When the Clouds Break on Denali

In June 2019, a group of climbers spent eleven days on Denali, the highest peak in North America, waiting out storms at base camp. Fog and snow swallowed everything beyond arm's reach. They cooked meals in gray silence, wondering if they had wasted their savings on a mountain they would never actually see.

Then, on the twelfth morning, the clouds ripped apart. For roughly forty minutes, the entire Alaska Range stood revealed — glaciers blazing white, ridgelines sharp as cathedral spires, the summit so close they could trace every crevasse. Several climbers wept. One later told a journalist, "I finally understood where I was. The mountain had been there the whole time. I just couldn't see it."

When the clouds rolled back in, nothing about that mountain had changed, but everything about those climbers had. They descended carrying a vision that no photograph could fully capture.

Peter, James, and John climbed a mountain with Jesus and, for a few staggering minutes, the veil pulled back. They saw Him as He truly was — radiant, glorified, speaking with Moses and Elijah, confirmed by the voice of the Almighty: "This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to Him." Then the vision closed, and they walked back down into the valley with ordinary-looking Jesus beside them.

The Transfiguration was never meant to last. It was meant to sustain. The glory they witnessed carried them through every dark valley still to come — because now they knew exactly who was walking beside them.