The Night Sewn Into His Coat

On the evening of November 23, 1654, Blaise Pascal — mathematician, physicist, one of the sharpest minds in France — encountered something his equations could never contain. For roughly two hours, beginning around half past ten, Pascal experienced what he could only describe as "fire." The presence of the living God overwhelmed him so completely that he grabbed a scrap of parchment and scrawled words in a feverish hand: "God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob — not of philosophers and scholars. Certitude. Joy. Peace."

When the experience faded, Pascal did something remarkable. He sewed that parchment into the lining of his coat and carried it against his chest for the remaining eight years of his life. A servant discovered it only after his death.

Pascal could not stay in that moment of blazing revelation. He had to descend from his own mountain, back to the ordinary world of Parisian society, illness, and daily struggle. But he refused to forget what he had seen.

On the Mount of Transfiguration, Peter wanted to build shelters and stay forever in the glory. But the voice of the Father cut through the dazzling cloud with a single command: "This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to Him." The mountain was never meant to be a destination. It was meant to be a commission — carry the glory back down into the valley, sewn close to the heart, shaping everything that follows.