Transfigured Hearts
Beloved, let us ascend the mountain together. Let us ascend, although our feet are tired from traveling, our hearts heavy with sleep, our souls weary from the world’s incessant demands. Let us ascend. “I was glad when they said unto me, let us go up to the House of the Lord. And now our feet are standing, within your gates, O Jerusalem.” Here, in the thin air of divine encounter, we stand on holy ground, we witness a glory that defies our expectations; that explodes our carefully constructed notions of worthiness and striving.
Suddenly, we awaken. We gaze on Christ Transfigured, His face ablaze with celestial light, His garments shimmering with otherworldly radiance. In seeing His face transformed, we find ourselves transfigured. His Let us pause. Let us breathe. Let us allow the suffocating tendrils of our own expectations to fall away, withering in the presence of Love incarnate.
Oh, how long we have labored under the illusion that we must earn love! But here it is, burning before us. How long we have toiled, believing that our acceptance hinges upon our performance, our adherence to rules, our ability to present an unblemished facade to a God we are oddly eager to imagine as a stern taskmaster. But here, in the dazzling light of the Transfiguration, these misguided notions dissolve like mist before the rising sun.
Beloved, hear the Father’s voice echoing across the cosmos: “This is my Son, my Chosen One. Listen to Him!” Not “Strive harder!” Not “Prove yourselves worthy!” Not “Bow before Him!” Not even, “Believe!” But simply, “Listen.” Listen! In this divine proclamation, we find rest, we find identity, we find unshakeable belonging.
Peter, James, and John awoke from their slumber to behold Christ’s glory, and we too are invited to awaken. To rub the sleep of legalism from our eyes and behold the breathtaking reality of grace. This awakening is not a striving, but a surrender. Not a climbing, but a falling. A falling into the arms of Love.
In the light of the Transfiguration, we see our own transfiguration – not a change we effect through herculean effort, but a metamorphosis birthed by beholding. We gaze on the radiant face of Christ, and – in ways we can’t explain, understand, or account for – we find ourselves changed. We find our hearts expanding, our burdens lifting, our shame dissipating in the warm glow of His unfailing love, His unwavering, unconditional acceptance.
Beloved, let us lay down the heavy yokes we’ve fashioned for ourselves. The ceaseless striving, the anxious performing, the relentless self-improvement projects – all these we release at the feet of our transfigured Lord. For in His Light, we see light: the Light that shines upon us to reveal the fact that we are already loved, already accepted, already enough, already held in an embrace that will never let us go.
This is the exodus that Christ accomplishes – not a journey from one place to another, but a radical liberation from the tyranny of self-salvation projects. He leads us out of the Egypt of our own making – out of the desperate attempt to prove our worth, to earn our belovedness, to win our place – and brings us into the promised land of grace.
Yet we know, from the scope of the Gospel, that the Mount of Transfiguration is the beginning of the Way of the Cross. In the valley of life, beloved, suffering and pain will come. Darkness will threaten to engulf us. The weight of the world’s brokenness will press upon our shoulders, and we may find ourselves crying out, “Where are you, God? What did I do wrong to deserve this?” The temptation will be great to search our lives for some failing, some misstep that has brought this pain upon us. We may be inclined to interpret our suffering as a sign of God’s absence or displeasure.
But having glimpsed the transfigured Christ, we carry His light within us. This light does not blind us to the reality of pain, nor does it offer glib answers or easy escapes. Instead, it illuminates a deeper truth: God’s love for us remains steadfast and unchanging, even in our darkest hours. The light of the Transfiguration shines backward and forward, encompassing both the glory of the mountaintop and the agony of the cross.
In our deepest anguish, in our most profound confusion, we cling to this unshakeable truth: we are beloved. Not because of what we’ve done or failed to do, but because of who He is. The God who spoke from the cloud, who shone with unearthly brilliance, is the same God who enters into our suffering, who weeps with us, who bears our griefs and carries our sorrows.
This is the mystery and the wonder of the Gospel: that the God of glory is also the God who suffers. In Christ, we see that our pain is not a punishment, nor is it a sign of God’s absence. Rather, it becomes the very terrain upon which grace blossoms in resurrection power. Our wounds become windows through which the light of divine love shines most brightly.
We need not seek out suffering, for life provides enough of that on its own. Nor do we need to paste on a smile and pretend that all is well when it is not. Instead, we are invited to bring our raw, unvarnished pain into the presence of the transfigured Christ. To allow His light to penetrate our darkness, not to erase it, but to transform it. In this light, we find the strength to echo the apostle Paul’s bewildered yet hopeful cry: “We do not know why we cannot do the good we want to do, or why we do the very thing we hate. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!” This victory is not an escape from suffering, but a profound assurance of God’s presence and love in the midst of it.
Beloved, in our pain, in our confusion, in our doubt – we are not alone. The light of Christ’s transfigured face shines upon us, revealing our unshakeable identity as God’s cherished children. This is the light that the darkness cannot overcome, the love that suffering cannot diminish, the grace that failure cannot exhaust.
So let us descend the mountain changed, our hearts ablaze with the wonder of grace. Let us move through the world as awakened ones, our eyes open to the glory that surrounds us, our hands open to receive and to give this inexhaustible love. For we have seen His glory, full of grace and truth, and from His fullness, we have all received grace upon grace.
Beloved, in Christ, we are transfigured. We are beloved. We are free. Let us rest in this radiant grace, and watch as it illuminates every corner of your existence, transforming you from glory to glory.