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Some years ago, the History Network created a strange new hit series. It began as “Ice Road Truckers,” monitoring the dangerous winter haulage north of Yellowknife on the frozen Canadian tundra. Then, after several seasons of gaining familiarity with the top tonnage truckers, the network displaced them to northern Alaska and introduced new challenges and new road masters. Finally, in a thrilling new twist, three of these rig lords and ladies were transported to the Himalayan heights of upper India. There the cameras panned, with toe-tingling shock and awe, the dizzying cliffs and switchbacks that painted tiny trails against massive mountains. One wanted to look up at splendor but became entranced by plummeting rocks and trucks bouncing toward seeming certain annihilation.

Yet if a trucker or traveler did reach the summit, all of heaven was at the doorstep. It was the top of the world ― king of the mountain! It was truly a mountaintop experience.

It certainly seemed that way for Peter, James, and John as they scaled the upper altitudes of earth’s crust that day, beckoned by Jesus to rise beyond this world into the next. What started out as a morning nature walk turned into a scenic climb. And then, before the day was over, the little group of friends fell upward into heaven.

Jesus glowed. Moses and Elijah came back to life. The voice of God thundered. We are all familiar with this story, aren’t we?

But let’s pay a little closer attention to the details as Luke recounted them. First, if we look at what Luke wrote before this, we realize that Jesus’ Transfiguration came immediately on the heels of Peter’s great confession of Jesus’ identity. Only when Jesus’ disciples had begun to understand that their Master was more than merely one among many itinerant rabbis, that he was truly the promised Messiah, would their ministry of leadership in the age of the church take shape. What happened on the mountain of Transfiguration was simply that the testimony of Peter, received by the other and affirmed by Jesus, was now modeled before the intimate three. What God placed in Peter’s heart to say publicly was suddenly displayed in living technicolor as heaven and earth kissed within the frame of Jesus’ body. This was clearly Luke’s understanding of the meaning of Jesus phrase “I tell you the truth, some who are standing here will not taste death before they see the kingdom of God” in verse 27, as the prelude to this amazing event.

Second, it is important to note that Jesus did not give up his humanity while expressing his divinity, nor did he become unknown in his divinity so that his humanity was obliterated. The Transfiguration was one of the most impressive Christological moments in Jesus’ earthly life, when the fullness of deity became obviously human and the fullness of humanity became unquestionably divine. It was a mystery, of course, but it was the reason why the Nicene Creed (birthed out of the Councils of Nicaea in 325 and Chalcedon in 451) placed the specific limits that it does to our understanding of the natures and person of Jesus.

Third, the appearances of Moses and Elijah were critically instructive. How were Peter, James, and John to know the identity of these two figures who suddenly materialized before them? Probably Jesus told them, or the voice from heaven made it obvious. In any case, they knew, and we know that these two were the faces of the Bible in their times. Moses represented “the law.” He was the mediator of the Sinai covenant that was responsible for Israel’s national identity and missional purpose on behalf of Yahweh. Elijah, on the other hand, was “the prophets.” Elijah stood at the head of the prophetic line, whose teachings would make the Sinai Covenant a living constitution for the shape of Israel’s life. By the time of Jesus, only the “law” (that is, the first five books of today’s Hebrew Bible, those commonly identified as the books of Moses or the Torah) and the “prophets” (the prophetically interpreted histories of Israel found in Samuel and Kings, and the great scrolls of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and the twelve) were received as authoritative scripture. The “writings” collection would not be finalized until decades later. Moses and Elijah were the fountainheads of the two acknowledged collections of divinely inspired scripture. Appearing with Jesus, as they did, Moses and Elijah confirmed that the entire word of God pointed to Jesus and was fulfilled in Jesus.

Fourth, Peter’s desire to turn the site into a new religious shrine, and Jesus’ refusal to allow that to happen, was a reminder of the gospel’s expression of Jesus’ journey. This was only a transitional point, not a conclusion to things. The necessary revelation was not that Jesus had fulfilled the law and the prophets, but that he was the fulfillment of the law and the prophets, something that is still underway.

Fifth, the voice from heaven was an external confirmation that this was more than just a dream or hallucinogenic vision. This encounter had substance and it had a purpose. Once the three had seen more fully who Jesus was, they carried with them an added responsibility to treat him with appropriate respect and to safeguard the mission that he was on. Increased knowledge brings heightened responsibility.

Sixth, immediately after the “mountaintop” exhilaration of the Transfiguration, life took a rather grim turn. They headed down the mountain with warm joy in their hearts, only to feel the crush of real life in the valley below. Down here the demons ruled. Down here the world was torn by evil. Down here there were pains and torments. Down here, the kingdom had not yet become prominent. Moreover, the disciples who were not on the mountain with Jesus were weak and helpless. They did not have any power in themselves to change things. Jesus, of course, had the power, but his range of influence was limited by his conjoined divine and human natures, so that he could not be everywhere at once. He was able immediately to cast out the demon and heal the boy, restoring one small beachhead of the kingdom here. Even so, the other disciples, and those who came to the radiance of the glory of God through them, still needed taught. The Transfiguration was a turning point, a transitional statement. It pointed to the need for Jesus to finish his work so that its effects might be transferred into the expanding army of grace that would be generalled by these officers in training.

Light In The Darkness
Here and throughout the New Testament theme there was a strong message that our world is very dark, and that Jesus is the light of God penetrating earth’s blackness and bleakness. It is the message that the Christian church was and is the lingering glow of divine radiance pushing the transformations of heaven a little further through recessed corners of shame and pain. How are we glowing today?

Think of the ancient legend first told by Christians living in the catacombs under the streets of Rome, that pictures the day when Jesus went back to glory after finishing all his work on earth. The angel Gabriel met Jesus in heaven and welcomed him home. “Lord,” he said, “Who have you left behind to carry on your work?”

Jesus told him about the disciples: the little band of fishermen, farmers, and housewives.

“But Lord,” said Gabriel, “what if they fail you?! What if they lose heart, or drop out?! What if things get too rough for them, and they let you down?”

Jesus repied, “Then all I have done will come to nothing!”

“But don’t you have a backup plan?” Gabriel asked. “Isn’t there something else to keep it going, to finish your work?”

“No,” said Jesus, “there was no backup plan. The church was it. There was nothing else.”

“Nothing else?” asked Gabriel. “But what if they fail?”

And the early Christians knew Jesus’ answer. “They won’t fail, Gabriel,” he said. “They won’t fail!”

Isn’t that a marvelous thing?! Here are the Christians of Rome, dug into the earth like gophers, tunneling out of sight because of the terrors of Nero up above. They are nothing in that world! They are poor, despised, and insignificant! Yet they know the promise of Jesus: “You won’t fail! You’re my people, and you won’t fail!”

It is like the story Tony Campolo once told of a friend of his who was walking through the midway at a county fair when he met a tiny girl. She was carrying a great big fluff of cotton candy on a stick, almost as larger as herself! He said to her, “How can a little girl like you eat all that cotton candy?!

“Well,” she said to him, “I’m really much bigger on the inside than I am on the outside!”

So it is with us. On the outside, we seem to be nothing, like Jesus’ helpless disciples below the mountain of the Transfiguration, but on the inside, we are as big as the kingdom and the power and the glory of your God.

Transfiguration ― transformation ― what would our neighborhood be without us? What would our area be like without the church of Jesus Christ? Where would our nation be without the conscience of the people of God? It is not enough to be anti-abortion; you must be pro-life, and remind your community what real life, God’s life, is all about! It is not enough to be against immorality; you must be the conscience of society, turning its thoughts toward love and laughter and life! It is not enough to protect your own interests; you must speak out for the welfare of the poor and the disabled and the oppressed!

There is a marvelous little story tucked away in the pages of Edward Gibbon’s seven-volume work, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. It tells of a humble little monk named Telemachus living out in the farming regions of Asia.

Telemachus had no great ambitions in life. He loved his little garden and tilled it through the changing seasons. But one day in the year 391, he felt a sense of urgency, a call of God’s direction in his life. Although he did not know why, he felt that God wanted him to go to Rome, the heart and soul of the empire. In fact, the feelings of such a call frightened him but he went anyway, praying along the way for God’s direction.

When he finally got to the city, it was in an uproar! The armies of Rome had just come home from the battlefield in victory and the crowds were turning out for a great celebration. They flowed through the streets like a tidal wave and Telemachus was caught in their frenzy and carried into the coliseum.

He had never seen a gladiator contest before but his heart sickened. Down in the arena, men hacked at each other with swords and clubs. The crowds roared at the sight of blood and urged their favorites on to the death.

Telemachus could not stand it. He knew it was wrong; this wasn’t the way God wanted people to live or to die. Little Telemachus worked his way through the crowds to the wall down by the arena. “In the name of Christ, forbear!” he shouted.

Nobody heard him, so he crawled up onto the wall and shouted again: “In the name of Christ, forbear!” This time the few who heard him only laughed. But Telemachus was not to be ignored. He jumped into the arena and ran through the sands toward the gladiators. “In the name of Christ, forbear!”

The crowds laughed at the silly little man and threw stones at him. Telemachus, however, was on a mission. He threw himself between two gladiators to stop their fighting. “In the name of Christ, forbear!” he cried.

They hacked him apart! They cut his body from shoulder to stomach and he fell onto the sand with the blood running out of his life.

The gladiators were stunned and they stopped to watch him die. Then the crowds fell back in silence, and, for a moment, no one in the coliseum moved. Telemachus’ final words rang in their memories: “In the name of Christ, forbear!” At last they moved, slowly at first, but growing in numbers. The masses of Rome filed out of the coliseum that day, and the historian Theodoret reported that never again was a gladiator contest held there! This was all because of the witness and the testimony of a single Christian who had the glow-in-the-dark power of grace and God’s goodness.

Lingering Glow
During the time of the Reformation, John Foxe of England was impressed by the testimony of the early Christians. He gleaned the pages of early historical writings and wrote a book that has become a classic in the church, Foxe’s Book of Martyrs.

One story he told was about an early church leader named Lawrence. Lawrence acted as a pastor for a church community. He also collected the offerings for the poor each week, and that led to his death.

A band of thieves found out that Lawrence received the offerings of the people from Sunday to Sunday, so one night, as he was out taking a stroll, they grabbed him and demanded the money. He told them that he did not have it, that he had already given it all to the poor. They did not believe him and told him they would give him a chance to find it. In three days, they would come to his house, and take from him the treasures of the church.

Three days later they did come, but Lawrence was not alone. The house was filled with the people of his congregation. When the thieves demanded the treasures of the church, Lawrence smiled. He opened wide his arms and gestured to those who sat around him. “Here’s the treasure of the church!” he said. “Here’s the treasure of God that shines in the world!”

Indeed! As Jesus said in another place, “You are the light of the world.” You can glow in the dark of this world, shining the light of the Transfiguration to those who desperately need it.