Fourth Sunday of Lent

Read Mark 9:2-10.

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter, James, and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white.

Mark 9:2-3

The details of the Transfiguration are both straightforward and staggering. Jesus and three disciples go up a mountain to pray.

As Jesus prays, his appearance changes. He becomes visibly radiant as if the light of heaven shines out of him. Then, two ancient biblical figures, Moses and Elijah, appear and talk with him.

Finally, a cloud covers them, and the disciples became frightened. A voice comes out of the cloud and says, "This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!" (v. 7). Then, suddenly, the disciples find themselves alone with Jesus again.

This experience stresses two essential truths for our journey in the kingdom of God. First, as Christ followers we need mountaintop experiences to keep our discipleship fresh, vital, and alive. The eternal realm, the hidden dimension of God's transforming presence, penetrates our earthly reality and is always available to us. We need to regularly open ourselves to this divine reality so that our lives also glow with God's presence and power. If we have never experienced an encounter like this, we may want to reexamine those spiritual practices of solitude, prayer, and worship.

Second, the Transfiguration reminds us that mountaintop experiences are not ends in and of themselves. Their importance lies in where they lead us. Immediately after Jesus is transfigured, he comes down from the mountaintop into the valley of human need and suffering. He brings healing to a child suffering from seizures. In that moment, he translates his spiritual experience into compassionate action. For Jesus, coming down from the mountain is as important as going up the mountain.

Let us take time to ponder this truth. As followers of Jesus, we are invited to bring the light of our mountaintop experiences into the darkness of our pain-filled world. Sometimes we don't want to look at the pain and misery around us—at home, at work, among our neighbors and friends. After all, we live in a culture that works to avoid or ignore others' suffering. But we need to be sharply countercultural. Rather than avoiding them, we need to engage intentionally with those who suffer. We can make new beginnings this Lent by connecting with those who are hurting and by offering them the healing beam of God's presence.