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Transfiguration; February 15, 2026; Year A; Sermon Matthew 17:1-9
Today’s story from the Gospel of Matthew is about an experience that takes place on a
mountaintop. And this mountaintop experience hits all the buttons. Most of us can relate
to what a mountaintop experience is, but the most common unifying characteristic is a
spiritual high of some kind.
In the same way, we know what the valleys are too. And there are different kinds of
valleys—grief, burnout, active addiction, betrayal, physical ailments and maladies. All
kinds. And though it might be hard to articulate the difference between mountaintops and
valleys, we understand and feel the differences keenly. And we’d all agree, mountaintops
are generally preferable.
As a young person, I remember being prone to mountaintop experiences. Growing up at
First Presbyterian Church in Cullman, we were used to those rather staid and serious
worship experiences. It was a more cerebral form of worship than an emotional worship
experience. But we did have an excellent choir there, so we had our share of
mountaintop moments in worship. And we certainly are led to mountaintop moments
with our choir here in Sheffield.
But most of my mountaintop experiences as a child and youth came from Camp
Maranatha. It was and still is a wonderful place to commune with God and hear a fresh
word from the Lord.
My dad’s twin brother was minister of music at a full gospel church that met at the
Downtown Birmingham YMCA, which was always really exciting. But I don’t recall any
mountaintop experiences there because I was always so nervous and overwhelmed when
we visited. I guess I was too embarrassed when my cousin played the tambourine on the
front row. Not for me, really. But camp, yes.
And I had, as a lot of young people do, a heart that loved to scale up the side of that
mountain for the mountaintop. Growing up in the South, I had lots of friends who would
invite us to their church’s revivals. And, being Presbyterian, I never was exposed to
many emotional pitches on “Give your life to Christ” decision moments—every head
bowed, every eye closed—we just weren’t used to that. We were taught more of an every
day of life is a hatful of decisions to be faithful and to say yes to Jesus.
In fact, I guess it’s probably a good estimate to say that I walked down the aisle to give
my life to Jesus no fewer than 8-10 times during my adolescence at various and sundry
Baptist revivals. It always just seemed like the thing to do. It never really occurred to me
that you only needed to say, “Yes” to Jesus just the one time. “Do you want to give your

life to Jesus? Dedicate your heart to the Lord?” Then, come on down! And down I
went!
Maybe that’s why so many of my friends invited me to revivals….they knew I was good
for a positive response. Who knows?
Well, today’s text is a mountaintop experience. And these disciples surely need a
mountaintop—they’re living through a moment in history that they know is significant,
but they can’t ever seem to quite wrap their heads around the what and wherefore of what
this time’s about.
Just a few verses back, Peter proclaimed, “You are the Christ!” then turned around and
was rebuked by Jesus right after—because he couldn’t understand that being the Christ
meant suffering and death. These guys need a sure word from God. And they get one.
During this mountaintop experience, the disciples hear three things from God: Listen to
him [to Jesus], Be raised up. And Do not be afraid. Listen for that as we hear the Word
of the Lord from Matthew 17:1-9.
Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up
a high mountain, by themselves. 2  And he was transfigured before them, and his face
shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. 3  Suddenly there appeared to
them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. 4  Then Peter said to Jesus, "Lord, it is good for
us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses,
and one for Elijah." 5  While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed
them, and from the cloud a voice said,;This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well
pleased; listen to him!" 6  When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were
overcome by fear. 7  But Jesus came and touched them, saying, "Get up and do not be
afraid." 8  And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.
9  As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, "Tell no one about the
vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead."
Friends, this is the Word of the Lord; thanks be to God.
Listen to him. Be raised up. Do not be afraid. The Greek word that Jesus uses for “get
up” is the same word he uses and the angels use to refer to his resurrection. What we
translate in this context as “get up” also can mean “be raised up.” And isn’t that what
these mountaintop times do for us? They raise us up so that we can see the big
picture—to look over the rocks and bogs of life and open up to wider vistas of beauty and
grace.

And these guys need that right now. Things are happening fast, and they’re not getting
the whole picture. And just when Peter thinks he’s got it all right, Jesus lets him know he
doesn’t. Whirlwind kind of time. And, BREAKING NEWS: whirlwinds and times in
the valleys of life didn’t only happen in first century Palestine.
We all know what the valley looks like. We’ve seen both. Mountains and valleys.
Trying to balance a busy career when your parent or parents suddenly need full-time care.
And still trying to find time for volunteering and church work in the cracks in-between.
Having to deal with that one family member who always seems to take simple things and
make them into chaos. Or going through problems that the doctor hasn’t quite identified
yet, taking tests and wondering what they’ll tell us. The times when we feel
overwhelmed with worry and distress, either for ourselves or for others.
We all have our own valleys, and in those times, we need to come to the mountain and
hear again the words of Jesus—calling us, like Peter, to stop… talking…. long enough to
listen. Listen to him. Just listen. Not to what we’re saying, but listen to what Jesus is
saying, about love. And justice. And reconciliation. Listen to what Jesus is saying about
peace. Listen to what Jesus is saying about empathy.
And that’s hard enough to do sometimes, to listen to what Jesus is saying. But how do
we know the answer to the question, “What would Jesus do?” if we never stop to listen to
what Jesus has to say?
But if we do stop talking and listen, we hear Jesus say, “Be raised up.” And that word
can also be translated as to wake, to rouse, to stir up, to be raised up from the dead even
to bring into being. There’s this sense of shaking us out of a trance. Be raised up out of
your stupor and see this view from the mountain.
And then we hear the words, “Do not be afraid.” What a wonderful message for us to
stop and hear when we’re in the middle of the whirlwind. It’s like finding the calm spot
in the center of the hurricane—the place where our only job is to stand still and hear
God’s command: Do not be afraid.
We need mountaintops. A chance to lift our heads up and see past this ten foot stretch in
front of us. These disciples needed this mountaintop because from this point forward in
this Gospel story, Jesus will be marching toward Jerusalem. The rest of this story will
ask a lot of the disciples.
Maryetta Madeleine Anschutz says, “the transfiguration offers the disciples the paradox
that while there is nothing they can do to save themselves from suffering, there is also no
way they can shield themselves from the light of God that sheds hope in their darkest
moments. The mountain was the way for God to prepare a human band of companions

for the sacred journey, to offer something to hold onto when they descend into the
crushing reality of the world below.” 1 What a thing to know—that as sure as the valleys
of life do come, that there is no way—even if we wanted to—there is no way to shield
ourselves from the light of God, shedding hope in our darkest moments. That’s good to
hear.
So as we move from this mountain of the Transfiguration into the penitential season of
Lent, we’ll remember, too, that the light of God always travels with us. Through valleys
and mountains alike. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
Amen.

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