The Transfiguration of the Servant | Mark 9:1-8
Sermon Summary
A Preview of Glory
Have you ever been so excited about a movie that you couldn’t wait for the previews? Maybe you were like me as a kid, sliding that VHS tape into the VCR, hearing the iconic “Coming soon to video and DVD,” and thinking, “Oh, I can’t wait for that!” We’d get just a minute or two of film snippets, but those glimpses stirred our imaginations. Even now, trailers remain a highlight of the theater experience, giving us a short, tantalizing look at what’s coming.
Well, in Mark 9, the disciples get something like a “preview”—not of a movie, but of Christ’s glory to come. Just six days before this event, Jesus had stunned them by saying, in effect, “Yes, I am the Messiah—but I’m going to suffer, be rejected, and die.” This was not the triumphant conqueror they’d been taught to expect. They’re reeling from that revelation. Then Jesus tells them, “There are some standing here who will not taste death until they see the kingdom of God come with power” (Mark 9:1). In other words, a handful of them are about to catch a glimpse, a preview, of something no one has fully seen yet: the glory of the risen, exalted Christ.
So Jesus takes three disciples—Peter, James, and John—up a high mountain. Many scholars believe this is Mount Hermon, the tallest peak in that northern region. Picture the dramatic scenery: imposing slopes, pockets of snow, probably crisp air. They arrive, and Luke’s Gospel mentions that Jesus prays for a while. Meanwhile, the three disciples drift off to sleep. Then, suddenly, they open their eyes to a spectacle they never could have anticipated: Jesus is transfigured before them. The text in Mark 9:2–3 says His appearance becomes radiant, His clothing shining brighter than “any fuller on earth” could whiten them. It’s a dazzling display, an outpouring of the glory that, until then, He had veiled beneath human flesh.
Now, for the disciples, this is a moment that leaves them slack-jawed. They’re seeing the majesty of Christ’s divine nature shining through. The same Savior who had just spoken of suffering and death is now robed in blazing light. It’s as though the curtain has been pulled back just for a few minutes, letting them preview Jesus’s true splendor—the splendor He would fully reveal at His resurrection and eventual return.
But there’s more. Moses and Elijah show up, conversing with Him. These two towering figures from Israel’s past both had mountaintop encounters with God—Moses on Sinai, Elijah on Horeb. They represent the Law and the Prophets. And here they stand with Jesus, the fulfillment of both Law and Prophets. Luke’s Gospel says they are speaking with Jesus specifically about His “exodus,” His upcoming departure that would accomplish redemption for God’s people. Moses and Elijah speak with the Son of God about His imminent suffering on the cross, a death that will break sin’s chains and set us free forever.
Just imagine the overwhelming wonder of this scene. The disciples see the radiance of Jesus’s face, they see the ultimate law-giver (Moses) and the great prophet (Elijah) conversing with Him. It’s a taste of Christ’s kingdom power, a quick flash of the glory that awaits. Jesus had promised that some would see the kingdom before they died—and this was it.
A Confirmation for the Disciples
Now, the disciples have been grappling with confusion. Six days earlier, Jesus had told them He would be rejected, suffer, and die before rising again. From their perspective, this doesn’t mesh with the Messiah they’ve been waiting for. So their hearts are heavy, and they’re probably questioning, “Is this really how the kingdom works?” Then all at once, on this mountain, they see glorious confirmation that Jesus is indeed the promised One. They see He is far more than just a wise teacher—He is the radiant Son of God.
Peter, of course, is Peter—impulsive and eager to speak even when words might fail him. Mark 9:5–6 describes how he blurts out, “Rabbi, it’s good that we are here. Let’s make three tabernacles—one for You, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” Mark comments that Peter said this because “he did not know what to say, for they were terrified.” In that overwhelmed state, he tries to memorialize the moment. He might be thinking, “We’ve got the dream team here—Moses, Elijah, and Jesus. Let’s stay!” He wants to freeze time.
His suggestion is not entirely out of left field. In the Jewish calendar, the Feast of Tabernacles celebrated God’s presence with His people; building shelters for Moses, Elijah, and Jesus might have felt like a reverential act. But Peter’s words—however well-meaning—imply putting Jesus on the same plane as these Old Testament heroes. This is where God Himself steps in to correct that notion.
Suddenly, a cloud descends. This is reminiscent of the cloud that filled the tabernacle or the temple in the Old Testament—the very presence of God. A bright, overshadowing cloud envelops them, and out of that cloud, the Father’s voice booms: “This is My beloved Son; listen to Him.” Then, just as suddenly, Moses and Elijah vanish, leaving Jesus alone.
In that instant, God publicly affirms who Christ is—His beloved Son. Notice the Father doesn’t say, “Listen to them,” or “Listen to Moses and Elijah.” He says, “Listen to Him.” The focus is riveted solely on Jesus. The law and the prophets ultimately point to Him; He is the fulfillment of all the covenantal shadows. The Father’s words ring like an exclamation point: “This is My Son, in whom I delight. Give Him your ears, your attention, your heart.”
Peter, James, and John drop to their faces in holy fear and wonder. They recognize that they’ve just witnessed something extraordinary: Jesus’s splendor, the Father’s voice, the presence of these two Old Testament giants, and then that final emphasis—only Jesus remains. It’s not the Old Covenant or the prophets who stand above all, but Jesus, God’s eternal Word made flesh.
For the disciples, this entire event is a stunning confirmation. They do not yet fully grasp all its implications, but they see that, despite the looming cross, Christ is undeniably glorious. His death will not negate His messianic mission; instead, it is the very path by which He will save and reign. So even if they can’t wrap their minds around every detail—like the timing of the kingdom—they can be assured, “We have witnessed His majesty. We know His claim is true.”
A Command to Listen to Jesus
What stands out so strongly is the Father’s command: “Listen to Him.” The cloud overshadowing them, the Old Testament figures vanished, the disciples trembling in awe. It’s as though God says, “Yes, in the past I spoke through the Law and the Prophets, but now My ultimate revelation is standing right in front of you. Hear Him!”
One of the biggest struggles for us today—no different from any age—is where we direct our ears and hearts. We live in a world bombarded by endless opinions and voices, from social media feeds to podcasts, news channels, and everyone’s “expert” take on how to live. In a single scroll through your phone, you’ll find a dozen competing worldviews. But in the swirl of all that noise, the Father’s voice still rises above: “This is My Son. Listen to Him.”
How do we do that? For starters, we begin with Scripture. The Gospels record the words and works of Jesus, and the rest of the New Testament unpacks the meaning of His life, death, and resurrection. We can’t obey “Listen to Him” if we’re not saturating ourselves with His words. Do we carve out time to feast on His Word daily? Do we ask His Spirit to shape our hearts as we read? We often complain that we can’t sense God’s leading, yet our Bibles remain closed. Perhaps, like Peter, we’re so eager to blurt out our own plans that we miss the gentle call of God to simply hush and hear.
The second way we “listen” to Christ is to humbly yield our will. If I’m only reading Scripture to check a box, or if I approach it to confirm my preconceived preferences, then I’m not truly heeding. Listening implies obedience. The Father’s statement, “Hear Him,” is not a casual suggestion; it is a loving but clear command. If Jesus says to forgive, we forgive. If He says to repent, we repent. If He instructs us to deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow, then we let go of whatever idols or grudges or ambitions keep us from following wholeheartedly.
The disciples fell facedown in awe; that’s the correct response to divine glory. But notice also that Jesus comes, touches them, and says, “Rise, and have no fear.” Christ’s brilliance does not drive us away but bids us come. He’s not merely a radiant, distant figure. He is compassionate, kind, and accessible. He wants us to learn His voice so that we find rest in the midst of chaos.
In an age that elevates every loud opinion, the Father’s command to “Listen to My beloved Son” hasn’t changed. Jesus still speaks through His Word, through the convictions of the Holy Spirit, through biblically faithful preaching and teaching, and through communion with brothers and sisters in the body of Christ. Like the disciples, we need that mountain-top clarity, that powerful assurance that Jesus stands supreme over every other voice. We need it especially when the valley of suffering looms, as it did for them.
Reflection
Let’s pause and consider how the Transfiguration might shape our own walk with Christ:
Are you discouraged or confused? The disciples were grappling with the idea that their Messiah would die. It made no sense to them. Then Jesus let them see His glory. Often, in our deepest confusion, the Lord reveals Himself in new and comforting ways. When life doesn’t match our expectations, we can look to Jesus and remember: the cross leads to resurrection. His plans may look different than ours, but they are infinitely better.
Where do you turn your ears? God’s directive, “Listen to Him,” is simple yet profound. Each day, we decide whose voice gets top priority. Do we take the time to open the Word and truly hear what Jesus says about living, suffering, loving others, or stewarding our gifts? Or do we primarily listen to cultural voices that promise quick fixes or superficial relief? Listening to Christ means we come under His authority; it requires letting Him shape our thinking, attitudes, and actions.
Do you see Jesus as supreme? Peter, as well-intentioned as he was, wanted to house Moses, Elijah, and Jesus together. But only Jesus deserves first place. We can’t equate Him with any other religious leader or moral teacher. The Law and the Prophets find their ultimate fulfillment in Christ. He is the radiance of God’s glory. When life crowds in with its demands or when new “influencers” claim to have the best path forward, remember that the only One worthy of our worship is Jesus.
Are you letting the glimpse of His glory transform you? The disciples briefly beheld the splendor of Jesus. Peter later writes that they did not follow “cleverly devised myths,” but were “eyewitnesses of His majesty.” That vision carried them through persecution and hardship. We, too, can behold Christ’s glory in the Word, by the Spirit, and in the fellowship of believers. As we fix our eyes on Him, we’re changed.
What does obedience look like for you now? Listening is not passive; it’s an invitation to follow. Maybe the Lord is calling you to step away from a certain habit, or to mend a strained relationship, or to serve in a new capacity. Maybe you sense the Holy Spirit urging you to invest more deeply in prayer or generosity. Take a moment to ask, “Lord, where do I need to trust and follow You more intentionally?”
Like Peter, James, and John, we won’t remain forever on the mountain. We all walk through valleys—times when the light feels dimmer, when challenges intensify. But the memory of who Jesus is, and the command to heed His voice, should remain vivid in our hearts. The Transfiguration is a promise: the radiance we glimpsed up there is the destiny we share with Him. Though trials come, we know that one day, Christ will return in full glory. Until then, we follow His Word, by His Spirit, trusting that the One who shone on that mountain is the same Lord who holds us fast today.
So let’s receive the Father’s words as if He’s speaking them fresh right now: “This is My beloved Son; listen to Him.” May that exhortation direct our eyes upward, away from all the noise, to the face of Jesus. May it fill us with a holy longing to know Him and obey Him more. And when fear or doubt creeps in, let’s remember how that scene ended: “They no longer saw anyone with them but Jesus only.” May that be our anthem, too—Jesus only, shining brighter than all else, worthy of our trust, and faithful to lead us forward in His perfect love.
