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The Daily Devotional
Sunday, February 15, 2026
The Light We Carry Down
“So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed. You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.” — 2 Peter 1:19
Introduction
Today stands as a magnificent threshold in the Christian year. We are at the conclusion of Epiphany, a season defined by the revelation of light, and we stand on the brink of Lent, a season of penitence and journeying toward the cross. This day, Transfiguration Sunday, serves as the bridge between the two.
In many traditions, today marks the final time “Alleluia” is spoken or sung in worship until Easter morning. It is a tender, bittersweet moment. We voice our highest praise one last time, packing the word away like a precious heirloom, preparing to enter the quiet wilderness of the next forty days. But before we descend into that silence, we are invited to the mountaintop to see exactly who it is we are following.
Reflection
The story of the Transfiguration is one of overwhelming sensory overload. In Matthew’s Gospel, Peter, James, and John follow Jesus up a high mountain. Suddenly, everything changes. Jesus’ face shines like the sun, and his clothes become dazzling white. Moses and Elijah—representing the Law and the Prophets—appear beside him. A bright cloud overshadows them, and the voice of God thunders, "This is my Son... listen to him!"
It is a moment of pure, terrifying glory. It is no wonder Peter wants to build dwellings and stay there. We all crave the safety and clarity of the mountaintop. We want to remain where God feels close and the world feels far away.
Consider a moment in your own life that felt like a "peak" experience—perhaps reaching the summit of a difficult hike just as the sun broke over the horizon. For twenty minutes, you sat on a rock, looking out over the vastness of the world. The air was crisp, your cell phone had no signal, and your worries about bills, health, or relationships felt miles away. You felt small, yet infinitely connected to something greater.
But eventually, the wind picked up. The sun rose higher. You had to hike back down to the parking lot, drive back into traffic, and return to a home that needed cleaning and a job that needed doing.
The mountaintop is not a place to live; it is a place to be fueled. The disciples were given this glimpse of Jesus’ glory not to escape the world, but to strengthen them for what was coming next. They needed to see the light of the Transfiguration so they could endure the darkness of the crucifixion. They needed to hear God’s voice in the cloud so they could trust Him in the silence of the tomb.
We go up the mountain to see God; we go down the valley to serve Him. The descent is not a failure; it is the mission.
Application
How do we carry the light of the mountaintop into the valley of our daily routines?
Create a "Lamp" for the Dark: As 2 Peter suggests, hold onto the prophetic message like a lamp. Write down one specific moment where you clearly felt God’s presence or faithfulness in the past. When the Lenten season feels heavy or life gets chaotic, read that note to remind yourself that the sun is still shining behind the clouds.
Practice the Ministry of Presence: In the valley, people are hurting. You don't always need to have the answers (Peter’s desire to speak and build was corrected by God). Sometimes, the most "transfigured" thing you can do is simply be with someone in their suffering, listening to them as we are commanded to listen to Jesus.
Embrace the Silence: As we put away the "Alleluia," try to limit the noise in your life this week. Turn off the radio in the car or the TV in the background. Use the silence not as an emptiness, but as a space to listen for the "still small voice" that follows the thunder.
Conclusion
We cannot stay on the mountain, but we are forever changed by having been there. As we step toward Lent, we leave the dazzling light behind, but we do not walk in darkness. We carry the memory of that glory in our hearts. The "Alleluia" may fall silent on our lips, but the hope it signifies remains our strength for the journey ahead.
Prayer
Gracious God, thank You for the moments where the veil is thin and Your glory is undeniable. When we are on the mountaintop, fill us with awe. When we must descend into the valley, fill us with courage. Help us to listen to Your Son, the Beloved, especially when the path becomes steep and the shadows lengthen. May the light we have seen in Him become the light we share with a world in need. Amen.
Devotional by: Kenny Sallee, ThM — Deming, NM, USA
The Bible texts are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) Bible, copyright © 1989, 1993, the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
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