The Mountain of Fulfillment

We’re all chasing something. Maybe it’s security. Maybe it’s success. Maybe it’s that elusive feeling of being enough.

When we travel, we do this too. We chase the best experience that we can possibly have. To see the sights and experience the experiences.

Anyone who travels to Philadelphia has to accomplish 2 things.

eat a cheesesteak. Usually at Pats or Genos — and then find someone local who can tell them where to get a cheesesteak that is actually good.

2. find yourself standing at the base of those iconic stone steps leading up to the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

At the base, you stretch your calves, you shake out your arms, and you take off running—thirty-two steps to the top. It doesn’t matter your age, your fitness level, or whether you’ve ever seen a boxing match in your life—you’re gonna give it a go.

And if you're like most people, when you reach the top, you throw your arms up in the air like Rocky Balboa and hum a few bars of Gonna Fly Now. You’ve earned the view.

But that view isn’t just city skyline.

From the top of those steps, you can stand and look back down the Benjamin Franklin Parkway—a grand, tree-lined avenue—and imagine a world 249 years ago, where the people of Philadelphia had finally had enough of British tyranny. These very streets bore the footsteps of patriots and poets, politicians and printers. Right down the hill from those steps, they gathered to declare independence, to imagine a world where people could be free from oppressive rule.

But they didn’t stop there.

After the Declaration, there was still a war to fight. And even after the war, there was a constitution to write, a whole system to build.

Freedom wasn’t just declared. It had to be lived.

And that’s the tension of the mountaintop moment. You see something glorious. You catch a vision. But the work—the transformation—happens when you come back down.

Today we continue our series “Summer in the Mountains.” We have been looking at different mountain top experiences that people in Scripture had, and seeing how those experiences are much like the experiences that we have throughout our own lives.

We’ve spent the past 5 weeks looking at stories and characters from the Old Testament — heroes of the faith from the time of Ancient Israel. Today we are going to shift forward to the time of Jesus’s ministry. We will be taking a run up another mountain—the Mount of Transfiguration. It doesn’t show up in travel guides, but it’s one of the most important peaks in all of Scripture.

According to most scholars and church tradition, this mountain is none other than Mount Hermon—a snowcapped summit on the northern edge of Israel, near Caesarea Philippi. Hermon stood over 9,000 feet high. It was a place wrapped in mystery, myth, and spiritual history.

And it’s on this mountain that Jesus gives Peter, James, and John a glimpse—just a glimpse—of who he really is.

Matthew 17:1–8 NRSV

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.

He was transfigured before them…

That’s how Matthew tells it. Not transformed, but transfigured—metamorphoō in Greek. It’s the same root word as metamorphosis—something familiar becoming something gloriously more.

Jesus’ face shines like the sun. His clothes become dazzling white. And suddenly, two figures appear next to him—Moses and Elijah.

Now, this isn’t just a random spiritual reunion. It is theological poetry.

Moses represents the Law—the covenant of Sinai, the formation of God’s people, the holy instructions for living.

Elijah represents the Prophets—the bold voices who called Israel back to faithfulness, who pointed to God's promises and God’s future.

Together, they stand for the entire Hebrew Bible—the Law and the Prophets. And here they are, speaking with Jesus, who stands not beside them as an equal, but as the one they’ve been pointing toward all along.

This is fulfillment.

As Jesus said earlier in Matthew’s Gospel:

Matthew 5:17 NRSV

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.

Jesus is not a break from the story of Scripture—he’s the climax of it. He is not a reset—he’s the revelation.

And the setting? It matters. Mount Hermon wasn’t just any mountain.

In ancient Canaanite religion, it was associated with the divine realm—a place where, according to some traditions like 1 Enoch, rebellious spiritual beings descended and corrupted what was meant to be holy.

So when Jesus climbs Mount Hermon and stands glowing in divine glory, he is doing something more than dramatic. He’s doing something decisive.

He is reclaiming what had been distorted. He is redeeming what had been defiled. He is standing in a place long associated with rebellion, and he is revealing the true, obedient Son.

That’s what Jesus does. He brings glory into the very places that seemed hopeless. He transfigures what was broken.

“This is my Son… Listen to Him.”

Now, Peter—God bless him—is trying to make the moment last. He wants to build tents. He wants to stay on the mountain. He doesn’t want the moment to end.

But just as he starts planning the glory campout, a bright cloud overshadows them—and God speaks.

“This is my Son, the Beloved. With him I am well pleased. Listen to him.”

The same voice from Jesus’ baptism returns, but this time it’s not directed at Jesus—it’s for the disciples. Listen to him. Not just admire him. Not just memorialize him. Listen. Obey. Follow.

And when the cloud lifts, Moses and Elijah are gone. It’s just Jesus—because he alone is the one we are meant to follow.

And what happens next?

Jesus doesn’t let them linger. He touches them, tells them not to be afraid, and leads them down the mountain.

And what’s waiting for them at the bottom? A father with a suffering son. A crowd in need. A world waiting to be healed.

The mountaintop gave them a glimpse of glory— but the mission, the transformation, the true fulfillment? That would be found back in the valley, walking with Jesus.

What This Means for Us

Friends, we live in a world hungry for fulfillment.

We chase it in careers.

We search for it in relationships.

We scroll for it in endless feeds of content.

But deep down, we want what Peter glimpsed—we want to see something that makes sense of it all. Something that grounds us. A vision that’s bigger than us, but still includes us.

And that’s what the Mount of Transfiguration gives us. Jesus doesn’t just fulfill the Law and the Prophets—he fulfills us.

Because we were made for him. We were made to walk with him, listen to him, trust him.

And just like Peter, we find fulfillment not by staying in the glory, but by following Jesus back into the world with new eyes.

So what does that mean here in Fort Pierce? It means you’re not going to find fulfillment in more stuff or better optics.

You’ll find it when you:

Listen to the voice of Jesus above all others.

See your neighbors through the lens of his compassion.

Serve where the world is hurting.

Join in the slow, faithful work of the Kingdom.

You’ll find fulfillment when you realize that your ordinary life—your family, your job, your neighborhood—is the place where Jesus is still being revealed.

Like Peter, you won’t get to build a tent on the mountain. But you just might help build a church that reveals God’s glory to the world.

So let’s go back to those Art Museum steps.

When you stand at the top, you don’t just see a city—you see a vision. You remember a people who stood up, declared independence, and said, “There’s a better way.”

But they didn’t stop with a declaration. They kept going. They built something.

It took work. And sacrifice. And commitment.

Freedom had to be lived.

So it is with us. We’ve seen the mountaintop. We’ve heard the voice of God. We’ve glimpsed the glory of Jesus.

But now it’s time to walk back into the world—not the same as before, but transfigured, carrying the light of Christ into every corner of our lives.

So listen to him. Follow him. Let him fulfill the story—and fulfill you.

Amen.