Exodus 24:12-18 and Matthew 17:19

I have a thing I do. And I think I am the only one who can do it.

I lie to myself. And I say, I am all alone. It’s only me. I am the only one who can do it. I am the only one who can fight this battle. I am the only one who knows the solution to this problem.

I am on my own. There is no one fighting with me, I lie. I say, I wish there was someone to protect me. I wish there was someone else in this fight with me. I wish it wasn’t just up to me. But I am all alone.

If I just paused.

If I waited a second.

If I looked around for a moment.

I would see that my prayer had already been answered.

I could pause and listen.

Breathe in and out. In and out.

I would see that someone is already in the battle for me.

I breathe in and out and I hear someone else next to me inhale and then exhale. In and out. Breathing together.

When I stop lying and stop saying, “There is no one protecting me,” I might could see that there she is- out there fielding arrows left and right. Like the fierce warrior that she is.

I would realize that never once was I alone. Never once in the valley was I ever alone. And certainly it is folly to believe that I was the only one who could do it.

It’s easy to see God up there on the mountain top. The golden light, the voice from the cloud, the splendor laid out beneath us. We see things that remind us of God: beauty, majesty, sun, warmth, nature, eagles soaring.

But as much as God is on the mountaintop, God is also in the valley. 

God is in the cool shadows when the sun goes behind the cloud and the air gets still. When mountains rise up around us and the dense trees cover the clear way out. 

God is there too.

I am concerned that when we read stories like what our lectionary gives us for today, on Transfiguration Sunday, we think we can only meet God on the mountain tops. 

We even call things like mission trips, retreats, great concerts, “Mountain top experiences.” 

Something really amazing happened, we encountered the divine in a real way up there. It’s life-changing and sticks with us forever. 

There is something special that does happen. And “mountain top experiences” have a role to play in our lives.

But God is in the valley, too. And in the valley is where we are often called to be. 

In mountain region farming, the valley is often preferred because of its access to water, the fertile land, and the protection from harsh weather conditions. Likewise, in the valley of our lives, even if it doesn’t seem fun or enjoyable, often that is fertile ground for God’s grace to show up.

In the valley of our lives, we might be grieving. We might feel stuck or heartbroken, waiting for the pain to end and the joy to return. But we are reminded that God in Christ sits with us in that pain. We can, for lack of a better word, mine that time of grief and sorrow for evidence of God’s grace maybe through a lasagna from a friend or a surprise $100 bill for groceries.

In the valley, we can seek out other fellow travelers who might be in need of God’s grace, too. We can serve them, fight for them, advocate for better conditions and resources. We can join their picket lines and protests. We can stock their shelves.  

We can climb down into the valley and discover others who are in need of hope. Through that, we encounter God’s grace and we participate in God’s grace.

While the valley is fertile ground for God’s grace, we do also need the mountain top. 

Often in the biblical witness, we find leaders, Moses, Joshua, Jesus, Elijiah going up the mountain to meet with God. As if they need time alone, away to meet God, to pray. A retreat.

Maybe we tell ourselves we cannot head up to the mountain because there’s no one else who can do our things. 

We believe the lie that we are the only one. That it is all up to us.

That is a lie. It’s not all up to just us.

Moses left his delegates in charge. He left his brother Aaron and Hur with the Israelites and said, “Wait for us until we come to you again. Whoever has a dispute can take it up with Aaron and Hur while Joshua and I are up the mountain.”

Now, Aaron and Hur didn’t do a very good job. Moses came back with the standards from God for how to be people of God and the people had already made a golden calf, looking for another god. 

But this doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have gone up the mountain. They were able to fix the situation and rebuild the community later, and this correcting and reconciling became part of Israel’s story as they figured out how to become the people of God. 

And, likewise, Jesus went up with his friends, Peter, James, and John, and met with the prophets, Moses and Elijah. 

Peter, having such a powerful experience, wanted to stay on the mountain. “Let’s make tents for you, Moses, and Elijah. Let’s stay a while. We will build a tabernacle like in the old days and we can stay here, in this moment, forever, worshipping God.”

Jesus doesn’t respond, but the voice of God came through the cloud saying, “This is my son, the beloved, with him I am well pleased. Listen to him.”

Peter, James, and John were rightfully terrified when they heard the voice of God. They knew, from the stories from the old days, that if you were found in the presence of the Most High God without being sanctified, you would die. You’d be eliminated right there.

But Jesus’ calm voice breaks through their terror. “Get up. Do not be afraid.”

Up on the mountain top, the disciples had clarity about the previous prophecies and who Jesus was. Of course they would want to stay up there. Up there on the mountain, where the air is clear, and so is theology.

But that’s not where they were meant to be. Jesus said, “Get up.” and they got up and walked down the mountain.

As someone who moved around a lot as a kid, it is hard for me to answer the question, “Where are you from?” But lately, I’ve realized that because my grandparents lived there most of my life, because it was a fixed point for me to visit through life transitions and moves-

Home, for me, is in the mountains of North Carolina. The soft, rolling, ancient Appalachians, with crags worn down from millenia of storms, rains, changing tree canopies, and now strip mining scaring the tops and poisoning the water that children drink below.

But up there, on the mountain, I can’t see the small things. I can’t see the disruption strip mining causes. I can’t see the flooding, pollution, or interrupted wildlife migrations. I’m up on the mountain, away from it all. 

When standing on the top, with the trees and birds and clouds beneath me, I forget how hard the climb was. I forget all about the rocks and roots I tripped on in the beginning. 

At the top, I don’t think about the spongy mountain path with its layers of pine needles and leaves. At the top, I catch up with that breath that seemed to have been lost half way up. I watch the birds soar beneath me. The wind blows over blankets of trees and fills my lungs. I reach up, just about to touch the sky.

At the top of the mountain, many things become clear. The sun comes out from behind her clouds and golden light falls across the trees.

Eternity is found at the top of the mountain. Heaven’s mysteries are whispered in the pines up there. Love’s arms rise up as the peaks, bringing me into an embrace in the peaceful valleys. The mountains hold me, comfort me, and remind me of the promise that love never ends.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but I do know who made the mountains, who softened their rocks, and carved their gentle valleys. 

I know the one who placed the tall pines and the small squirrels in the forest. I don’t know what will happen when we come down the mountain, but I know who will be there at the bottom. 

He waits for us at the river that cuts through the mountains. He takes our hand as we pass through the waters of baptism. He calls out our name and says, This one. This one is my beloved, with whom I am well pleased. 

Amen.