’s just me, but it is a little bit like looking at old photo albums and chuckling at the fashion choices made decades ago. Except wearing those weird-looking pants weren’t stamped with proximity to the Word of God.

What I find incredibly comforting about the gospels and the book of Acts is just how much Peter allows himself to look like a fool throughout these sacred stories. Pages upon pages have been written upon the significance and symbolism of Peter’s reaction to Jesus’ transfigured self along with the Hebrew Scripture superheroes. What is striking to me from a narrative standpoint, however, is just how random and bewildered his words are, as if he was experiencing something so overwhelming that he just said the first thoughts that came from his mouth. N.T. Wright once offered this as proof of the story’s veracity, because what Peter says feels too human and messy to be made up.

Sometimes, both the words and actions of pastors aren’t as profoundly rooted in God’s Word as we would like to imagine. Sometimes – or probably many times – we experience Christ’s glowing face in front of us, and all we can blurt out is, “Hey, want to set up some tents?”

Except, of course, that is not the end of Peter’s story. Peter ends up indeed being one of the Rocks of the early Church, whose words led to hundreds getting baptized in one day, and an entire movement of Jesus followers. It seemed important for the gospel writers – perhaps even Peter himself – that all aspects of Peter’s journey were depicted in what followers of this Jesus movement would pass down, both his fumblings and his successes. How better else to show that God was by his side all along the way?

Similarly, reading our old cringey sermons may in fact be the blessings we need at this moment in our journey. They can serve as time-stamped markers of our own pathways of growth, revealing to us just how far we have come from. They can humble us, remind us that we did not, in fact, know everything, and perhaps we do not know everything today. They can also, when we inevitably find words that still hold up, instill gratitude in us, celebrating that, despite everything we were going through, that we were able to say something that impacted real lives, with words that a grieving father needed to hear at that moment, or move a community to be courageous and take action.

Ultimately, those old sermons, maybe especially the bad ones, can remind us just how far God has moved in our lives, just how much grace has intervened in spite of our best efforts, just how much the Spirit has not let us go. Because we do see more clearly now, because we have grown, because we would say things differently, because we are not the same person we were 10, 20, 30 years ago.

When I reflect on the thousand tiny miracles that brought me from that cringey sermon to where I am now, I cannot help but just throw my hands in the air and send out a prayer of thanks and praise to God.

And maybe chuckle a little. I mean, look at those pants.