You will do well to be attentive to it,
as to a lamp shining in a dark place,
until day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.
– St. Peter
I love a good fire, whether it’s a fire in a fireplace or a campfire, or even my little propane fire pit. In my neck of the woods, even though it’s August, it’s unseasonable cool, and so tonight is a good fire night. I know many are having them, I can smell the comforting scent of burning wood in the neighborhood as it drifts in my window. But staring into the fire – it’s different. There’s something mesmerizing, almost entrancing about staring into a flame. I often find I have my deepest thought. When you’re around a fire with a group, often that draws out some of the deepest, most vulnerable, most real conversations, does it not? It’s the light of the flames bouncing off our faces, we’re more attentive to what’s going on, we’re drawn into it.
This is what the Transfiguration means to me. It is God in all His glory, just as with the burning bush and Moses all those years ago. On top of that mountain, Jesus, is in His element, His true Divinity shines out, if for only a short time to Peter, James, and John. This has become my favorite mystery of the Rosary, and my favorite event in Scripture, as I often contemplate what those three ordinary men must have thought as they experienced this, and also what this experience actually was.
I wrote about the Transfiguration last spring, when I reflected on the journey up the mountain, and how much of a struggle it must have been, perhaps Peter, James, and John were like kids in the backseat on a trip, asking, “are we there yet?” That time it was all about the journey we are on in life, the trials, the climb up to Christ.
But today, the one thing, that sticks out to me is the verse from St. Peter, where it’s after Jesus has ascended to Heaven and he is writing his letters, when he can finally tell the world what he witnessed. Jesus is that lamp, shining in the dark, and we would do well to be attentive.
In other words, Jesus is that fire, that flame in the night, He draws us into Him, and we’re attentive to Him, entranced and mesmerized by Him. I have to think that this is only a small feeling of what those three disciples felt that night on top of that mountain. They must have just been paralyzed and struck by Gods amazing light and beauty, warmth and love.
My favorite thing about this is that we get to experience this feeling every time we go to Mass. Every time we go to Adoration. Jesus is there, in the flesh. Transfigured, transformed, before us. It’s calming to kneel before Him, after a long, challenging day, or after a joyous occasion, and feel His warmth, and His radiance. In those times, I look at Him like I do a flame – waiting for His grace and peace and love. He is an eternal fire that keeps on burning.
The funny thing is, just this last week, I was questioning it. All of it. Only for a split second. As I mentioned last week, It’s been a tough few months, years really, as I’ve been discerning and seeking and praying about a certain direction in my life. Troubled by certain things that are happening, (or perhaps not happening at my pace). At times, it’s been at best frustrating, and at worst, my mind and soul has been filled with distress and anxiety and fear – and depression. I’m working through this, with the help of others and with God. Writing helps. At times, I’ve literally felt Jesus’ presence. At others, I’ve questioned whether He has abandoned me.
This past Tuesday was one of those days.
We volunteer for an hour of adoration, my family and I, every Tuesday evening. This Tuesday, my wife could not make it and so it was just my 9-year-old son and I. It’s just the two of us in the chapel. We’re 45 minutes into the hour, and I’m having doubts about everything I’m struggling to attain, questioning whether I’m making the right decisions, questing simply why. I’m not hearing anything – I just hear silence, and my distracted thoughts.
I did not feel this warmth around me. I don’t feel that warm flame before me to gaze into.
My son is next to me, reading. I have my head in my hands, bowed down, contemplating everything. Thinking about how my problems are not that big in the grand scheme of everything, that others in this world have it much worse. Knowing that I should not feel this way, but yet I still do. It still hurts. It still weighs on me and paralyzes me. I have all kinds of doubts in my mind.
And for a few seconds, I even begin to question Jesus. Are you there? Are you even really there? Are you listening? I’m asking for your guidance, I’m seeking your love, and your direction, I’m looking to do your will – just help me to see what it is. Are you even there? The room was cold, hard, silent. It felt dark. For a split second – a nanosecond – a doubt entered my mind.
And then immediately, as that thought went through my mind, I felt the warmth of a 9-year old’s hand on by back, rubbing it up and down, back and forth – slowly, lovingly, like a father would his son if he were hurt and in pain. My son had never done anything like that before, he was taking care of me. But I knew immediately that Jesus was reaching out to me, let me know he was there – with me. The warmth of Christ, His flame, was back in my soul, and those silly doubts left my mind. I knew Christ was there, in that Chapel, of course I did – and He let me know, from one son to another, that it was going to be alright. I feel it in my heart. Whatever happens, He is there.
Jesus comes to us in our darkest moments, He transfigures before us every day, in the Eucharist, and through other people. And His light is intoxicating, like a fire, like the most beautiful flame we can imagine, the most loving warmth you’ve ever felt. It’s amazing how He comes to us in the times we need it most, and how He works through other people. He reaches out to us, shows us His light, just when we need it.
Do we see him? Do we notice him? Are we open to Him? Are we attentive?
It’s in these times, these times of darkness, and when we continue that journey up that mountain and don’t stop, and don’t give into the doubt, when He reaches out to us and shows us His true divinity and His true humanity – who then, is the one who is transformed?
Jesus showed His divinity on that mountain top that day, but I believe that Peter, James, and John were transformed as well.
Jesus has the power to transform, to transfigure us as well, but only if we’re attentive to Him. Only if we’re open to Him. He’ll reach out to us, and He’ll most certainly be there when we can’t bear to look up. Be attentive to His presence in this world, like a gentle fire, and let Him transform you.
God Bless.
