transfigured.

disclaimer: I loved reconciling Sunday. I loved it so much I didn't even realize I was missing one of my favorite Sundays in the liturgical year: Transfiguration Sunday. I think the story is so beautiful, and so mysterious - and so human.

I resonate with the disciples here especially. I think when you hang out with someone like this Jesus character, you come to just expect amazing things to happen. And what with there always being some trick, some moral hiding you didn't see coming, I imagine that I would always have been trying to stay one step ahead, figuring where this lesson was going. I imagine I would have been a fuss-er, like Peter. He so wants to get it right, you know? The voice (can you imagine?) the PRESENCE of God is all about them, and Peter wants to build a worship space, right there. I have trouble imagining what this moment would be like - so I like to have artists help me out. One of my favorite depictions is a musical setting by Sufjan Stevens. Listen to it here.

I'd like to think I'd have enough sense to just take in a moment like that, but I have a feeling I'd be reaching for my camera - always trying to capture, to remember, to keep, to stay the same. And at the heart of it, isn't this story about change? Change for the disciples, change for the ministry, fallout from a mountaintop experience.

One of my favorite spots in the world is at a camp in the mountains of Western North Carolina. The path is steep, icy in the winter and muddy after a rain. And the sun sets fast, so you'd be wise to bring yourself a flashlight. There are cracks in the rock you'll have to leap over to get there, but when you do, it's breathtaking. Castle Rock, hidden gem of the Greenville highway, sees the steady sun set over Carolina farmland day in, day out, year after year, farther back than anyone can remember. The river shines like liquid gold, painted to match the flame-colored hills in fall. I feel like I'm being let in on some cosmic secret - the mountains put on this show just for me. And I watch as the last sliver of orange light flashes, and then disappears behind the next ridge over. Coming down from the mountain, we can see only in part, shining our flashlights in as many places as possible so we don't slip and fall down the steep path. And the rest of the night is spent, largely, recovering from the experience.

Salt Lake City is located smack in the middle of a valley. "Guarded well by mountains," it's magnificent in its own way. But instead of the unfettered vista of Castle Rock, I'm getting used to a very framed view. There are definitions, limits, to my reality. And a place I expected to be cold and frigid turns out to be warm, even inviting. And the frost and snow I'd so long awaited comes too-little-too-late to my Eastern home. And I sing...

Now we can say that nothing's lost and only change brings round the prophecy
Where now it's melting, the solid frost was once a veil on greener landscapes we would see
Beneath my surface the water's heating
And steam comes up and out the tears you see me shine
For every strange and bitter moment there was never a better time

Beneath my surface a song is rising
It may be simple while it hides its true intent
We may be looking for our deliverance but it has already been sent
It's in the night fall when the light falls
And what you've seen isn't there anymore
It's in our blind trust that love will find us
Just like it has before