Courage to Come Down the Mountain Luke 9:28-43a: March 2nd, 2025

Courage to Come Down the Mountain

Luke 9:28-43a

Rev. Dr. Rhonda Abbott Blevins

March 2, 2025

Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James and

went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face

changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. Suddenly they saw two men,

Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking about his exodus,

which he was about to fulfill in Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down

with sleep, but as they awoke they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as

they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us set up

three tents, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah,” not realizing what he was saying.

While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them, and they were terrified as

they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my

Chosen; listen to him!” 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. On the next day, when they had

come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. Just then a man from the crowd

shouted, “Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. Suddenly a spirit seizes him,

and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will

scarcely leave him. I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not.” Jesus answered,

“You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and put up with

you? Bring your son here.” While he was being brought forward, the demon dashed him to the

ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him

back to his father. And all were astounded at the greatness of God.

______

Have you ever had a mountaintop experience? An experience that was so transcendent, so

awe-invoking, that it changed your life, or at least your perspective?

For me, it was a literal mountaintop experience. It was the summer of 1995. I was working

as a part of a traveling team for a Christian youth camp, and we were traveling and putting

on camp for teenagers in the Northwest USA. It was midsummer, and I had been feeling

quite sorry for myself, missing family and friends. My team had a little break between

camps, and we found ourselves on top of beautiful, pristine Mt. Baker, Washington. It was a

warm, sunny day in July, but there were still a few inches of snow on Mt. Baker. It was

simply glorious! I found a tree stump to sit on, looking across the valley, the snow caps

reflected on a beautiful clear blue lake below. I sat mesmerized—transfixed. A sense of awe

came over me unlike I had ever experienced before or since. It was . . . rapturous . . . as if I

was one with creation . . . losing nearly all sense of self. Someone from my team had to

come find me as I lost all track of time. Rousing me out of my transfixed state, I joined my

friend, but I was different. No longer feeling sorry for myself, but joyful, relaxed, playful.

It was for me, a “mountaintop experience.”

So I get it. I get why Peter wanted to stay up on that mountain. I get why he wanted to build

three dwellings there, after seeing Jesus transfigured along with Moses and Elijah. I get

wanting to stay in a rapturous, glorified state. I do.

But here’s the thing: mountaintop experiences aren’t meant to last. Rather, mountaintop

experiences transform us for service in the valley below.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to the mountaintop.

Imagine climbing a mountain with Jesus after a long day. You’re tired. Your feet hurt. Maybe

you’re wondering why Jesus always picks mountains for prayer retreats when a nice

garden would do just fine. Peter, James, and John probably felt the same way.

But then something extraordinary happens. While Jesus is praying, his appearance

completely transforms right before their eyes. His face begins to shine, and his clothes

become a dazzling white. This isn’t just a slight glow or a trick of the light. Luke tells us

Jesus is radiating glory— the fullness of Jesus’ divine nature breaking through his human

form.

And he’s not alone! Suddenly, two figures appear beside him—Moses and Elijah. This isn’t

random. Moses represents the Law—the one who brought God’s commandments down

from another mountain long ago. Elijah represents the Prophets—perhaps the greatest

prophet in Israel’s history, who never died but was taken up to heaven in a whirlwind.

Together, they represent the entirety of what we call the Old Testament—the Law and the

Prophets.

What’s fascinating is what they’re discussing. Luke tells us they’re talking about Jesus’

“departure”—literally his “exodus”— which he is about to accomplish in Jerusalem. They’re

discussing Jesus’ coming death, resurrection, and ascension—the way Jesus would lead a

new kind of liberation for all people.

This moment reveals Jesus’s true identity in stunning clarity. He isn’t just a great teacher or

prophet . . . Jesus is the fulfillment of both the Law and the Prophets. Everything Moses and

Elijah pointed toward is now standing between them, shining with divine glory. This is

God’s Son, the one who perfectly bridges heaven and earth.

How did the disciples feel? Luke tells us they were heavy with sleep but managed to stay

awake—and what a good thing they did! Can you imagine their shock? Their awe? Their

confusion? Peter’s impulsive suggestion to build three dwellings shows he recognized the

significance but didn’t fully understand it. They were witnessing something their minds

could barely process—a glimpse behind the veil of ordinary reality into the true nature of

their friend and teacher.

This wasn’t just a spiritual high; it was a revelation that should have forever changed how

they saw Jesus. They had been following a person who contained more glory than they

could comprehend. They had been eating, walking, and talking with God’s beloved Son.

Peter’s reaction is so wonderfully human. “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make

three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

Can you hear what he’s really saying? “Let’s stay here! Let’s make this permanent! This is

amazing—why would we ever leave this place?”

We do the same thing, don’t we? We try to build dwellings around our spiritual high points:

 Some of us create Christian bubbles, surrounding ourselves exclusively with

Christian friends, media, and activities as a way to preserve spiritual comfort rather

than engaging with the broader world.

 Some of us cling to nostalgia in our churches in our families, trying to recreate the

past because it reminds us of a time when we felt close to God, rather than

embracing how God might be working now.

 Some of us accumulate spiritual knowledge without putting it into practice.

 Some of us focus on church buildings, becoming so preoccupied with church

facilities and aesthetics that we forget the church is people, not a place.

There’s nothing wrong with mountaintop moments. We need them. Jesus himself regularly

retreated to mountains and quiet places to pray. But he never stayed there, and neither can

we.

Peter wanted to build dwellings because he didn’t understand that the glory he witnessed

wasn’t meant to be contained—it was meant to be carried.

God interrupts Peter’s construction plans in the most dramatic way possible. A cloud

envelops them—not just any cloud, but the cloud of God’s presence that had led Israel

through the wilderness, that had filled the temple when Solomon dedicated it.

And from this cloud comes the voice of God: “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

Notice God doesn’t say, “Look at how amazing he is!” or “Build him a nice shrine!” God says,

“Listen to him!” Because listening leads to following. Listening leads to obedience. Listening

prepares us for the journey back down the mountain.

What had Jesus been talking about before this moment? His upcoming suffering in

Jerusalem. What would he continue to teach afterward? The cost of discipleship. The way of

the cross. The call to lose our lives to save them.

The command to listen is the preparation we need for descent. The glory reveals who Jesus

is; the listening shapes who we are becoming.

And just like that, it was over. Moses and Elijah disappeared. The cloud lifted. Jesus

returned to his normal appearance. And the next day, they came down from the mountain.

No transition. No decompression time. No workshop on “How to Apply Your Mountaintop

Experience.” Just down they went, straight into the chaos of real life.

And what did they find? A desperate father, a suffering child, disciples who couldn’t help,

and a crowd of confused onlookers. They descended from perfect glory into messy

humanity.

This is always the pattern: retreat and return, revelation and responsibility, seeing and

serving. Jesus never took the disciples up a mountain without bringing them back down

again.

We often wish God would let us stay in those perfect spiritual moments, but that’s not how

transformation works. The mountain gives us vision, but the valley gives us vocation.

The mountain shows us who God is, but the valley is where we show the world who God is.

Coming down the mountain takes courage. It’s easy to worship when you can see God’s

glory. It’s harder when you’re confronted with suffering that doesn’t immediately yield to

prayer. It’s easy to believe when you hear God’s voice. It’s harder when you face skepticism,

resistance, or apathy.

So where do we find this courage?

First, we find it in the memory of who Jesus truly is. Once you’ve seen Christ’s glory, you

never see him the same way again, even when that glory is hidden. The disciples would face

terrible trials ahead—rejection, persecution, and for most of them, martyrdom. But they

never forgot what they saw on that mountain.

Second, we find courage in the command that continues to echo. “Listen to him!” rings in

our ears when other voices try to drown it out. Jesus’s words become our foundation when

everything else shifts beneath our feet.

Third, we find courage in community. Notice Jesus didn’t take just one disciple up the

mountain—he took three. They could remind each other of what they saw when doubts

crept in. We need fellow travelers who have glimpsed God’s glory and can help us

remember it in the darkness.

Finally, we find courage in the needs that await our response. Think about it—that

suffering child at the bottom of the mountain needed exactly what the disciples had just

witnessed: the power and authority of God’s chosen Son. Our world’s desperate needs are

not a distraction from spiritual experience; they’re the very reason for it.

So what about you? What about your mountaintop experiences?

Maybe it was a powerful worship service where God felt undeniably present. Maybe it was

a moment of clarity during personal prayer or Bible study. Maybe it was volunteering that

opened your eyes to God’s work in the world. Maybe it was a profound experience of

healing or forgiveness.

Whatever your mountaintop, the question is: how has it transformed your daily life?

Does your glimpse of God’s holiness change how you conduct your business? Does your

experience of grace change how you treat those who have hurt you? Does your encounter

with divine love change how you view people different from you? Does your vision of God’s

kingdom change your priorities and commitments?

The true measure of a spiritual experience isn’t how high it takes you; it’s how it sends you

back into the valley. Because that’s where most people live—in the valley of ordinary

struggles, everyday decisions, and common heartaches. That’s where Christ’s light is

needed most.

Think about where you’re headed this week:

 Into your home, where relationships might be strained or routine

 Into your workplace, where ethical challenges might arise

 Into your neighborhood, where people might be suffering silently

 Into your own heart, where old fears and doubts still linger

These are the places where mountaintop courage matters most. These are the places where

we’re called to reflect the glory we’ve seen, to live out the words we’ve heard.

As we prepare to enter the season of Lent next week, we journey with Jesus toward

Jerusalem, toward the ultimate valley of suffering and sacrifice. But we go having seen who

he truly is—not just a good teacher or moral example, but God’s beloved Son, radiating

divine glory.

And we remember that the greatest example of mountaintop courage is Jesus himself. The

One who existed in glory before the world began chose to become human. The

transfiguration didn’t just reveal who Jesus was; it highlighted the sacrifice he was making

every day by limiting his divine glory to dwell among us.

If Jesus had the courage to descend from heaven’s heights to earth’s brokenness, surely we

can find the courage to carry what we’ve seen of him from our worship into our world.

The mountaintop gives us vision. But the valley is where vision becomes reality.

Remember, friends: Courage isn’t the absence of fear on the mountain; it’s the presence of

faith in the valley.