A Bright Assurance

The Mountain and the Valley

Carrying Glory Into Ordinary Life

Have you ever been somewhere so beautiful, so full of God’s presence, that you didn’t want to leave?

Maybe it was a candlelight Christmas Eve service, the room glowing softly as everyone sang together. Or a night under the stars, voices lifted in worship, hearts wide open. Moments like that feel sacred. Clear. Weightless. We want to stay there as long as we can.

That longing isn’t new.

A Mountaintop Moment

In Matthew 17, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up a high mountain. There, before their eyes, He is transfigured. His face shines like the sun. His clothes blaze with light. Moses and Elijah appear beside Him. The moment is overwhelming—holy, radiant, unmistakable.

Peter responds the way many of us would:

“Lord, it is good for us to be here. Let’s stay.”

Who wouldn’t want to stay in a place like that? On the mountaintop, there is clarity without confusion. Glory without grief. Nothing feels ordinary or heavy or hard.

But we don’t live on mountaintops. We visit them.

Why We Can’t Stay

Life calls us back down. There are bills to pay, diagnoses to manage, and relationships to mend. The mountain is beautiful—but it isn’t where most of life happens.

And that’s not a mistake.

The transfiguration wasn’t random. It was revelation. The disciples were being shown who Jesus truly is—not just a teacher, not just a miracle worker, but the fulfillment of everything God has been doing since the beginning.

A cloud covers them, the same kind of cloud throughout Scripture that signals God’s presence. And from that cloud comes a voice:

“This is my Son, my Beloved. Listen to Him.”

It’s the same voice heard at Jesus’ baptism. Tender. Certain. Holy.

The disciples fall to the ground in awe. And then Jesus does something beautiful. He walks over, touches them, and says:

“Get up. Don’t be afraid.”

Radiant glory… and gentle kindness. Power… and tenderness. The shining Christ is also the One with a steady hand on their shoulder.

The Purpose of the Mountain

Then suddenly, Moses and Elijah are gone. The light softens. It’s just Jesus again. And together, they walk back down the mountain.

Because the point of the mountain isn’t escape.
It’s assurance.

That moment of glory comes right before they begin the road toward suffering and confusion and loss. Soon they will face Good Friday. But when the darkness comes, they will remember the light. They will remember His face shining. They will remember His touch. They will remember His voice saying, Don’t be afraid.

Mountaintop moments aren’t meant to be preserved in place. They’re meant to be carried with us.

As Jill Briscoe once said:

“Don’t doubt in the darkness what you knew for sure in the light.”

God Is With Us in Both Places

We all want to build tents around our brightest moments and stay there. But those moments are given so we can take them with us into ordinary days—and even into difficult ones.

Because Jesus doesn’t stay on the mountain. He walks down into the valley with His disciples.

And He walks with us, too.

The One who shines like the sun is not distant from suffering. He shines into it. The One who says, “Do not be afraid,” still speaks those words today.

So wherever you find yourself this week—on a mountaintop, in a valley, or somewhere in between—you are not alone. The glory of Jesus is not meant only for extraordinary moments. It is meant to strengthen you, steady you, and walk beside you in everyday life.

May His light shine on you, in you, and around you.
May you feel His gentle hand on your shoulder.
And may you carry the assurance of His presence wherever you go.

Amen.