In this message, I invite you to explore the Transfiguration of Our Lord, a profound event that reveals God’s radiant glory and challenges us to follow Christ into the heart of our daily lives. Drawing from my own memories of a confirmation retreat in State College, Pennsylvania, under the mentorship of Dr. Nelson Frank, I reflect on the Celtic concept of “thin places”—those sacred moments where the boundary between heaven and earth becomes porous and the divine presence feels especially near. By examining the experiences of Moses on Mount Sinai and the eyewitness testimony of Peter, we see how these mountaintop revelations are not meant for us to hide away in “shelters,” but to transform and equip us for the journeys through the valleys. Ultimately, I want to emphasize that our spiritual life hinges on the Father’s singular command to “Listen to him,” a call that requires us to pay attention to Jesus’ teachings and find direction in His Word even when the world feels chaotic.

The Transfiguration of the Lord, February 15, 2026. A sermon preached at Ebenezer and Black Creek United Methodist Churches.

Texts: Exodus 24:12-18; Psalm 2; 2 Peter 1:16-21; Matthew 17:1-9

Listen to Him: A Holiness That Engages the World

Liturgical Context: The Bracketing of Ordinary Time

In the rhythm of the church year, we find ourselves standing at a liturgical crossroads. Today we observe the Transfiguration of our Lord, a day moment that serves as a liturgical “bracket” for this first section of Ordinary Time. Our calendar is structured with two blocks of Ordinary Time; this first one, nestled between the Epiphany of Our Lord and the penitence of Ash Wednesday, begins and ends with a manifestation of divine glory. On the first Sunday of this season, we celebrated the Baptism of the Lord, remembering how the heavens were opened and the Spirit descended like a dove. Now, as we prepare to enter the shadow of Lent, we ascend the mountain. The symmetry is profound: just as the Father’s voice broke through the waters of the Jordan to claim his Son, that same voice now breaks through the cloud on the heights to command our attention. Both Sundays utilize the white paraments upon our altars, signaling a holiness that disrupts the “ordinary.” This liturgical transition from the white of the altar to the impending purple of Lent reminds me of a season in my own youth, where the white of a mountaintop vision met the cold, gray reality of a Pennsylvania winter.

A Gray Stone Foundation: The Ministry of Dr. Nelson Frank

In our Wesleyan tradition, the instruction of confirmands is far more than a classroom requirement; it is a sacred “responsibility of the senior pastor” to shepherd the next generation into the heart of the faith. These formative experiences serve as a foundation for lifelong discipleship, where the character of a mentor becomes a living window into the nature of God. I remember my own journey at St. Paul’s United Methodist Church in State College. Our pastor was Dr. Nelson Frank—a man whose very name was a source of identity confusion for me as a boy. Was it Nelson Frank or Frank Nelson? Both names can be first names or last names! In a season where I was searching for my own identity, his was fixed and steady, even if the order of his names confused me.

Dr. Frank was a study in monochromatic faithfulness. He was a man small of stature but large in spirit, always clad in a gray suit with a neatly trimmed gray mustache. He drove a gray Cadillac from a gray stone parsonage to a gray stone church. This gray-on-gray existence matched the atmospheric weight of State College winters, where the days were often dreary and the roadside slush was darkened to a somber charcoal by car and truck exhaust. Because Dr. Frank was so short, the church had constructed a special wooden podium for him to stand on behind the pulpit. It was a powerful metaphor for the task of the preacher: a human life being elevated just enough so that the height of the Word of God might be made visible to the people. It was during this gray season, on a cold confirmation retreat where ice still clung to the earth, that I first sought clarity on the mystery of the mountain.

The Question of the Mountain: Defining the Transfiguration

Humanity has a natural, perhaps even holy, confusion when confronted by the supernatural. We see this in the “inner circle”—Peter, James, and John—who were invited into the thin places of Christ’s ministry but often stumbled over what they found there. During a question-and-answer session on that retreat, as we huddled over hot cocoa, I raised my hand and asked, “Dr. Frank, what is up with the Transfiguration?” I wanted to know the “So What?” of this strange, glowing moment.

He explained that the mountain was a site of necessary preparation for the coming ordeal. In the presence of Moses and Elijah—the great representatives of the Law and the Prophets—Jesus was not merely being honored; he was being counseled and comforted for the suffering that awaited him in Jerusalem. The Law and the Prophets find their fulfillment in Christ, but that fulfillment required the cross. For the disciples, this “glimmer of hope” would serve as a strategic gift. It was a vision of majesty and glory intended to sustain them through the coming darkness of the crucifixion, an assurance that when their Lord was beaten and tried, the glory they saw on the mountain remained his true identity. This historical moment functions as one of those rare “thin places” where the veil between our world and God’s reality becomes porous.

Thin Places: Where Heaven and Earth Converge

The Celtic tradition, championed by St. Patrick, gives us the beautiful language of “thin places.” These are not merely geographical locations but moments where the boundary between heaven and earth, the sacred and the secular, becomes exceptionally thin. They are spaces of profound spiritual awareness where the presence of the divine is not just a theological concept but a felt reality. These places are revealing; they strip away the distractions of the world to show us things as they truly are.

Throughout Scripture, we see these convergences: Moses on Mount Sinai enveloped in a cloud, Elijah at Mount Horeb hearing the “sound of sheer silence,” and even the heavy, porous atmosphere Jesus experienced as he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane. We encounter our own thin places in “quiet spots” at home or in the stillness of a sanctuary. However, the significance of a thin place is not that we are meant to inhabit it forever. Peter’s impulse was to build shelters, to hoard the glory and stay on the heights. But the very nature of a thin place is that it equips us for the thick, difficult places of life. We are transformed in the presence of God so that we might carry that radiance back down into the valley.

The Scriptural Witnesses: From Sinai to the Psalter

The Old Testament provides the essential vocabulary and prophetic weight necessary to understand the radiance of Christ. Without these ancient witnesses, the Transfiguration is merely a spectacle; with them, it is a declaration of sovereign intent.

The Mountain Encounter (Exodus 24:12-18)

In Exodus, we find Moses ascending Sinai, disappearing into a cloud that looked like a devouring fire. For forty days and nights, he dwelt in a glory so intense that when he finally descended, his own face radiated a light that terrified the people. This radiance was so heavy, so weighted with the presence of God, that it required a veil. In our modern age, we often approach the sacred with a casual familiarity, but the experience of Moses reminds us of the true weight of glory. We are not just spectators of God’s holiness; we are invited to be participants in a relationship that changes our very countenance.

The Anointed King (Psalm 2:7)

Psalm 2 offers the prophetic foundation for the voice from the cloud. When we hear the declaration, “you are my son; today I have begotten you,” we are hearing an eternal decree of Christ’s kingship and authority. This scriptural witness provides an anchor when our modern world feels unmoored and chaotic. It assures us that Christ is not merely a figure of history but a living savior whose sovereignty is the absolute ground of our hope.

Eyewitness Majesty: The Testimony of Peter

Apostolic testimony is the shield that protects our faith from being reduced to clever “myths” or mere moral philosophy. In 2 Peter 1:16-21, the elderly apostle reflects on the mountain with a clarity born of decades of trial. He insists that he was an eyewitness to the majesty and glory of Jesus. He heard the voice; he saw the light that overpowers any darkness.

Peter’s insistence on the physical reality of the Transfiguration reminds us that our own “stories of faith” function as modern-day witnesses. When we share how God has moved in our lives—how the light has broken through our own “gray” seasons—we are not sharing fairy tales. We are testifying to the goodness and grace of a God who still breaks through the cloud. This leads us to the climax of the narrative in Matthew’s Gospel.

Matthew 17: The Vision and the Divine Command

In Matthew 17, we see the radical nature of God’s intervention. On that high mountain, Jesus’ face shines like the sun, and his clothes become a dazzling white that no bleach on earth could achieve. Moses and Elijah appear—the representatives of grace through the Law and the Prophets—and they are in conversation with him.

Peter, overwhelmed and perhaps a bit desperate to manage the unmanageable, offers to build three tents. With his “South Galilee” accent, he essentially suggests they all just “hang out” in the glory. It is a relatable, human moment: when we experience God’s presence, our first instinct is often to try and domesticate it or stay within its comfort. But God interrupts Peter’s building plans with a booming voice from a bright cloud: “this is my son, the beloved... listen to him!” This command is the blueprint for a life filled with purpose. When the disciples finally looked up from their faces in the dirt, the spectacle had vanished. Moses and Elijah were gone. They saw “Jesus alone.” The spectacular had passed, leaving them with the one they were now commanded to follow into the valley.

Application: Three Ways to Listen

The glory of the mountain is meant to equip us for the journey toward the cross. Listening to him is the way we bring the holiness of the mountain into the engagement of the world.

1. Listen to Him About Who He Is

We must resist the modern temptation to define Jesus on our own terms. He is not merely a “good teacher,” a “moral philosopher,” or someone tailored to fit our contemporary political sensitivities. The Transfiguration reveals him as the radiant Son of God, the one in whom the Father is well pleased. We do not define his identity; we receive it from the Father. When life gets confusing, we must listen to him about his own sovereignty.

2. Listen to Him in His Word

In our Wesleyan tradition, Scripture is the “lamp” for our feet and the shaper of our hearts. To listen to him today means more than just a casual reading of the Bible. It means opening the Bible with the expectation that the Holy Spirit will speak. We listen to him by immersing ourselves in his teachings, letting the Word of God dwell in us richly.

3. Listen to Him in Daily Obedience

After the dazzling light, Jesus led his disciples down the mountain. He said, “get up and do not be afraid,” and he led them toward the ordeal of Jerusalem. Listening to Jesus means following him into the ordinary and the difficult places. It means loving our neighbors, seeking justice, and showing grace in the “slushy gray” of our daily lives. This transformation is not something to be hoarded in a “thin place”; it is a gift that is only truly experienced when it is given away.

Conclusion and Charge

The Transfiguration is not a distant story of ancient glory; it is a call and a claim from the Father upon your life this very day. God graciously reveals who Jesus is so that we might have the hope necessary to follow him where he leads. Let us seek him on the heights, trust him in the depths, and share his love in the everyday valleys of our world.

Go forth now to listen to him, to trust his Word as your guiding light, and to step out in faith, empowered by his Spirit.

+ In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.