Message: “Listen, Then Come Down”
Scripture: 1 Kings 19:11-13, Philippians 2:5-11

Listen to Him

Good morning.

I think I understand Peter more than I used to.

Jesus takes them up the mountain.

And suddenly everything changes.

His face shines.

His clothes become dazzling white.

Moses and Elijah appear.

A cloud covers them.

And then a voice from heaven:

“This is my Son, the Beloved… listen to him.”

It is overwhelming. Beautiful. Holy.

And Peter says, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.”

Of course it is.

Who wouldn’t want to stay there?

We Like the Mountain

I like the mountain.

I like when worship feels alive.

When the music lifts us.

When prayer feels close.

When church feels peaceful.

I like when relationships are smooth.

When there is warmth.

When there is no tension in the room.

I like that.

And if I’m honest, when things are going well, I want to stay there.

But I also know something about myself.

When relationships get strained — especially in the church — I feel it deeply.

When words are misunderstood.

When there is distance instead of closeness.

When something feels unsettled.

My instinct is not always to move toward it.

Sometimes I want to retreat into safer things.

Into preaching.

Into theology.

Into the “beautiful” parts of ministry.

I understand Peter saying, “Let’s build tents. Let’s stay here.”

But God interrupts him.

“This is my Son… listen to him.”

Not stay.

Not preserve the feeling.

Listen.

Listening Is Harder Than Seeing

It’s interesting.

God doesn’t say, “Look at him.”

He says, “Listen to him.”

Seeing is impressive.

Listening is demanding.

In Scripture, listening is not passive.

It means alignment.

It means obedience.

It means I let Jesus shape my next step.

And that is harder than enjoying a powerful moment.

Because Jesus says things like:

Forgive.

Do not be afraid.

Take up your cross.

Go first.

Love your enemies.

Listening to him means I don’t just admire him.

I follow him.

Glory Does Not Cancel the Cross

We need to remember where this story sits.

Just before this, Jesus has told his disciples that he will suffer.

That he will be rejected.

That he will go to the cross.

And right after this, they go down the mountain.

The light does not replace the cross.

It prepares them for it.

Transfiguration is not escape.

It is clarity.

God gives them a glimpse of glory so that when they see Jesus hanging on a cross, they will remember who he truly is.

The glory is real.

But it points toward self-giving love.

And that changes everything.

Coming Down

After the voice, the disciples fall to the ground in fear.

And Jesus does something simple and beautiful.

He touches them.

“Rise, and do not be afraid.”

Then he leads them down.

Down into confusion.

Down into need.

Down into a world that is still broken.

Jesus does not stay on the mountain.

He goes down.

Philippians 2 tells us this is who he is.

Though he was in the form of God, he did not cling to it.

He emptied himself.

He humbled himself.

He became obedient — even to death on a cross.

God’s glory looks like descent.

God’s power looks like humility.

God’s love moves downward.

Where This Hits Me

This is where it gets personal for me.

When relationships in the church become strained, I feel unsteady.

Maybe you do too.

When there is misunderstanding.

When something feels tense.

When trust feels fragile.

In those moments, I don’t naturally feel brave.

I feel defensive.

Or tired.

Or tempted to avoid it.

And I hear this text again.

“Listen to him.”

And I have to ask myself:

Am I listening to my fear?

Or am I listening to Jesus?

Because Jesus does not avoid broken relationships.

He moves toward them.

He does not protect himself from rejection.

He absorbs it.

He does not stay where it is comfortable.

He comes down.

And I am still learning what that means.

Learning to pause before defending myself.

Learning to seek understanding before explanation.

Learning to enter hard conversations with humility instead of control.

That is not easy.

That is cross-shaped love.

So What?

So what does this mean for us?

It means worship is not an escape from life.

It is training for love.

The light we receive here is not something to keep.

It is something to carry.

Your valley this week might not be dramatic.

It might be a strained relationship.

A difficult conversation.

A family tension.

A quiet disappointment.

And instead of asking, “How can I avoid this?”

Maybe we ask, “What is Jesus saying to me here?”

Listen to him.

Maybe he is saying:

Be patient.

Go first.

Ask forgiveness.

Stay present.

Do not be afraid.

The Gospel

And here is the good news.

We are not sent down alone.

Before the disciples descend, Jesus touches them.

“Rise. Do not be afraid.”

That is grace.

The Gospel is not that we must perfectly love.

The Gospel is that Christ has already come down first.

He has entered our brokenness.

He has carried our sin.

He has faced our hostility.

He has gone all the way to the cross.

Because he descended all the way into death, there is no valley where he is not already present.

There is no strained relationship where he is absent.

There is no place of tension where his grace cannot work.

We do not descend alone.

We follow the One who already went ahead of us.

That is the Gospel.

A Simple Invitation

So this week, I invite you to something simple.

Notice one person.

Just one.

And do one quiet act of mercy.

Not dramatic.

Not announced.

Just faithful.

Maybe it is a conversation you have been avoiding.

Maybe it is a word of reconciliation.

Maybe it is choosing to listen instead of react.

Listen to him.

And come down.

Because the mountain gives us vision.

But the valley is where love becomes real.

And when we follow Christ down,

the glory we glimpsed on the mountain

begins to shine through ordinary obedience.

In the name of the Creator,

and of the Son,

and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.