There are moments in life when what we thought we understood suddenly breaks open. A truth we were not ready for stands in front of us. A reality bigger than our expectations forces us to see differently. Those moments are not comfortable. They are unsettling. They change us.
This is exactly what happened to Peter, James, and John on the mountain with Jesus. They witnessed His transfiguration: His face shining like the sun, His clothes dazzling white. In that moment, the ordinary became extraordinary, and more than that, it revealed the truth of who He is.
The disciples climbed the mountain not knowing what awaited them. Mountains in the Jewish tradition are places of revelation, places where God meets His people. Think of Mount Sinai, where Moses waited six days before God spoke to him. That period of waiting was preparation, a time to be ready to receive God’s presence.
Matthew tells us that this extraordinary moment with Jesus happens after six days of walking with Jesus, learning from Him, and listening to Him. By echoing the six days of Moses, Matthew shows us that this time was preparation for the disciples. They were not yet fully ready, but the time they spent with Jesus was enough for them to witness Jesus’s appearance change as he prays, His face shines like the sun. His clothes become dazzling white.
For a moment, the disciples see what was always true: Jesus is not merely a teacher or prophet. He is the Son of God, the Word made flesh, God’s presence in our midst.
The disciples needed to see this because soon they would see Jesus arrested, beaten, and crucified. They would see him rejected and suffering. They needed to know that his suffering would not mean weakness. They needed to know that the one who would hang on the cross was still the Son of God.
Moses and Elijah appear beside Him, representing the Law and the Prophets. Everything that came before points here. The Law guides. The Prophets speak. But only in Jesus is God’s saving work fulfilled. Only in Him are sin, fear, and death faced head on.
Then a cloud covers them, and the voice of God speaks: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased. Listen to Him.”
This is the same voice heard at His baptism, affirming His identity and mission. That voice now speaks over the disciples, and over all of us. God claims us, unites us to Jesus. Our identity, our worth, and our security rest not on our circumstances but on Him.
The disciples are not inspired. They are terrified. They fall on their faces. This is not mild fear. This is the kind of fear that drops you to the ground because you realize you are standing in the presence of holiness.
And Jesus does not stand at a distance. He comes to them. He touches them. “Get up. Do not be afraid.”
This is who Jesus is. He draws near to the frightened, the uncertain, the vulnerable. The Son in radiant light kneels down and places His hand on trembling shoulders.
We live with fear too. Fear of the economy. Fear of what tomorrow brings. Fear in immigrant communities because of ICE raids. Fear of losing stability. Fear of not being enough. Fear that everything we depend on feels fragile.
Fear can paralyze. It can shrink our world. It can make us feel alone.
But fear is not the whole story.
Into that fear, God speaks. Our hope is not wishful thinking. It is grounded in what God actually does. God comes to us in His Word, speaking life where fear tries to take over
God comes to us in baptism, marking us as His own, claiming us before we could claim Him, joining us to Christ in a promise that does not collapse when the world feels unstable.
God comes to us in the Lord’s Supper, where bread and wine become His body and blood, drawing us close, strengthening us, and reminding us that fear does not have the final word.
When we gather at the table, we see it with our own eyes. We are not alone. We belong to Christ and to one another. That is why we can face a fearful world with steady hearts. Hope is not denial of reality. Hope is trusting that God is present right in the middle of it.
The disciples could not stay on the mountain. They had to go down. The glory did not remove them from reality. It sent them back into it with clearer vision.
And like the disciples we too must come down our mountains. Faith does not remove us from reality; it equips us to live within it. Jesus does not keep us on the mountain; He walks with us into our daily lives, our fears, our work, and our suffering.
The ordinary steps of our lives, our work, our prayers, our small acts of love, prepare us to recognize God’s presence when it appears and to live as witnesses of His glory.
That is what the Transfiguration does. It does not give us escape. It gives us clarity. We see who Jesus truly is. And once you see that, you cannot unsee it.
The One who shines like the sun is the One who walks toward the cross.
The One affirmed by the Father is the One who touches the afraid.
The One clothed in light is the One who steps into our darkness.
The mountain shows us His identity. The cross will show us His love. And the resurrection will show us His victory.
So when fear rises, we remember the mountain.
When suffering confuses us, we remember the glory.
When the world feels unstable, we remember who He is.
And we hear again the steady voice of Christ, not distant, but near.
“Get up. Do not be afraid.”
Amen.
