The associated reading for this reflection can be found in your Every Sacred Sunday Mass journal or online here.
There have been a handful of moments in my life when I have known with absolute certainty that God is real and that He cares for me:
An experience in adoration when I tangibly felt His presence.
A crossroads after college when I heard His voice directing my next steps.
An unwavering conviction, as I married my husband, that this man was intended for me.
These moments are powerful. When I am in them, I think to myself, “how can I ever doubt again?”.
And yet I do.
Hard times come and, much to my own frustration, I no longer have that feeling of certainty. I only have the memory of it. It is at those times that I think of Peter.
If anyone ever experienced a moment of pure certainty about the person of Jesus Christ it was Peter. At the time of the Transfiguration, this great apostle had already spent years with Jesus, slowly coming to believe the stunning truth that the man from Nazareth is the Messiah. And then comes this supernatural moment on the mountaintop that confirms it all. A blinding vision. The voice of God. Surely in that moment Peter felt that it would be impossible ever to doubt again.
Now he knows.
Yet soon afterwards, we find Peter denying Christ three times. How could this happen? If it didn’t prevent such a terrible fall, did the Transfiguration even matter?
We have only to look at the second reading today to find out. In his epistle, Peter doesn’t pass on theories or “cleverly devised myth.” The foundation of his faith is something much more profound. How well Peter knows that in moments of terror and pain, philosophies and fine words fall apart. They can’t withstand the shattering impact of suffering. So instead he passes on something to which he himself is an eyewitness: the story of the Transfiguration.
Our own lived experiences matter just as much. Yes, we sometimes fall just as Peter did. But the same thing upholds us: the memory of our own mountaintop moments. For a time, they may be reduced from their original splendor to just lamps shining in the dark places of our lives, but they are a rock to hold onto until once again day dawns and the morning star rises in our hearts.
Paula Golbabai is a wife and mother raising four kids and a flock of chickens with her husband in College Station, Texas. She loves accounting, good books, and watching the adventure of her life unfold as she keeps doing her best to say “yes” to God. You can find her discussing holiness in the mom life on the podcast she co-hosts, Everyday Fiat.
