Listening on the Mountain: Why Growth Requires Holy Resistance

Transfiguration Sunday confronts us with a moment of blazing clarity. Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up a high mountain. There, before their eyes, “he was transfigured in front of them, and his face shone like the sun; his clothes became as white as the light.” Moses and Elijah appear, speaking with Him. And then a bright cloud overshadows them, and a voice declares, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well-pleased. Listen to him!” (Matthew 17:1–9 CSB)

It is a breathtaking scene. Glory unveiled. Heaven interrupting earth. The disciples are overwhelmed, terrified, and stunned into silence.

But what if the real transformation in that moment did not happen because of the brightness of the light? What if it happened because of the resistance that followed?

Peter’s first instinct is to manage the moment. “Lord, it’s good for us to be here. If you want, I will set up three shelters…” He wants to preserve the experience. Capture it. Stay in it. But before he can finish speaking, God interrupts him: “Listen to him.”

That interruption is not humiliation. It is formation.

And that is where this story reaches into our lives.

Scriptures for Today: Matthew 17:1-9, Exodus 24:12-18, 2 Peter 1:16-21, Psalm 2:1-12

The Brain Loves Autopilot—But Discipleship Requires Resistance

In Thinking, Fast and Slow, psychologist Daniel Kahneman describes two basic systems of thinking. One is fast, automatic, and instinctive. The other is slower, more deliberate, and requires effort. The fast system operates quickly and comfortably. The slower system requires attention and energy.

Here’s what that means for us: our brains are wired to conserve effort. We prefer what is familiar. We gravitate toward ideas that confirm what we already assume. If something sounds right and feels comfortable, we tend to accept it without much reflection.

That wiring helps us function day to day. But spiritually, it can keep us stuck.

Peter understood this. Years after the Transfiguration, he wrote to the church: “For we did not follow cleverly contrived myths… instead, we were eyewitnesses of his majesty.” (2 Peter 1:16 CSB)

He was pushing back against autopilot faith. Myths are appealing because they don’t demand much from us. They confirm our instincts. They settle easily into our mental shortcuts.

Faith, however, cannot run on autopilot.

On the mountain, Peter’s instinct was to act quickly, to build shelters, to control the moment. But God’s voice slowed him down. It interrupted him. It forced him into a posture of listening.

Growth happens in that interruption.

If following Jesus never challenges you, never stretches you, never slows you down, then it is probably not forming you. Real discipleship does not happen in the easy, automatic parts of us. It happens in the resistance.

Peter did not grow because he stayed comfortable on the mountain. He grew because he was forced to listen.

The Lamp in the Darkness: God’s Word Shapes Us

After reminding the church of the Transfiguration, Peter turns their attention to Scripture: “We also have the prophetic word strongly confirmed, and you will do well to pay attention to it, as to a lamp shining in a dark place.” (2 Peter 1:19 CSB)

For Peter, “the prophetic word” meant the Old Testament—the Law, the Prophets, the Psalms. These were the Scriptures that shaped Israel’s understanding of God long before the New Testament existed.

Peter insists these writings were not human inventions. “No prophecy of Scripture comes from the prophet’s own interpretation… men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit.” (2 Peter 1:20–21 CSB)

Scripture is a lamp. And lamps reveal.

They illuminate what we cannot see on our own. They expose what we might prefer to ignore. They shine into the dark corners of our pride, our fear, our assumptions.

When Scripture is doing its job, it creates holy resistance. It pushes against our shortcuts. It challenges our self-righteousness. It confronts our comfort.

And it always points us back to Jesus.

The Old Testament pointed forward to the Messiah. The New Testament proclaims Him. Scripture does not exist so we can win arguments or confirm our biases. It exists so we can be shaped into Christlikeness.

Any reading of Scripture that does not lead us toward humility, obedience, and deeper love for Christ has missed its purpose.

The Word always leads us to the Word made flesh.

Reading the Bible Literally: With Reverence and Reality

Many Christians say, “I read the Bible literally.” Often what they mean is that they take it seriously. They believe it. They don’t dismiss it.

That’s good.

But reading literally does not mean flattening the text. It does not mean ignoring genre or context. To read something literally is to read it according to what it is.

If it is poetry, we read it as poetry.
If it is narrative, we read it as narrative.
If it is apocalyptic imagery, we do not treat it like a newspaper report.

Literal reading means asking: Who was the original audience? What did these words mean in their culture? What kind of writing is this?

That approach does not weaken Scripture. It deepens it. It honors the fact that these words were spoken into real history, to real people, carried along by the Holy Spirit.

When we read Scripture in context, something beautiful happens. It expands. It becomes richer. It becomes more powerful. And it keeps leading us back to Christ.

Instead of asking, “How can I use this passage?” we begin asking, “How is this passage shaping me toward Jesus?”

That shift changes everything.

Because Scripture is not something we control. It is something we submit to.

And submission always involves resistance.

The Wall: Where Transformation Begins

In Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, Peter Scazzero describes a stage of spiritual growth he calls “the Wall.” The Wall is that place where our usual spiritual strategies stop working. Our formulas fail. Our defenses are exposed.

The Wall feels like resistance. It can feel like silence or confusion. But it is not punishment. It is invitation.

Peter experienced his own Wall. The Transfiguration did not remove suffering from his future. It prepared him for it. The glory on the mountain did not shield him from hardship. It clarified who Jesus is so that he could follow Him into the valley.

Discipleship happens where resistance is allowed.

If we avoid every uncomfortable conversation, every challenging Scripture, every moment that stretches us, we will remain spiritually shallow.

But when we allow God’s Word to slow us down, to press against us, to reshape our instincts, transformation begins.

Questions for Reflection

1. Where in your spiritual life have you settled into autopilot? What beliefs or habits feel familiar and comfortable—but may no longer be stretching you toward Christ?
2. When was the last time God’s Word interrupted you? Can you identify a moment when Scripture challenged your thinking or exposed something in your heart? Are you trying to stay on the mountain?
3. In what area of your life might Jesus be leading you back into the valley—into obedience, service, or uncomfortable growth?

Let those questions sit. Don’t answer them quickly. Growth rarely happens quickly.

Discipleship Happens Where Resistance Is Allowed

Peter did not grow because he preserved the mountain moment. He grew because he listened. The Transfiguration did not eliminate tension from his life. It prepared him to face it.

God is not removing every difficulty from your path. He is forming you through it.

He interrupts you not to embarrass you, but to shape you. He gives you His Word not as a weapon, but as a lamp. He slows you down not to frustrate you, but to deepen you.

“Listen to him.”

That command still stands.

When we allow His Word to press against us—when we resist the temptation to stay on autopilot—real transformation begins.

God has spoken. We can trust His Word.

Type your new text here.