We have grown used to the metaphor of light and darkness to describe the state of the world and the purpose of the church in it. Such language is rich in Scripture. John’s Gospel begins by saying, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God… In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” In the Sermon on the Mount from Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus says to his disciples, “You are the light of the world.” Later, our Lord will say, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” And at the end of the book of Revelation, when the New Jerusalem is pictured, we are told, “The city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb. By its light will the nations walk, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it, and its gates will never be shut by day—and there will be no night there.” In the end, the night is finished, and the light encompasses all things.

Now, usually, when I contemplate this metaphor of light and dark as a means of understanding the role of faith in a fallen world, I think primarily in terms of sin and righteousness. The light is where we find the truth, the things of God, what is good, right, and salutary. And the darkness contains all the things we want to keep hidden from the light. The darkness is where our sins thrive, where greed, perversion, and hatred dwell unchecked by the light. But these days I’ve begun to see this a little differently. The darkness is more than a place where sin hides; it is a place of longing without hope, a place locked in despair that is constantly searching for something beyond itself but cannot find it. It is helpful to see the darkness as a place where one searches for God but does not find him.

Now that may be a subtle distinction, but I think it is an important one. Today is Transfiguration Sunday, and the text that we’re looking at is from 2 Peter. Now St. Peter is addressing a people struggling with false teachers. There seems to be an abundance of voices seeking to twist and pervert the Word of God, ultimately leading to doubt and despair. But our text begins with this simple line: “We did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.” What plagues the people of God are cleverly devised myths.

Myths thrive in the darkness. These are stories that seek to explain the structures and patterns of the world. The confusion of the darkness, the confusion that is driven by our longing for answers that we cannot find ourselves, leads us to devise clever stories to make sense of things. They may be foundational stories about the weather, successful crops, or human flourishing. Or they can be aspiring myths about the structure of the universe, our place in it, and our purpose as time rolls on. Stories about the beginnings of mankind and what happens after we die. They can be simple or complex, in the form of scientific theories or children’s fables. They are shared by our grandparents or cultivated by political leaders. There’s no end to them, because there is no end to our longing.

But Peter directs us to something else. To an inbreaking of the light into the darkness. He speaks not of an ancient myth but of something he actually saw. He says, “We were eyewitnesses of his majesty. 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 borne from heaven, for we were with him on the holy mountain.”

He was called by our Lord, along with James and John, to follow him up the mountain. No doubt, as he obediently walked behind our Lord, moving closer to the top of the mountain, he began to think about what this could mean, where they were going, and what was waiting for them up there. Moses had gone up a mountain to speak with God, to receive His commands for God’s chosen ones. Elijah also met God on the mountain, not in the dramatic fierce winds that broke the rocks or the earthquake that shook the foundations, nor even in the fire that consumed the landscape, but in a small whisper. And so, up they go, each step full of anticipation. Perhaps they could move above the darkness, perhaps they could find satisfaction for their longing.

And then it happens: as they reach the mountain’s summit, Jesus is transfigured before them. The light is blinding and beautiful, and it pours out of Jesus himself. And who should be there but Moses and Elijah, men who had talked with God on the mountain, are here talking with Jesus. Here, there is an answer to the longing; here, darkness is pushed back, and Peter rightly wants to stay there, to build tents to have this place marked and set aside to guide them through the darkness to give hope and encouragement. But this isn’t the design of God, as a cloud descends upon them, the Father declares, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” And just like that, everything went back to normal. Jesus stood there alone, with the command still ringing in their ears, “Listen to him.”

And so Peter writes to a church battered by false teaching and speaks of what he witnessed, he directs them to a God who breaks into our darkness to give us the light of truth. A truth found in the life and words of Christ himself. In fact, he goes on to say, “And we have the prophetic word more fully confirmed, to which you will do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.” The Word of God is our lamp. The Word of God is our guide, our companion in the darkness, the Word which comes from God is our hope and confidence. This is not our own creation in the darkness but God’s gift of light here and now. And it will carry you along until the new day dawns, until the end of the night.

And so here we are. We stand upon this Word of God, we set our anchor here to weather the storms of false teaching, of sin’s temptations, of despair and confusion. And the light of the Word shines upon you, bringing comfort and guidance and encouragement. The light is salvation itself. For here your Lord declares that you are forgiven, that he has done what you could not do, that life eternal is yours by his love and mercy alone. And as God said to Peter, “Listen to him.”