We are in the middle of it all and there is work to be done.

Following the retreat at Dunkirk.

During the Battle of Britain.

While the Allies struggled to find toeholds somewhere in Europe where they could begin their counters against the evils of Nazism, Great Britain began to experience some victories in North Africa.

And in referencing those victories, Winston Churchill, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom at that point famously said, “Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.”

And that brings us to this morning’s gospel because this is the ongoing discussion of who Jesus is.

The context of this conversation begins at the start of chapter 9.

That is the beginning.

Yet, the beginning is not the whole story because we know what happens at the end, Jesus’ departure.

And the beginning of the end we might say is the Passion.

But now this is the end of the beginning.

For no longer is this just a lovely band of travelers going coast to coast along the sea of Galilee.

No longer are they just going through cities, they being the twelve with Mary and Joanna and Susanna and the crowds who followed.

This is no longer just parables and fun.

No, this is when we learn who Jesus really is and when we know who he it is because we listened to his word and now know that he must go through the cross to allow us salvation.

And chapter nine, across all of chapter nine, there is a discussion going on about Jesus’ identity.

In the beginning of the chapter, Herod asks, “who is this about whom I hear such things?”

Now, Herod was curious because he did not know what was going on.

Who is this, he asked, because folks were saying that John the Baptist had been raised from the dead or that Jesus was Elijah.

And then Jesus asks himself, “Who do the crowds think I am?”

And he gets a similar answer.

John the Baptist or Elijah or even one of the ancient prophets, the prophets before Samuel and David.

Ah.

And then Jesus asks that question not of the crowds but of the disciples.

And, after what I think might have been a pause as no other disciple spoke up, Peter uttered, “the Messiah of God.”

And they were all sworn to secrecy.

Because being the Messiah would take much sacrifice and following the Messiah would mean sacrifice as well.

The Son of Man, says Jesus, will undergo great suffering.

The Son of Man would be rejected by the elders.

The Son of Man would be killed.

And yet, also, the Son of Man would rise after three days.

Jesus tells the apostles that they will have to sacrifice much to follow him.

Some may even have to experience death before seeing God’s kingdom.

It all sounds rather harsh.

And imagine the disciples hearing this.

This is the first time they will hear of their Messiah’s demise.

This is the first time they are told with such clarity that they may never realize the kingdom they are promised until their own ends.

Tradition has it that some will be martyred; others will die without having seen the kingdom arrive in their own lifetimes.

This is a lot to hear when just a few days ago they were crossing the sea and Jesus was walking on water and now they are hearing of the struggle of his passion.

What does it mean?

Who actually is this guy?

I mean, it’s one thing to be told about what’s coming; it’s one thing to have described just who Jesus is and what it means to be Messiah, but how are the disciples supposed to internalize what the repercussions were of Jesus being God’s only son?

What did it mean to the disciples?

Just what does it mean to us?

Description is one thing.

Witnessing is another.

Eight days after Jesus allowed the truth of who he was to be known amongst the disciples, he took Peter, James, and John up the mountain to pray.

And they witnessed something amazing.

They began to pray with him.

They were on this mountain top, they had just climbed that mountain, and they settled down.

They sat.

Maybe on the ground, maybe on a rock or a stump, they sat with there elbows by their sides, their arms at ninety degree angles, palms are facing up skyward.

They pray the words of their prayers, eyes closed, they are tired, tired from climbing and walking and crowds and feeding and healing, they are tired.

Their eyes are heavy behind closed eyelids, but they do not sleep.

This is not the garden where they were unable to stay awake, not yet, at least, so they are awake but so, so tired.

And then they notice their newly identified Messiah’s face begin to change.

His clothes were dazzling and bright.

And suddenly appear Moses and Elijah.

They are speaking with Jesus, they are talking about Jesus’ departure.

Departure?

Ohh!

Now they understand.

They see Jesus in his glorious array, his shining clothes, his shining body.

They see Jesus as who he is and who he will be when Peter and James and John meet him again when they have departed themselves.

And Peter, ever industrious, ever identifying Peter wants to memorialize this place.

He wants to build dwelling places, tabernacles as the Hebrews did when they built the Temple, to memorialize this place forever.

But then maybe Peter doesn’t realize what he is saying for this is but a moment and Jesus is eternal.

A cloud then appears and just like at the baptism of Jesus the voice of God is heard.

“‘This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

And though they fear the clouds around them that carry the voice of God, they now know.

And they understand.

And they keep silent.

This is the end of the beginning.

The faith of the disciples has matured into understanding, into knowledge.

And yet the end of the beginning is not the end of the story.

Not of this morning’s gospel, at least.

Because we can talk about beginnings and ends and the ends of beginnings and the beginnings of ends, but we must never stop living, experiencing and exulting in, the very middle.

The middle, my friends, is our time.

The middle has not yet past, we are no longer babies or children or adults before the baptismal font nor is it time for our departures.

It matters not one wit if we are in the beginning of the end of our lives or the end of the beginning for we are all in one sense or another, in that middle.

And now, in this morning’s story, we witness the same for the disciples, for Peter and James and John.

They have descended the mountain where they have witnessed such beauty, where they have seen the true Christ and heard the voice of God and they are now back in the thick of it.

They descend the mountain and they are greeted by a great crowd.

Their respite is over; Peter’s booths are unbuilt.

And they tried, I just know they tried their hardest to heal that boy of his demons, but they could not.

Perhaps they were distracted by all that occurred or all that they know will occur, by beginnings and endings, to focus on healing.

I do not know and anything I say about that will be but speculation.

But I do know two things.

One, that boy was healed by Christ and two, there was still work to be done.

Rather, there is work to be done for we are and they were in the middle.

Now is the time to act as God urges us to act.

Now is the time to heal and feed and give and lift up all who would come to Christ for this is the time we know.

This is the time we know where we can impact the lives of others and ourselves in such a way to pass on the radical truth that each and every one of us is loved fully.

And though we might seem to fall short, though we may not always have always have the means to heal each other of our demons, we will never be without the power of Christ amongst us.

And through Christ, nothing remains impossible.

Friends, I do not know if we are in the beginning of the end or the end of the beginning, though I do know we can be confident we are in the middle.

We are in the middle of it all and there is work to be done.

Amen.