Mountaintop Moments     

‘Jesus took Peter, James, and John and led them up a high mountain and he was transfigured before them; his face shone like the sun and his clothes became white as light.’  (Matthew 17-1)

“Come after me and I will make you fishers of men.” (Matthew 4-19)

Jesus spoke those epic words when he came upon the disciples near the Sea of Galilee. At the time they didn’t understand the force that compelled them to drop their nets and leave everything behind. Nor could they have envisioned the miraculous chain of events that would unfold in the coming years. But as time passed, they learned the One who had beckoned them was no ordinary man. He had been sent by God to save the world.

On a crisp Spring morning not long after that first historic meeting, Jesus entered a small room where three of his disciples had been sleeping. “Come with me,” he told them.

The three men exchanged curious glances, but none asked where they were going or why. These things were of little importance.

“What shall we bring, Teacher?” Peter asked. He was often the first to speak; a simple fisherman man who like the others, had abandoned all that he knew for a greater calling.

Jesus smiled and looked down upon his chosen disciples. Peter, John, and James. Sunlight shone through the doorway, and his hair gleamed like fine golden thread. “A walking stick and a small gourd of water.” he replied. “You may become thirsty on our journey.”

As the amber glow of the sun inched above the horizon, they began their trek up the mountain. For several hours the Teacher led them along a steep, rocky path, and by midday they had reached the crest known as Mount Tabor.

Jesus gazed down at the lush, verdant valley below, absorbing its beauty, then lay a woolen blanket before him. “We will stop here and pray,” he told them. He knelt, clasping his hands in prayer, and stared into the azure sky.

The disciples stood near an ancient olive tree. Its gnarled branches twisted upward, providing shade for the weary travelers. They passed a gourd of water between them, then cleared leaves and twigs from the ground before them so that they could join their Master in prayer.

Suddenly the earth began to tremble, and clouds swept across the sky blocking out the sun. Then a brilliant light cut through the haze, shining down upon the mountaintop, illuminating Jesus. His clothing glowed and sparkled like the light of a thousand suns, and He was transfigured before them.

The three disciples watched in awe, mesmerized by the dazzling radiance that encircled their Master. For a moment, Jesus stood alone in the center of the light, then two figures appeared beside him. They were ancient men, their backs stooped and bent. Long flowing beards as white as a lamb’s wool fell to their chests, and their faces were tan and weathered from decades of toil beneath the desert sun. One was clad in a fine silken robe the color of jade. The other’s tunic was sewn of rich wool that gleamed like a field of wheat in the morning sunlight. At once, the disciples’ minds were opened, and they knew the two men to be Elijah and Moses.

Peter felt an overwhelming rush of joy and he fell to the ground. “Master,” he pleaded. “Let me make tents for you, Moses, and Elijah.” Though his words seemed foolish, he was overcome with an emotion of unadulterated joy.

Jesus and the two prophets stood together bathed in a brilliant luminescence until a cold wind swept up around the disciples. Then a booming voice spilled down from the sky like a clap of thunder.

“This is My beloved son with whom I am well pleased. Listen to him.”

The Apostles fell to the ground cowering in fear. They closed their eyes and prayed, offering reverence to their almighty God. Then, as suddenly as the storm had begun, the wind abated, and the mountain became still once again.

As silence settled around them, Jesus finally spoke, uttering words He would repeat many times over. “Do not be afraid.” Then the four of them descended the mountain.

At the time of the Transfiguration, Jesus had performed hundreds of miracles during his ministry. He had cast out demons and restored sight to the blind. He had fed five thousand followers from a few fish and calmed an angry storm with just a few words of admonishment.

But on that day on the mountain when God, the creator of heaven and earth, spoke to the three apostles, any ambiguity over who Jesus was and what he had been sent to do, came to an end. It was a moment of pure clarity. A revelation none of us could possibly imagine.

Peter’s response when seeing Elijah and Moses standing in the dazzling light alongside Jesus was to build a tent for each of them. Perhaps his joy was so overwhelming he merely wanted to remain in the moment. To honor and shelter them. (He hardly knew what to say – Matthew 17-4). One can only speculate as to his true intent.

Like Peter’s emotional response on Mount Tabor, we too may experience mountaintop epiphanies at various times in our lives. When a wave of joy washes over us like nothing we could imagine.

I experienced what I thought to be such a moment, long ago. My life was very different then; a secular existence focused on self-gratification and pride. It was a period when the words God and Faith held little meaning for me.

For several years I focused my time and energy to compete in a sport called Adventure Racing. My interest soon evolved into an obsession. I committed many long hours of training and eventually progressed to the pinnacle of my sport, culminating in a national championship race in my age division.

It was a physically grueling event and as I crossed the finish line, I stepped far away from the crowds and fell to my knees and wept. I could not have imagined a greater sense of joy.

The trophy was three feet tall, toeing the line between notable and obtrusive. It was placed in a position of honor in my office for all to see and adore. I often sat at my desk marveling at its beauty, believing it to be a shining symbol of my self-worth. I would relive each element of the race and the sacrifice it took me to get there. And once again experience the elation when I achieved that goal.

But over time, I began to see the trophy for what it really was, a few pounds of worthless wood and cheap metal. Like all ‘things’ and ‘possessions’ of this world, its real value was hollow and meaningless. It was nothing more than a symbol of my vanity and pride.

Years later as God gently guided me down a new path, I summoned the courage to remove the trophy from the attic. It had lived there for a decade or more, gathering dust, hardly more than a distant memory. I carried it into the garage, studying it. I ran my fingertips along its edges, noticing for the first time its flaws and imperfections. The gold sheen that had once existed had turned a dull brassy color, and scratches on the nameplate showed its decline like scars on an aging boxer who had remained in the ring beyond his prime.

I held it in my hands and for an instant I felt a tiny flicker of exhilaration from that time long ago. But that quickly faded like smoke in the wind. Now it was little more than an Icon for how meaningless my life had been. A life without God.

My true mountaintop moment occurred years later in 2016 on the evening before Easter Sunday. That was the day I was baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit, thus entering the Catholic faith. The joy that washed over me in that instance was indescribable. Much like Peter during the Transfiguration, I was overwhelmed and driven to tears. I knew then, nothing would ever be the same.

Though it’s been 25 years since that race, my mind still occasionally drifts back to the moment I naively viewed as the greatest event of my life. But I no longer feel joy or exhilaration reliving that time.  What remains is a certain sadness and remorse over the man I had been. But like so many others who were lost and then were found, I had to walk along that path of darkness to get where I am today. And I am eternally grateful He never gave up on me despite my flaws and sins.