(28) Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. (29) And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. (30) Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. (31) They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. (32) Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. (33) Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah"-not knowing what he said. (34) While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. (35) Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" (36) When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen. (37) On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him.

- Luke 9: 28-37

The account of the transfiguration records a rare and privileged experience. Few have been so graced in the history of our faith, from ancient Israel's beginnings to the church of today, to stand in the holy presence of God as did Peter, John and James. Mystics and saints have lived lives of disciplined piety in hopes of attaining such knowledge and clarity of vision.

Meanwhile, we mere mortals slog along in our ordinary lives. To be sure, many among us have had experiences we could not explain or moments in which we thought we felt God's presence. The birth of a child, the embrace of a soul mate, the death of a loved one, or the formation of community among the broken lead us to know that we have felt God's presence. We may have not seen God like Peter, James and John, but we have been to the mountaintop through such experiences as these and, for a moment, stood in the holy presence of God.

Nonetheless, here is a story that tests modern credulity: Jesus is transfigured into dazzling white, Moses and Elijah appear and talk, and an audible voice from a cloud is heard to say, "This is my son, my chosen, listen to him." It might be easier to believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. Yet there is a complete lack of equivocation. The vision is stunningly clear. We are caught by the account because we know how much we long to see and to see beyond the surface of things. We long to see what is important, what our vision is for ourselves, for our common life and for our church.

We rarely grasp where God is leading us with such clarity of vision, whether in our personal life or our collective life as a church. We muddle along in the mundane. We sometimes know what we want today; but often we don't. Sometimes it becomes crystal clear what God wants, but more commonly we slog along step by step. In the church, we appoint strategic task forces and conduct mission studies and meet and meet and meet, hoping that through it all, God will speak to us. "Is this how God is revealed?" we may ask. It makes one long for lightning bolts, burning bushes and mountaintop transfigurations.

At times along the way, the future may come clear. Like a hiker in the wilderness who climbs a tree to get a clear fix on the mountaintop that lies ahead, so too we may look back on the distance we have already traveled, survey the landscape and look ahead to the summit of our dreams. The clouds part, the sun brightens, and we behold the destination with stunning clarity and new resolve.

We may have retreated to a quiet place to pray, to meditate and to steal away from all the busyness of our manic lives in order for the shape of our future to become clear in ways that transcend ordinary experience. We may remember a church retreat on the mountaintop or beside the beach where we made a commitment to follow Jesus. We may remember a mentor's gentle guidance saying, "Have you thought of devoting your life to this?" We may remember in a passionate fight for what was just, discovering a new calling that shaped and continues to shape our destiny. We may remember a personal struggle at bedside or grave side, where the meaning of the gospel and God's call to us broke in and transformed our ordinary experience. A radiant light was cast upon us and its beams still permeate our being and we see who we are and to whom we belong. We have been to the mountaintop.

The danger of such experiences, because they are so rare, is that we fail to learn from them as we ought, or we may make them the norm and expect that our spiritual lives should always be at some summit of perfect clarity and stunning vision.

Surprisingly, the transfiguration in the biblical story appears to have had little impact on the three disciples. Despite the brilliant radiance of their mountaintop experience, they do not seem to understand what Jesus told them about what lies ahead: his death and resurrection. Later, Peter still denies Jesus. He cannot imagine that suffering, heartache and the confrontation of evil are essential to the faithful life. Later, the other disciples still looked for an earthly kingdom, a political solution to the restoration of the kingdom of Israel. The implication is that the disciples were not transformed by their mountaintop experience.

The disciples wanted to build booths and stay up on the mountaintop. They wanted to freeze time in one magical moment like a first kiss or a baby's first step. They wanted to freeze time in a moment of stunning radiance and spiritual high. Down below the crowds wait. The disciples look down and see Aunt Mabel with her whining, broken heart, demanding attention. They see Cousin Fred with his failed marriages. They see the hordes of ghetto kids bathed in a cesspool of a violent culture. They see the rich made hollow by values as thin as gruel. They see an ocean of humanity longing for truth and eternity. No wonder they wanted to stay up on the mountaintop.

But they could not stop time and neither can we. Following Jesus means following. As much as the disciples were awed by what they had seen, they were not ready to be witnesses to Jesus. Only later, after following Jesus into the heart of their own darkness at the foot of the cross, its grief and its terror, only after they experienced the joy of the resurrection and the unleashing of the power of the Holy Spirit, would they be ready to bear witness to what their God had done in Jesus Christ and in their own lives.

Faithfulness is not found by freeze-framing a mountaintop experience in a perpetual spiritual high, but following on in the confidence that God is leading. God is leading even into the heartache of the cross. God is leading even when the going is not clear. We walk on confident in the faith that what lies ahead is even greater than what we have already experienced.

So what can be said about the quest for vision and clarity in our own time, in our own lives, in our own church? The story of the transfiguration emphasizes that God has been revealed through Jesus and that the essence of who God is cannot be understood apart from crucifixion and resurrection. Only by entering into our own brokenness do we find new life. Only by coming down from the mountaintop and entering into the crowded demands of human need, only by marching toward Jerusalem do we ever understand the character of God, the significance of Jesus, or the path of our own life as individuals and as a congregation.

At best, our mountaintop experiences, our dreams and visions can give meaning to the whole of our experience, making our goals clear in the midst of the journey. But they also point us downward to the tasks and struggles that are the ordinary stuff of human existence that give our lives purpose. The birth of a new baby is a mountaintop experience, but there will be thousands of diapers to change, and that too is holy. The first kiss is a mountaintop experience, but in forty years of shared heartache and shared joy, you will know what love is and what could be more sacred? A victory in the cause of what is right is so sweet, but the struggle, too, is sacred as well. A life-transforming experience is to be cherished for certain, but so is the day-to-day walking in faithfulness in the ordinary struggles, heartaches and simple pleasures of day-to-day faithful living.