The Mountaintop Movement: Act 3
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The Transfiguration
We last saw Moses on Nebo. He stood beside the LORD, looking out over a land he would never enter, hearing God say:
“This is the land of which I swore to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, ‘I will give it to your offspring.’ I have let you see it with your eyes, but you shall not go over there.” (Deuteronomy 34:4)
He died there “the servant of the LORD” (Deuteronomy 34:5), buried by God Himself in a valley no one else could find (34:6). Joshua led Israel across the Jordan. The land was possessed, then partially lost, then partially reclaimed. Judges rose and fell. Kings were crowned and buried. The temple was built, defiled, and rebuilt. Empires kept changing the flags they flew over the same hills Moses once saw from a distance.
Centuries passed. The soil of Canaan—this Promised Land—watched Abraham’s descendants sin, repent, wander, and wait.
And then, in a small Judean town within that land, a child was born:
“Unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:11)
The God who spoke from the flames of Horeb and from the heights of Sinai stepped into the story in human flesh. The LORD of the land moved into the land as a carpenter’s son.
We fast-forward again. The child has grown. Jesus of Nazareth walks these very roads—teaching, healing, casting out demons, cleansing lepers, calming storms. Everywhere He goes, words from the Law and the Prophets wake up and stand at attention. Blind eyes open. Dead bodies rise. Sins are forgiven. And yet the disciples are confused. Just before this act opens, Jesus has asked them, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter has answered:
“You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” (Matthew 16:16)
Immediately afterward, Jesus begins to speak openly of rejection, suffering, and death:
“The Son of Man must suffer many things… and be killed, and on the third day be raised.” (Luke 9:22)
He tells them that following Him means denying themselves, taking up their cross, and losing their lives for His sake (Luke 9:23–24). The kingdom does not look like the triumphant, immediate victory they imagined. Their heads are spinning.
Into that confusion, Jesus leads three of them up another mountain.
A High Mountain Inside the Promise
“After six days Jesus took with him Peter and James, and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain by themselves.”
(Matthew 17:1; cf. Mark 9:2)
Luke tells us this climb is “to pray” (Luke 9:28). The Gospels do not name the mountain. Tradition has suggested different peaks, but Scripture is deliberately quiet on that point. What it does make clear is where they are: somewhere in the north of Israel, on a “high mountain,” firmly inside the land Moses saw but never entered.
Peter, James, and John follow Jesus as the light fades and the air grows cooler. Their sandals scrape against rock. Their muscles ache. Their hearts carry more questions than they know how to form into words. Luke says that as Jesus prays, they become “heavy with sleep” (Luke 9:32). Everything feels ordinary and human and tired—until it doesn’t.
“As he was praying, the appearance of his face was altered, and his clothing became dazzling white.” (Luke 9:29)
“He was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became white as light.” (Matthew 17:2)
Mark adds that His garments became “intensely white, as no one on earth could bleach them” (Mark 9:3). The same face that has been streaked with road dust, the same clothes that have been tugged by crowds, suddenly blaze with a brightness they cannot look at directly.
Once, the glory of the LORD descended on Sinai in cloud and fire and the whole mountain trembled (Exodus 19). Moses went up while the people stayed far off. When he begged, “Please show me your glory,” the LORD answered:
“You cannot see my face, for man shall not see me and live.” (Exodus 33:20)
Moses was hidden in the cleft of a rock and allowed only a glimpse of God’s back as His goodness passed by (Exodus 33:21–23). Now, on another mountain in the very land Moses once saw from afar, that same glory shines through human flesh. The radiance that once wrapped the mountain now radiates from the Man standing on it.
As the disciples struggle to take it in, they realize they are not alone.
Two Men in Glory
“And behold, there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him.” (Matthew 17:3)
Luke fills in the detail:
“And behold, two men were talking with him, Moses and Elijah, who appeared in glory and spoke of his departure which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.” (Luke 9:30–31)
Let those names settle in your mind. Elijah—the prophet who called down fire on Mount Carmel, who confronted kings, who was taken up in a whirlwind (2 Kings 2:11). And Moses—the man whose last recorded view of this land came from a mountaintop on the wrong side of the river. Moses, who died in Moab and was buried by the LORD. Moses, who never set foot in Canaan during his earthly life.
Now he is here, in glory, standing on a high mountain in the Promised Land, with his feet on the very soil he once saw only from a distance. The man who heard, “you shall not go over there” (Deuteronomy 34:4), is standing there.
He is not hovering at the edges, craning his neck from the sidelines. He is side by side with the incarnate Son, in conversation. If we have really let Numbers 27 and Deuteronomy 34 sink in—if we have felt that ache of “almost”—this scene should take the breath out of us.
God did not go back and erase Meribah. He did not quietly change the record so that Moses eventually slipped over the Jordan. He did something far more profound. He brought Moses into the land in resurrection glory, beside the One who fulfills everything the land was ever meant to hint at.
Luke adds one more crucial detail: they “spoke of his departure”—literally, His exodus—“which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem” (Luke 9:31). The man who led Israel’s first exodus out of Egypt is now talking with Jesus about a second, greater Exodus.
The first exodus freed slaves from Pharaoh’s grip.
This Exodus will free sinners from sin and death.
The first exodus passed through blood-stained doors and parted seas into a temporary inheritance.
This Exodus will pass through cross and grave into an eternal kingdom.
Here, the Law (Moses) and the Prophets (Elijah) stand beside the One they’ve always pointed toward, discussing the Cross that will redeem them and everyone who trusts in Him. God’s mercy toward Moses does not bypass sin; it passes straight through the sacrifice of Christ. Moses is not on this mountain because God finally decided Meribah didn’t matter. He is here because the Lamb of God is about to take away the sin of the world—including the sin of the man next to Him.
The Voice From the Cloud
By now Peter, James, and John are fully awake.
“When they became fully awake they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him.” (Luke 9:32)
They watch Jesus shining, Moses and Elijah wrapped in glory, the three of them speaking about an Exodus they cannot yet comprehend. Peter does what Peter often does when awe and confusion collide: he opens his mouth.
“Rabbi, it is good that we are here. Let us make three tents, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah.” (Mark 9:5)
Matthew has him say, “Lord, it is good that we are here…” (Matthew 17:4). Luke gently comments that he said this “not knowing what he said” (Luke 9:33). On the surface, Peter’s offer sounds honoring—three tents, three shelters, one for each glorious figure. Stay here. Capture this moment.
But without realizing it, he has begun to flatten the scene. Three radiant figures, three dwellings, almost three equals.
Heaven does not let that stand.
“As he was saying these things, a cloud came and overshadowed them, and they were afraid as they entered the cloud.” (Luke 9:34)
This is the same kind of glory-cloud that once filled tabernacle and temple so that the priests could not stand to minister (Exodus 40:34–35; 1 Kings 8:10–11). From within it, a voice speaks:
“This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” (Matthew 17:5)
We heard this voice at Jesus’ baptism (Matthew 3:17). Now, in the presence of Moses and Elijah, the Father repeats it. He does not say, “These are my three great ones; honor them all the same.” He singles out One: This is My beloved Son. I delight in Him. Listen to Him.
For Israel, this moment answers a promise that has been hanging in the air since Deuteronomy. Long ago, Moses had told the people:
“The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you… it is to him you shall listen.”
(Deuteronomy 18:15)
Now Moses himself stands on the mountain while the Father identifies that Prophet and echoes his own words: “Listen to Him.”
The disciples collapse in terror.
“When the disciples heard this, they fell on their faces and were terrified.” (Matthew 17:6)
They know, deep in their bones, that this is the same God who made Sinai shake. Then something profoundly gentle happens:
“But Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Rise, and have no fear.’ And when they lifted up their eyes, they saw no one but Jesus only.” (Matthew 17:7–8)
The cloud has lifted. The visible blaze of glory is veiled again in Galilean skin. Moses and Elijah are nowhere to be seen. Only Jesus remains. The Law and the Prophets have borne witness and stepped back. The Son stands alone at the center.
The God Who Finished Moses’ Story
They descend the mountain in silence. Jesus commands them not to tell anyone what they have seen “until the Son of Man has risen from the dead” (Mark 9:9). Mark says they keep this matter to themselves, “questioning what this rising from the dead might mean” (Mark 9:10). They have just seen glory; they still do not understand the road that glory will take.
Years later, Peter will reach back to this night when he wants the church to know he is not passing on religious fiction:
“We did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty.” (2 Peter 1:16)
Then he describes the scene:
“For when he received honor and glory from God the Father, and the voice was borne to him by the Majestic Glory, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased,’ we ourselves heard this very voice… for we were with him on the holy mountain.” (2 Peter 1:17–18)
When Peter wants to anchor the church in the reality of Jesus’ majesty, he points to this mountain—the night he saw the Son’s glory, heard the Father’s voice, and watched Moses and Elijah stand beside Jesus and then fade from view.
For those of us who have been standing with Moses on Abarim and Nebo—feeling the weight of discipline and the ache of “almost”—this memory does something else.
It answers a fear we rarely say out loud.
Moses in the Promise Land
Our fear sounds something like this: If Moses could end up shut out, what about me? If he could die with his toes just short of the border, is God going to say to me, “You’ve gone too far; you’ve failed too many times; you can see My goodness but not enter”?
Numbers 27 and Deuteronomy 34 will not let us treat sin lightly. They show us a holy God who will not be treated as common. Moses’ disobedience matters. Leadership matters. God’s name being honored among His people matters.
But if we stop there, we quietly adopt a story the Bible does not tell: that discipline in this life must mean disqualification forever, that one failure writes the last line, that God is eager to stamp “almost” over the stories of His own.
The mountain of Transfiguration blows that story apart.
Here is Moses—disciplined, yes; kept from crossing with Joshua, yes—now standing in glory on a mountain inside the very land he once only saw. He is not outside looking in. He is in. And more than that, he is standing next to the One whose face he once could not see and live (Exodus 33:20). The glory that would have killed him on Sinai now shines from the human face of Jesus, and Moses lives and speaks in that light.
How is that possible? Not because God softened about sin over time. Not because Meribah quietly slid off the record. It is possible because the One between them is on His way to the cross. On this mountain, Moses and Elijah speak with Jesus about His exodus—His death and resurrection—which He will “accomplish at Jerusalem” (Luke 9:31). The Son of God will walk into the curse of the Law Moses carried (Galatians 3:13), bear the judgment that should fall on sinners, and rise to bring many sons to glory (Hebrews 2:10).
Moses stands here because Jesus will die for him. The same God who disciplined him on Abarim and finished his earthly race on Nebo has written an ending that passes through death into resurrection joy. The story that looked as though it stopped just short of the border was never the whole story.
Facing Our Own Mountain Moments
If you’ve been reading Moses’ story with a knot in your stomach, this is the place where his mountains start to touch your own.
Maybe you have your own Meribah lodged in your memory—a season you wish you could rewrite, words you can’t unsay, choices that still echo in the lives around you. You read that Moses was kept from crossing with Joshua, and the whisper rises, If it could end like that for him, what hope is there for me?
Numbers and Deuteronomy make sure we don’t shrink God down to something soft and sentimental. The LORD does not shrug at sin. He does not say, “It’s fine,” when it is not. Moses’ disobedience matters. The holiness of God’s Name among His people matters. Some of our choices, like his, have consequences that do not simply vanish in this life.
But the Transfiguration shows us that for those who belong to Him, discipline is not the same as abandonment, and “no” in this age is not the final word over the story.
On Abarim, Moses hears the verdict of discipline and still prays, “Don’t leave them without a shepherd” (Numbers 27:15–17). On Nebo, he sees the land and dies “the servant of the LORD,” buried by the very God who disciplined him (Deuteronomy 34:5–6). On the mountain with Jesus, he stands in glory inside the land he once only saw from afar, beside the face he could not see and live at Sinai—and now lives to behold.
Those three mountains are not just ancient geography. They are a pattern of how the unchanging God deals with His own.
He is holy enough to confront our Meribahs.
He is faithful enough to finish our stories with His own hands.
He is merciful enough to write an ending we could never have imagined.
And that same pattern runs straight through the Cross.
Moses is not on that high mountain because God “got over” Meribah. He is there because the One standing beside him has borne the full weight of the Law Moses carried. Jesus has walked the hill of Calvary, taken the curse into His own body (Galatians 3:13), and risen so that sinners can stand in the presence of glory and live. The greater Exodus He “accomplished at Jerusalem” (Luke 9:31) is the reason a once-exiled shepherd can stand in the Promised Land in resurrection light.
That matters for you.
If you are in Christ, your story is folded into His. The same God who disciplined Moses is the God who says to you:
“Those whom the Lord loves he disciplines…” (Hebrews 12:6)
and, at the very same time:
“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:1)
He has not changed His holiness. He has not changed His hatred of sin. But He has borne the judgment Himself in His Son, so that every act of discipline in a believer’s life is now the firm hand of a Father, not the cold sentence of a judge. The mountains of Abarim and Nebo still tell the truth about His purity. The mountain of Transfiguration tells the truth about His intent—to bring His people all the way in.
So imagine, for a moment, that you are standing there with Peter, James, and John.
You see the Man you’ve been following blaze with a light you cannot stare at for long. You see Moses beside Him—not exiled on the far side of the Jordan, but in the land. You hear the Father’s voice thunder from the cloud:
“This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” (Matthew 17:5)
When the cloud lifts and the fear slowly drains from your limbs, you look up and see “no one but Jesus only” (Matthew 17:8). Moses is gone from sight. Elijah is gone from sight. The Law and the Prophets have done their work. The Son stands alone.
And later, as you remember your own failures and wonder whether you have finally worn out God’s patience, this same Jesus says:
“Whoever comes to me I will never cast out.” (John 6:37)
The God who buried Moses is the God who raised Jesus. The One who would not bend at Meribah is the One who would not spare His own Son, “but gave him up for us all” (Romans 8:32). If He did that, Paul asks, “how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?”
The Mountaintop Movement is, in the end, not just about Moses making it into the land. It is about the Lord of the land standing there in human flesh, shining in glory, on His way to the Cross—carrying the whole weight of Moses’ story, and yours, into a kingdom that no wilderness failure can finally shut you out of if you are His.
The man on Abarim, accepting discipline and asking for a shepherd.
The man on Nebo, seeing the land and being gathered to his people.
The man on the mountain with Jesus, in glory, inside the Promised Land.
Same man. Same God. Same unchanging pattern of holy love.
And in Christ, that pattern now holds you.
