We hunger to see God clearly. We want proof, a moment when sorrow is washed away and everything makes sense. The Transfiguration gives us that — a dazzling glimpse of who Jesus really is — and then promptly asks us to get down the mountain. It meets our longing for certainty and confronts our unwillingness to follow a Savior who must also suffer.

In Matthew 17:1–9, Mark 9:2–10, and Luke 9:28–36, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up a high place. His face and clothes shine; Moses and Elijah appear and speak with him. Peter, startled, offers to make tents for them. A bright cloud overshadows them and God’s voice affirms Jesus as his Son and commands the disciples to listen. Mark and Matthew include the instruction not to tell anyone until after the Son of Man is raised; Luke uniquely notes they were speaking about Jesus’ “departure” (his coming death and resurrection). The story does not appear in John’s Gospel.

This moment peels back the curtain: Jesus is more than a wise teacher — he is the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets, endorsed by the Father. Yet the conversation is about his impending departure, tying glory to suffering. That tension is the point. The mountain vision is not an escape; it’s confirmation and commissioning. God’s declaration both comforts and obliges — “This is my Son; listen to him.” The weight here is enormous: to see Jesus in glory should harden our resolve to follow him even into the valley.

So how do we live this today? Start by practicing a brief “mountaintop” habit: this morning, read the Transfiguration (Matthew 17 or Mark 9 or Luke 9), sit in silence for three minutes, and ask, “What is Jesus saying to me?” Write one clear, small response (a single sentence) — perhaps to speak the truth in love, to forgive, to accept a painful responsibility. Carry that sentence with you as the day’s guide. When the ordinary grind or hardship comes, remember the cloud and the voice: grace confirms his identity; our job is to listen and follow, even when the path descends.