The Blindness of a Godward Vision

Six days later Jesus took Peter and the two brothers, James and John, and led them up a high mountain to be alone. As the men watched, Jesus’ appearance was transformed so that his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as light.

Matthew 17:1-2 (NLT)

I am struck by the description of the glorified Christ: his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as light. It’s such a similar description to the way YHWH (the Hebrew name of God used in the Old Testament) is described throughout the rest of scripture that it’s impossible to miss the connection. But I think my awe is really about something else; I think I am amazed that this is how Jesus is described because it’s so different from how I always picture Him.

Like most lifelong churchgoers, I grew up in a church where we had several pictures of Jesus hung in various places. I mostly remember the one where Jesus is perfectly posed for the portrait of His face; He gazes heavenward bathed in the soft orange-yellow glow of a nice God’s pleasure. He’s a kind looking, Arian, long-haired hippie type… infinitely approachable and the kind of guy you’d expect to find sitting at a campfire in Yosemite (do they still allow those?) playing happy tunes on his beat up nylon string guitar. To be honest, I kinda liked that Jesus.

But I also remember, around the same time I spent long minutes looking at the picture of the hippie Jesus and wondering how they got a color camera in the 1st century, afternoons laying on the playfield at school experimenting with staring at the sun. Like all boys at that age, I had heard my mom quite clearly when she said I’d go blind for looking at the sun, but I had wanted very badly to have glasses (which is another story for another blog) and I was curious. The interesting thing I learned while staring at the sun is that for sometime after the long look, it is virtually impossible to see anything else. I would walk around and all my friends looked like the same green-faced alien. After staring at the sun, everything else seemed different… and less extravagant.

As I read this passage from the gospel of Matthew, I am forced to reconcile my two childhood experiences. Staring at the picture in my church, I learned of one Jesus; staring at the summer sun, high above the earth, I learned of another Jesus. And as kind as I still believe Jesus is, I believe the image that burned into my retinas and threatened to leave me blind is a much closer resemblance to the One who “did not consider equality with God as something to be grasped.” This belief leaves me fearful and hopeful. Fearful because Jesus is not as safe as I once believed Him to be (remember C.S. Lewis’ immortal description: “He is not a tame lion”); hopeful because He is not powerless. Though He can identify with my weakness, He does not share it. He is almighty God. He is strong. He is able to protect the weak and care for widows and orphans. He is above and beyond my understanding. He is holy and luminous and altogether other. He is God.

And when I look at Him now, I find that everything else in the world seems less extravagant. The shiny brilliance of my materialism fades to a dull gray and the other things I’ve loved become unfulfilling. And when I see Him, when I really seem Him, I am satisfied so deeply by His brilliance that I am content to never see another being again as long as I live.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus.
Look full in His wonderful face,
and the things of earth will grow strangely dim

in the light of His glory and grace