A Chapel That Wasn’t Empty

Over the summer, I took a trip to Blue Mountain Retreat Center, which hosts a little prayer chapel where I love to spend extended time with the Lord. I’ve had some significant encounters there, and this time was no different.

On the last evening of the trip, I approached the chapel with a growing sense of anticipation. Though it was completely quiet outside and totally empty within, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the chapel was hosting a full-blown heavenly “conference.” It was as if angels were in attendance, celebrating and worshipping like a vast cosmic choir.

As I sat down and joined in the worship from my own heart, it felt like the guest speaker was about to step to the podium—and it was none other than the Father Himself. As I focused on His presence, I sensed the opening words of the message:

“Open your Bibles… to John 1:14.”

“And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth.” (John 1:14)

We Saw His Glory…

I’ve read this passage countless times, but this evening it struck me differently. My eyes were drawn to the phrase: we saw His glory.

I had always assumed John was simply describing the fact that he walked with Jesus. But it felt as though the Spirit gave me a glimpse into John’s own memory—his mind reaching back to a very specific encounter years earlier. This was the day Jesus led John, his brother James, and the apostle Peter up a high and holy mountain, where they beheld the fullness of His glory—the moment we now call the Transfiguration.

Peter also described this same event in language that echoes John’s testimony:

“For we did not follow cleverly devised tales when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of His majesty…” (2 Peter 1:16–18)

As I considered their two accounts side by side, I realized this was more than just a highlight reel of their discipleship. Outside of the crucifixion and resurrection, the Transfiguration may have been the most defining moment of their lives.

…the Glory Already There

Now, what’s fascinating is that the Transfiguration didn’t reveal something new that wasn’t there before. It was an unveiling of what had always been true. This fits perfectly with the Kingdom of God—a reality both now and not yet. The Kingdom is here within reach, yet it has not been fully revealed.

And this is where it touches our own lives. The same Greek word used for Jesus’s “Transfiguration” also appears in two other key passages. (In fact, outside of the Transfiguration story, these are the only other times in Scripture that specific term shows up.)

• Romans 12:2 – “Be transformed (transfigured) by the renewing of your mind.”
• 2 Corinthians 3:18 – “But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed (transfigured) into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit.”

Paul’s imagery is striking. He says that when we look at the Lord’s glory, it’s like gazing into a mirror. A mirror reflects your true face. Likewise, Christ reveals your true nature. Therefore, as you behold Him, a true and yet hidden glory is unveiled from within you.

This brings me back to John 1:14. There is a key to this concept of transfiguration that is vital to see. It’s what the Father was preaching to my heart that evening in that quiet and yet fully alive prayer chapel in the middle of Pennsylvania. Look at it again:

…and we saw His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth.

The glory we see in Jesus—the glory we are to behold as our true mirror—is the glory of a Beloved Son! This makes perfect sense when we consider the actual words released from heaven in the moment that Jesus’s inward glory was put on full display:

“This is My beloved Son with whom I am well-pleased!”

The transfiguration was an unveiling of Jesus’s own true identity. The shining glory on the mountain wasn’t just raw power or blinding light. It was the revelation of Jesus’s truest identity: the Father’s beloved child.

This is glory we see in Jesus—the glory we’re invited to behold as our mirror.

Hearing the Voice for Ourselves

And this is of course is where it gets personal. Romans 12 suggests that “renewing your mind” involves embracing this reality for yourself. Our call is to behold Christ and hear the same voice that thundered over Him:

“You are My beloved child, in whom I take great delight.”

That word is not just for Jesus—it is for us. And as we let it sink into our hearts, it doesn’t merely inspire us; it unveils us. It brings forth what was already true beneath the surface of our struggles, doubts, and daily routines.

The long hike up the mountain with Jesus, Peter, James, and John becomes a picture of the human journey. We are all climbing toward the Voice that declares who we already are. It’s a path of forgiveness, revelation, patience, and surrender. It’s the way of learning to trust the Father’s word over every other voice.

Carrying the Father’s Voice

As I finish this up, I’m drawn back to the chapel that seemed so empty that night. In reality, it was filled with the glory of God. Now this may not be the kind of glory that shakes the walls or dazzles the eyes, but I believe it’s the same glory John and Peter described—the glory of the Beloved Son. That night, the “conference” I envisioned wasn’t some fantasy; it was a glimpse into the deeper reality that heaven’s song is always playing, and we are always invited to join in.

The chapel became a mirror, showing me that this glory isn’t confined to mountains or mystical moments. It’s the glory of Christ alive in us. It’s the Spirit whispering, “You too are My beloved child, in whom I am well pleased.” And just like Peter and John carried the memory of that holy mountain for the rest of their lives, we are called to carry the Father’s voice down from our own mountaintop encounters—into the valleys, into the struggles, into the ordinariness of life.

Because the truth is, the places that seem quiet or even “empty” are often the very places where the fullness of His presence is waiting to be unveiled.