the transfiguration is just confusing, this moment of high revelation and the unquiet response of peter. a lot of snow fell yesterday. the air blew white and slow, the world wound down until it stopped. no school. no work. no cars on the road.
it is jesus’ lot to be made less of than he is. even then, when moses and elijah were there talking with him, listening to him, peter says we’ll build three memorials. not one. three. it is the great mission of every heart that can’t take it in – to say he is no different than other good men.
the earth sits under all this white. it waits. the creation’s longing sounds a little louder when the blanket, too cold for human hands, keeps us indoors. we watch from windows and see a world clear beyond our control. when jesus lays down his glory, it’s no simple thing. he allows everyone to misunderstand him and never says a mumbling word.
grace falls down at our feet everyday. we kick through it and we shovel it aside. we stare out from panes of glass and watch children play.
there is nothing that recreates the landscape like the waiting world covered in love.