THIS paragraph tells the story of the Transfiguration of our Lord. We need to give careful attention to the place of the Transfiguration in the scheme of our Lord's work as King. The question of first importance for us now is; What did this Transfiguration of the King mean to the three disciples who were permitted to witness it; and, subsequently, to those who, through them, heard the story? It is hardly overstating the case to declare that the glory of the Mount of Transfiguration rests upon Peter's two epistles. It was there, "On the Holy Mount," as he termed it, that he heard the voice and saw the glory, the meanings of which to him at the moment, were hidden, but the value of which came to him in subsequent years, so that when he looked back through Resurrection, and the mystery of the Cross, to the mountain, he spoke of it as the "Holy Mount," and constructed his first letter around the twofold impression which that Mount made upon him-the impression which he describes as that of the Coming, and the Power, or more accurately, the Presence and Power of Jesus Christ.

In order to answer this question as to what the Transfiguration meant to these men, there are certain matters as to its setting which we must take time to notice.

First of all it is necessary to take the final verse of the previous chapter, which we have not yet considered, but which is intimately related to all that has preceded it. The King was talking to that group of men, so afraid of the Cross, of whom Peter had been the spokesman, when He said, " Verily I say unto you, There are some of them that stand here, who shall in no wise taste of death, till they see the Son of Man coming in His Kingdom."

There are many interpretations of the meaning of these words. There are those who believe that He meant to say that, in the age of Gospel preaching, and in the victories which should follow such preaching, man would live to see the vindication of His claim, and would live to see the coming of His Kingdom ; and there is certainly an element of truth in that view.

There are those who say His reference to His coming was a reference to the destruction of Jerusalem; and here again we certainly have part of the truth. There is a sense in which there is no doubt He was present at that judgment of the city, as He is present, and presiding over, all the events of human history. It may be that there was some more special sense in which He came at that destruction, but surely none of us is prepared to say that He came into His Kingdom in the hour in which Jerusalem-"beautiful in elevation, the joy of the whole earth," over which He had wept tears of sincere pity, even though He had pronounced its doom-was swept away. As a matter of fact He had come into His Kingdom before then.

There is yet another interpretation of the meaning of these words. It is that His reference was to that which immediately follows in the chronicle, the unveiling of the established Kingdom in microcosm in the Transfiguration scene upon the sacred Mount. While that is also true, I do not think it exhausts the meaning. When He said, "Some of them that stand here," He was not distinguishing between certain of His disciples and others of them; but between His disciples and outsiders. From Mark we learn that by this time He was speaking to the multitudes He had called, as well as to His disciples (Mar 8:34). His disciples saw Him come into His Kingdom, or as Mark puts it, "the Kingdom of God come with power," through the Cross interpreted by the Resurrection. (See Rom 1:4.) Of this they had the final indisputable proof when power came to them at Pentecost. "The Kingdom of the Son of His Love," began at the Ascension of our Lord. Since then He has been reigning. If this be recognized we may turn to the immediate revelation of His Kingship as found in the Transfiguration.

Let us observe the setting a little carefully. Jesus took three representative men to the Mount, and was transfigured before them. They were dazed and overwhelmed. Peter said, "It is good for us to be here; if Thou wilt, I will make three tabernacles; one for Thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elijah." He was immediately rebuked by the encompassing quiet, and by the voice which said, "This is My Beloved Son in Whom I am well pleased: hear ye Him." And the whole scene passed.

Now carefully notice these words; "And as they were coming down from the mountain, Jesus commanded them, saying, Tell tie vision to no man until the Son of Man be risen from the dead." "And His disciples asked Him, saying, Why then say the scribes that Elijah must first come?" There does not at first seem to be any connection whatever between His charge, "Tell the vision to no man, until the Son of Man be risen from the dead," and their question. But there is a very intimate connection between their question and the promise He made to them at Caesarea Philippi, that they should see His Kingdom. That question was their expression of the wonder that filled their hearts as they walked back down the mountain side, after all that they had seen. The glory had all vanished. There He was, walking by their side, the same Jesus Who had taken them up to the Mount, and there broke upon them the consciousness of the fact that they had seen the Son of Man in His Kingdom. Then they remembered the teaching of their own Scriptures, that before the Messianic Kingdom would be set up, there must come a Forerunner, and resuming the old conversation, they said, "Why then say the scribes that Elijah must first come?" If this strange glory upon the mountain that blinded us reveals the coming of the Son of Man in His Kingdom, how is it that Elijah has not come? Mark His answer. "Elijah indeed cometh, and shall restore all things." Then He added, "Elijah is come already, and they knew him not, but did unto him whatsoever they would." Then it was made clear to them that He was referring to John the Baptist. Thus He declared that by the coming of John the Baptist the promise of Elijah had been fulfilled, and that what they had seen was the prophetic vision of the Son of Man in the Kingdom. No doubt when He said, "Till they see the Son of Man coming in His Kingdom," He referred to what was about to take place not on the Mount when they should behold Him in His glory, but in all that was to follow His descent from the Mount.

Let us now consider, first, the natural place of the Transfiguration in the mission o Jesus; secondly, the Transfiguration as an unveiling of the coming Kingdom; and, finally, the message of the Transfiguration to us.

In considering the natural place of the Transfiguration in the mission of the King, we must see the place of the Transfiguration in the history of the Person of Jesus. On that Transfiguration Mount the human life of Christ reached its crowning glory. This is very largely, and very often overlooked. We may state the process of the human life of Jesus in three words; innocence, holiness, perfected glory. Innocence, the primal condition of human nature, not only not having sinned, but being without sin. There are no innocent children born to-day in the full sense in which the childhood of Jesus was innocent. He was absolutely sinless in nature; but it was necessary to the perfecting of that nature that He should face temptation. Human nature is never perfect until it has chosen for itself the right, as against the wrong which comes by allurement from without. A holy man is infinitely greater than an innocent man. A holy man is not merely a man in whose nature there is no sin. A holy man is a man who has looked into its face and said no. "He hath been in all points tempted like as we are, ' yet without sin." He was victorious over every form of temptation that the enemy brought to bear upon Him. When He came to the Mount of Transfiguration, what the disciples saw was not the glory of Deity, not. the glory of heaven shining upon Him; it was the outshining of the glory of humanity which had passed from innocence, through holiness, to absolute and final perfection. He was metamorphosed before them, and the glory they saw was the glory of perfected humanity. Just as there is a gulf that seems to be impassable between the newly born body of an infant child and the mature strength of a full-grown man, so there is an even more impassable gulf between that full grown strength of a mature man and the complete realization in that man of the fuller meaning of his own spiritual life, as it masters the body, flames through it, and flashes into beauty, as matter and spirit merge into a common radiance of loveliness. We know nothing of that because there is sin in us; but in Christ we see God's ideal Man, absolutely sinless, innocent, growing up to be holy; and at last, with all the temptations of life and of service overcome, there came a moment when, without death, He was metamorphosed, and ready for passing into a spiritual existence, carrying with Him His material body, changed, so that it was ready for life in the heaven of God. The Transfiguration was not the proof of Deity; it was the proof of absolute, essential, and victorious humanity. It was a revelation of what He is going to restore to us, if we trust Him; but we shall never reach our transfiguration but through His death and life. That is what the second advent means, that is what the changing of the bodies of our humiliation that they may be conformed to the body of His glory means. There is no hope for anything of that kind to any man who does not know Christ as his Saviour. This is the meaning of the Transfiguration in its relation to the Person of Jesus.

Now notice that the perfection of the Person was necessary for the perfect King. We have seen the King, His Person, His propaganda, and now we are coming to His Passion. But before we come to the Passion we must have the perfection of the Person.

That final perfection of humanity was reached in the fact of Transfiguration. But that perfection does not bring Him to the Throne. He cannot so come into His Kingdom. The Kingdom of God does not come with power so. Presently from that Mount of Transfiguration we shall go down the mountain side with the King, and along the rough and rugged road to the Cross. He descended out of heaven, the Son of God, and became incarnate, and in human life He won. Now for the second time He set His face towards the ways of men; and He Who came at first to share their life, from the Transfiguration Mount passed down to share their death. He talked in the glory of the mountain with Moses and Elijah, of His decease, His exodus; and presently He set His face towards it, and for the second time turned His back upon heaven, in order that, as perfected Man, He might share in the mystery of human death, and so perfect many sons for glory.

If that be the place occupied by the Transfiguration in the mission of Jesus, let us observe how in that glory those men had unveiled before them the order of the coming Kingdom. The Kingdom had not yet come. It was coming, and these men saw its order. In the flashing glory of that night scene they saw what it would be like. The Kingdom was revealed to them in that hour upon the mountain. What they saw, corroborated all He had said to them in that Caesarea Philippi conversation eight days before.

They saw Him in the glory of His perfected humanity, and they heard His converse concerning the exodus He should accomplish. When, dazed and mystified, they suggested the perpetuation of the glory as there seen, the voice from heaven recalled them to obedience to what the Son said. The last thing He had said to them was that He must go to the Cross. Thus, though they did not apprehend the meaning then, they came afterwards to the understanding of the fact that the Perfect Son could only bring the Kingdom with Power by the way of His Cross.

As the vision passed, "they saw no Man save Jesus only." Then, mystified while yet illumined, they followed Him in His descent from the mountain-humbling Himself-and on to Death-and through Death to Resurrection and through Resurrection to Ascension and Coronation-and so they saw " The Son of man coming in His Kingdom," "The Kingdom of God come with Power."

IN this section we see the perfect King in the midst of His imperfect Kingdom. He was on His way to that mighty work through which alone He could come into possession of the Kingdom, and as we accompany Him we see the difficulties confronting Him, and observe His methods in the presence of such difficulties.

To-day the King has come into His Kingdom. He is appointed and anointed as God's King. The Kingdom is not yet perfected, but His Kingship is established. The antagonism still continues; the conflict is as severe as ever, if it be subtler. The terms of discipleship are not changed. There can be no fellowship with Christ in the perfecting of His Kingdom save by the way of the Cross. Nevertheless the light of coming victory still flashes upon the way.

This paragraph naturally divides itself into two parts. We have first, in verses fourteen to twenty-one, the account of the coming of the King from the mountain into the consciousness of the age in which He lived, the age which continues until now. In this picture we see Him coming down from the Mount, where, in radiant glory, He had been revealed as the prepared King; and now all about Him were the facts and forces of the age. In verses twenty-two to twenty-seven (Mat 17:22-27), we have the picture of the King and His disciples. We see Jesus gathering to Him His own disciples, and talking to them in view of the age in which their ministry was to be exercised.

Let us first consider our Lord's characterization of the age as it is found in the twenty-seventh verse; "O faithless and perverse generation, how long shall I be with you?" In these words we have a revelation of our Lord's consciousness of the condition of affairs in the midst of which He found Himself. There was no thunder in the words, but rather the wail of a great sorrow; "O faithless and perverse generation, how long shall I be with you? how long shall I bear with you?" His use of the word "generation" shows that He was speaking of a far wider circle than that of His disciples. He was referring to the whole condition of things in the midst of which He found Himself. And more, These words of Jesus Christ, spoken in local circumstances, come reverberating through the centuries, with perpetual application. If Jesus stood in our cities to-day He would say, "O faithless and perverse generation." "Faithless," that is, lacking faith; a generation that cannot be provoked to faith. "How long shall I be with you?" In other words, Jesus said, For three years I have exercised My ministry amongst you, healing and blessing as I have gone, teaching the underlying principles of God's Kingdom. How long do you need persuading to faith? How many evidences do you want before you rise into an attitude of confidence? What proofs are sufficient to provoke you to believe?

Moreover, the age was not only "faithless;" it was "perverse;" which does not mean merely that it was rebellious, but that it was a generation twisted, and contorted; a generation in which things were out of the regular; a generation distorted in its thinking, in its feeling, in its action; a generation unable to think straightly, to feel thoroughly, to act with rectitude; a generation in which everything was wrong.

The use of the two words, "faithless and perverse," indicates a sequence. A generation that loses its faith, becomes distorted, out of shape. A people who live exclusively upon the basis of the things seen, form untrue estimates; their thinking is distorted, their feeling is out of the straight, their activity is iniquity, which simply means crookedness. That was Christ's estimate of His .own age. And the lament of the Lord's wail is this, "How long shall I be with you? how long shall I bear with you?" What do you need to provoke you to faith, in order that, out of your faith may come the straightening of all your life in thought, and feeling, and action? So our Lord's conception of human conditions is revealed in this lament over His age.

What gave rise to this cry of the King as He came down from the mountain into the valley?

Let us now look at the immediate things. We see first a father with his boy, and the picture is yet again a microcosm in which the whole fact is revealed in one single case. This father brought his boy to Jesus, and he said, "Lord, have mercy on my son; for he is a lunatic, and suffereth grievously." The Authorized Version is preferable here. The Revised "epileptic" is simply a medical explanation of the signs following. The Greek word is lunatic. He may have been epileptic, but let us leave it as it is without attempting to account for the condition. The deepest tragedy of the story is found in the words; "I brought him to Thy disciples, and they could not cure him." Luke chronicles something here which Matthew has omitted, the fact that the man used a very remarkable expression when he came to Jesus. He said, "Have mercy . . . for he is mine only child," that is my only begotten son, exactly the same word which is used of Jesus in another connection.

In a moment we see the vision; two personalities confronting each other, the Only begotten Son of the Father, and the only begotten son of man. The son of man was demon-possessed, and nothing in the age was equal to setting him free. It was the age of culture, of refinement, of learning, of religion; and in the midst of the Hebrew people all the forces of light and learning were at work, but there was nothing that would touch that boy. At last they brought him to the disciples of Jesus, but they were not able to deal with him. That is the picture of the age. The King, ready for His Kingdom, passed down the mountain into the valley, and found Himself confronted by that helpless boy, by that helpless father, by that helpless age, by those helpless disciples. Then there broke out of His heart the great wail, "O faithless and perverse generation, how long shall I be with you? how long shall I bear with you?"

That is a true picture of the condition of things to-day. We may take every one of these points, and find them being fulfilled in this particular age. We still have the demon-possessed sons of men. We still have the absolute helplessness of the most modern philosophy to set them free from the demons that possess them. And alas, the Church is sometimes as helpless as the rest! Many Christian people are unable to cast out demons in this age; and it seems as though the Lord continues until now saying, "How long shall I bear with you?" What more do you need to provoke you to that living faith which lies at the back of all endeavour that is uplifting and ennobling?

But now let us observe the action of the King. He said to the father, "Bring him hither to Me." Oh the majesty of that word of Jesus! What confidence He had in His own ability! The boy was brought to Him, past the incompetent teachers of the age, past the feeble and faltering disciples, and it was but a few moments before He gave the boy back to his father, healed.

When the gracious deed was done, the disciples came to the Lord, or the Lord gathered the disciples about Him, and they said, "Why could not we cast it out?" Would that the Church would give time to ask that question. Then the Lord would say the same thing that He said to these men, "Because of your little faith." If these men had been discussing the question in an annual religious assembly they would probably have come to a very different conclusion. They would have decided that they were unable to cast out the demon because of the difficulties of the surroundings, because of the criticism with which the air was filled; for undoubtedly they were in the presence of men who were always watching them keenly. Or perhaps they would have accounted for it by the fact that this was a very peculiar case, one far more subtle and complex than any they had touched before. But Jesus said, "Because of your little faith." Perhaps this unbelief began at Caesarea Philippi, there at the parting of the ways, when Peter being the spokesman of the rest, had said, in the presence of the Cross; "That be far from Thee I"

From that time they had been afraid; they had been at a little distance from Him; they had held back; there had crept into their heart insidiously, unconsciously, questioning about Himself. They were not quite so sure of Him as they had been. They had thought that His method was to be purely educational, or that His method was to be a method of policy; but this rough and vulgar Cross, with blood, and shame, and suffering, had filled them with doubt. Then these men who were afraid, and who were discounting their Lord-it may have been almost unconsciously, but quite positively-came face to face with a demon-possessed boy, and they could not cast him out because of their unbelief. Lack of faith in the imperial and Divine Person of Jesus is paralysis in the presence of the world's need, and the world's agony. We may reduce our thinking about Jesus to the level upon which we attempt to get rid of the supernatural mysteries that surround His birth and His being, but when we do so we inevitably paralyze our power to deal with demon-possessed men and women. Degrade Christ in thought by a. hair's breadth, and our faith is weakened. Be afraid of Him, afraid to press after Him, even though the pathway be rough, afraid lest He be mistaken in His estimates and thinking; and, in that moment, we have lost power to deal with demon-possessed children.

In the last half of the paragraph we have our Lord's teaching of the disciples. He repeated the very thing they had questioned and had feared. He took them back to the point where their faith in Him had weakened and faltered. "While they abode in Galilee, Jesus said unto them, The Son of Man shall be delivered up into the hands of men; and they shall kill Him, and the third day He shall be raised up. And they were exceeding sorry." How long that quiet time and that teaching lasted we do not know. It is certain that for a time He stayed in Galilee, and taught His disciples, insisting upon the necessity for the Cross and the issue of Resurrection. Now mark the impression He produced-"And they were exceeding sorry." That sorrow was a. proof of their lack of sympathy with Him. That sounds a strange and contradictory thing to say. We always thought sorrow was sympathy, and sympathy was sorrow. In this case sorrow was lack of sympathy. To the minds of the disciples there was a perpetual veiling of victory by suffering. During the months after Caesarea Philippi, Jesus was perpetually talking about His Cross, and He never did so without declaring His Resurrection. He said He would fall into the hands of men, and they would kill Him, and the third day He would be raised up again, and "they were exceeding sorry." Sorry that He should be raised up? That is unthinkable; and the only way to account for their sorrow is to recognize that they were so confused with the thought of the Cross, that they never heard the declaration of Resurrection, or else interpreted His story of Resurrection as Martha did when He said to her about her brother, "Thy brother shall rise again," and she said, "I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection at the last day." And perhaps these men, too, thought that when He talked of rising on the third day it was figurative. These men were unable to look through the Cross to the Resurrection. After this miracle at the foot of the mountain, they were still in the same condition, unbelieving.

There is a strange and beautiful story closely related to this. "And when they were come to Capernaum, they that received the half shekel came to Peter, and said, Doth not your Teacher pay the half shekel?" The negative form of the question shows that it was a question of criticism, a question of men who thought they had some occasion of complaint against Jesus. Peter replied to their inquiry by saying, Yes. And when they came into the house, Jesus, knowing what had happened outside, anticipated him, by asking him a question. The half shekel was not a Roman tax, but a Temple tax for every man, whether rich or poor; it was the redemption money. Under the Divine economy it had a proper place and significance; but gradually, by the tradition of men, it had become an annual payment exacted by the authorities. And they came to Peter and asked him if his Master paid it. And he said, Yes. Christ said to him, "What thinkest thou, Simon? The Icings of the earth, from whom do they receive toll or tribute? from their sons, or from strangers?" And the answer was correct. "From strangers." Then said Jesus, "Therefore the sons are free." He was reminding Peter of Caesarea Philippi. There Peter had said, "Thou are the Christ, the Son of the living God." Now Christ said to him, This half shekel is the payment of the subjects of the King, and you have said that I am the Son. When you confessed that, you did not quite understand the dignity and glory of the fact, for now you say that I pay this half shekel. You must have recognized that there is no claim on Me to pay it, if you had understood your own declaration, and the revelation of the Mount. It is for you to pay this because you are the strangers, the subjects, the people under the rule of the King. I am the Son.

"But, lest we cause them to stumble;" lest we put a stumbling-block in the way of these men that they may not understand, you and I will pay this together. "Go thou to the sea, cast a hook." That is the only occasion in the New Testament where that mode of fishing is referred to. "Cast a hook." Only one fish is needed. And he did it, and found a shekel. Not half a shekel-piece, for Peter and Jesus were together in this matter. "Thou shalt find a shekel; that take, and give unto them for Me and thee." Thus the King brought Himself to the place of submission in order that others might not be caused to stumble. He put Himself into fellowship with Peter. Peter, you must all pay the shekel, but I will pay it with you. You must take this place of submission; I take it side by side with you. In the commonplace of life I am with you, just as I was in the glory of the Mount, where all My Kingliness was manifested; just as I will be with you in the midst of the need of the age.

And so it would seem that our Lord was leading Peter and the rest back to the faith in Him which they lacked, and from lack of which some of their number, left in the valley, had been unable to cope with the difficulty which presented itself.

The first application of this story, as ever, is a simple one. We cannot exhaust the value of any of these stories in the day in which they happened, or in the circumstances in the midst of which we find ourselves in imagination. We must see Jesus standing in the age. He is standing in this age now. Still He is saying, "O faithless and perverse generation." Still He is saying, "Bring him to Me." But we cannot do it if we have lost Him in any measure, if our confidence in Him is not all that it was, and all that it ought to be. If we place Him among other sons of men, one among many of the teachers of the nations, of the leaders of men, then we can no more take a demon-possessed boy to Him than to Buddha, or to Confucius, or to Mahomet. It is only when He is to us mystery of all mysteries the greatest; the "altogether Lovely" as well as the Living One, not less than the portraiture of the New Testament, but incomparably greater, because John was right when he wrote, "There are also many other things which Jesus did, the which if they should be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself would not contain the books that should be written." It is only when that vision of the Christ fills our souls, and that conception of Him is the rock-foundation of our confidence, that we can hope to cast out demons in His name. In the midst of a great deal that troubles the heart, if we have that Christ, we can look up in His face and say, "Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief."