I made reference a few days ago to a story that's found in Matthew 17. Peter, James, and John join Jesus on what we call the Mount of Transfiguration. Jesus is changed in their presence. His face shines like the sun, and his clothes become as white as light (17:2). Then, Moses and Elijah show up. It's all rather mysterious and overwhelming and awesome (in the literal sense of that word).
The episode becomes the epitome of a mountaintop experience, a descriptive phrase that designates spiritual impact. It's no wonder that Peter wants to stay there; who wouldn't want to stay on the mountaintop?
But staying there is not possible. Eventually, we all come back down to the valley.
In the case of Peter, James, and John, they come down to a crisis in the valley. Often, I've thought about the inevitability of coming back down to the real world - and what we're likely to find when we do that. Almost every spiritual mountaintop in my life has been followed by crisis of some kind. (And often that crisis follows the mountaintop experience immediately.)
But today I notice something more in the story.
What I notice is this: the crisis in the valley was happening while Peter, James, and John were on the mountaintop! The scene that is described once they come down is largely told in the past tense. Some hard things have happened. The other disciples have been unable to deal with a problem, and the problem now has grown large. While this wonderful scene of worship was unfolding up above, trouble was brewing down below. The problem didn't start when Peter, James, and John came down; it was already happening before they ever came down.
Is there an application? Sure. There's always an application.
I've described my time in Ethiopia as a spiritual mountaintop. Just a few days back, I'm learning of some ugly things that happened in the valley while I was on the mountain. Problems that didn't start when I climbed down - but problems that were brewing the whole time I was away.
And what sadness it is to come back to that reality.
I realize that we weren't made to live on the mountain. I realize that we can't stay there. I realize that we are required to come down. And I realize that life on the flatland is our reality - and our calling. So I'm not surprised by any of that.
But I will also say this.
While I am sure that I will need to live in some valley, I'm not so sure that it has to be this one. Even if the valley is where we must live, I'm wondering if there might be other valleys to consider.
I know - a valley is a valley.
But the valleys might not all be the same. At least, that's what I'm wondering today . . .