Second Sunday of Lent
Now the Lord said to Abram, "Leave your country, and your relatives, and your father's house, and go to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation. I will bless you and make your name great. You will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and I will curse him who treats you with contempt. All the families of the earth will be blessed through you."
So Abram went, as the Lord had told him. Lot went with him. Abram was seventy-five years old when he departed from Haran.
For the Lord's word is right. All his work is done in faithfulness. He loves righteousness and justice. The earth is full of the loving kindness of the Lord.
Behold, the Lord's eye is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his loving kindness, to deliver their soul from death, to keep them alive in famine.
Our soul has waited for the Lord. He is our help and our shield.
Therefore don't be ashamed of the testimony of our Lord, nor of me his prisoner; but endure hardship for the Good News according to the power of God, who saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace, which was given to us in Christ Jesus before times eternal, but has now been revealed by the appearing of our Savior, Christ Jesus, who abolished death, and brought life and immortality to light through the Good News.
After six days, Jesus took with him Peter, James, and John his brother, and brought them up into a high mountain by themselves. He was changed before them. His face shone like the sun, and his garments became as white as the light. Behold, Moses and Elijah appeared to them talking with him.
Peter answered and said to Jesus, "Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you want, let's make three tents here: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah."
While he was still speaking, behold, a bright cloud overshadowed them. Behold, a voice came out of the cloud, saying, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased. Listen to him."
When the disciples heard it, they fell on their faces, and were very afraid. Jesus came and touched them and said, "Get up, and don't be afraid." Lifting up their eyes, they saw no one, except Jesus alone.
As they were coming down from the mountain, Jesus commanded them, saying, "Don't tell anyone what you saw, until the Son of Man has risen from the dead."
The mountain changes everything. Peter, James, and John climb up with their teacher and descend with their Savior transfigured before their eyes. But notice what happens in between—they want to stay. Peter's impulse to build tents reveals something deeply human: when we encounter the divine, we want to capture it, contain it, make it permanent.
This connects beautifully with Abraham's journey. The Lord calls Abram to leave everything familiar—country, relatives, father's house—for a destination unknown. At seventy-five, when most would settle into routine, Abraham steps into radical trust. The promise isn't just personal blessing but universal: "All the families of the earth will be blessed through you."
Both stories reveal the same pattern: God calls us beyond our comfort zones into transformation. Abraham leaves geographical security; the disciples leave their assumptions about who Jesus is. Paul reminds Timothy—and us—that this calling comes "not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace."
The transfiguration shows us something crucial about our Lenten journey. We're not just trying to improve ourselves through discipline and sacrifice. We're being invited into the very life of God, where death is abolished and immortality breaks through. Jesus touches the terrified disciples and says, "Get up, don't be afraid"—the same gentle strength that calls us forward when transformation feels overwhelming.
Consider how this plays out on ordinary Wednesday afternoons. Maybe it's the moment when forgiveness feels impossible, or when we're asked to trust beyond what makes sense, or when we glimpse something sacred in the midst of routine. God meets us there, not demanding perfection but offering grace.
What familiar "tents" might God be asking you to leave behind this Lent? Where do you sense Jesus saying "don't be afraid" as he invites you deeper into his life?