Down the Mountain

Each of us has experienced moments when it felt really good to be alive. Sitting by a fire with a close friend and a glass of wine. Watching a breathtaking sunset at the beach. Holding a newborn child. Listening to a magnificent symphony. Finishing a hard workout and feeling strong. Moments when, like Peter in today’s Gospel, we would say: “Lord, it is good to be here.”

We know how rare such moments are. And how quickly they pass. Most of life is not lived on a “rocky mountain high.” Most of life is lived in the lowlands — in the dirt and hurt of ordinary days. So it was for Jesus.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus and his disciples have an overwhelming experience of God. Everything feels good. Everything feels right. Peter wants to freeze the moment, to build tents and just stay there.

But our faith is not about staying where we feel good. Jesus does not scold Peter. He simply says: “Get up. Do not be afraid.” And then he leads them down the mountain, round the edge of the cliff, over the rocky road, back into the valley — into dusty towns and hurting people, cynical politicians and self-righteous pundits, broken systems and fragile lives.

For Jesus, the mountaintop experience is real. But he realizes it is not permanent.

The heart of that glorious moment is not the light, not the vision, not the glory. The heart of it is that You are my beloved. Jesus is God’s beloved Son on the mountain. He is just as much God’s beloved Son on the cross. And so are we.

Thrust amidst the grime and grit of the lowlands does not mean that God has withdrawn. Suffering does not mean we are abandoned. Darkness does not mean we are unloved. We may step away from God. But God never steps away from us.

We may step away from God. But God never steps away from us.

These rare mountain top glimpses of God’s goodness are meant to sustain us for the journey. They recall who God is for us.

We profess a God “who for us and for our salvation came down from heaven… and became flesh.” A God who did not remain high above our human condition, but entered it fully, who walks with us through the valley of death to the fullness of everlasting life.

Jesus leads his followers down the mountain to share the sorrows and disappointments, the hopes and joys, of a sinful, messy world. To bring healing to the sick. Welcome to the stranger. Compassion to the abandoned. Dignity to the persecuted and forgotten.

We are chosen not because we are special or better or more loved but simply because God wants us to work with him in saving the world from sin and darkness. And that is why Lent matters.

Lent is the season when we try to do what the voice from the cloud commands: “Listen to him.”

For six weeks we mute the noise of politics, the relentless pull of consumerism, the distractions that harden our hearts.

Lent is the time to listen to Jesus. To hear the Word of God. When we listen, we hear both love and challenge: You are my beloved — and — walk down into the valley. Do not be afraid to be fully who you are — God’s beloved sons and daughters — on the mountaintop, in the lowlands, in this world, and in the world to come.

And we will — all of us — be the better for it.