Yesterday in my reading through the Gospels (more on that next week), I read about Christ's transfiguration in Luke 9. I read it through twice because I can so easily miss the important details. Sure enough, the second time through I was arrested by something Luke tells us that Matthew and Mark do not include in their narratives of the same event. Jesus took Peter, James, and John up on the mountain to pray. Then follows two very different outcomes or responses to prayer. As Jesus prayed, "His face was altered." But the disciples? Well . . . they fell asleep. The Bible puts it this way: "Peter and those with him were heavy with sleep."
It got me thinking about my own prayer life. How often has prayer put me to sleep?!? I am more like the disciples than Jesus. Prayer can feel wearisome; my mind drifts and gets foggy; tiredness overtakes me. But for Jesus, prayer was energizing, a lifeline of spiritual renewal and refreshment. Through prayer Jesus turned His face toward the light of His Father and basked in the sunshine of His face. Through prayer He entered the realm of the Eternal Day, the glory of Unapproachable Light. During this particular prayer time of Jesus, we are given a glimpse of the reality of who He is. By means of prayer, He spiritually stepped across the veil of the invisible into that life which is truly Life, the reality that transcends the earthly, temporal, visible shadows and reveals the Truth.
I was reminded of Moses, who walked up the mountain to be with God. He, too, like this mountaintop experience with Jesus and His disciples, was enveloped in a fearful cloud. But he stayed and communed with God. And like Jesus, his face began to glow. I don't know about you, but I want my prayer time to become more like that of Jesus and Moses. I want prayer to be so energizing, so life-giving, that my face glows. I want prayer to remind me of who I really am, of my relationship with the Father, and to lift me above the daily struggles and skirmishes of life. Prayer enables us to transcend all of those things, settling our souls in the vastness of God—who not only is big enough to deal with whatever life throws at us, but also has promised His help and strength and wisdom and . . .
Maybe, just maybe, if our prayer response becomes more like Jesus', all the things that weigh us down won't seem so heavy or significant; the reactions that pop to the surface will be quieted by His voice and His Presence. Our focus will shift; our ears will become more attuned—to Him.
So shake off the weariness. Come boldly. Enter the Throne Room. Revel in the Light.