Jesus: More Powerful Than You Think — and Kinder Too

For the past several weeks, we’ve simply been watching Jesus. That has been the point of this series. Not mastering Him. Not systematizing Him. Not arguing about Him. Just watching. We watched a star in the sky and foreign magi kneeling before a child. We watched the heavens open at His baptism and heard the Father say, “This is my beloved Son.” We heard John the Baptizer call Him the Lamb of God. We watched fishermen leave their nets and follow. We listened as He stood on a hillside and called the poor and the grieving blessed. We saw Him calm storms, heal the sick, and raise the dead. Week after week, we paid attention to what He does and how He moves, and one question has been quietly forming beneath it all: Who is this man?

On the Mount of Transfiguration, that question reaches its high point. Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up a mountain. In the Old Testament, mountains are places where God appears, and what happens next fits that pattern. His appearance changes before them. His face shines. His clothes become bright as light. Moses and Elijah appear with Him, representing the Law and the Prophets. A cloud overshadows them, and from the cloud comes a voice: “This is my beloved Son… listen to Him.” Everything we’ve seen in the weeks leading up to this moment gathers into that scene. The miracles. The authority. The power over sickness, storms, and death. On the mountain, the veil lifts. Jesus is not becoming something new; He is being revealed for who He has always been. He is the eternal Son of the true and living God.

It is not difficult for me to believe in that kind of power. I look at the sun and the stars and the complexity of creation, and I do not struggle to imagine a Creator of immense glory. The universe itself is a testimony to power and majesty. The disciples’ reaction makes sense. When they hear the voice and see the glory, they fall on their faces in fear. When human beings encounter holiness, we do not casually shrug it off. The distance between Creator and creature becomes very clear. His glory could crush.

But the story does not end there. What happens next reveals just as much about Jesus as the shining light and the heavenly voice. Jesus walks over to where the disciples are cowering. He does not speak from a distance. He does not remain suspended in radiance and simply command them to stand. He comes close. He touches them. “Rise,” He says. “Have no fear.” That detail matters. The One whose face shines like the sun walks across the ground and puts His hand on trembling men. On the mountain we see His position—who He is in relation to the universe. In the touch we see His posture—who He is in relation to us.

That distinction has stayed with me. I don’t have much trouble believing in God’s power. What I sometimes struggle with is believing in His nearness. Earlier this week I was walking on a beautiful, crisp day. The sky was blue, the air was clear, and everything felt almost overwhelmingly alive. Part of me was filled with joy. Part of me felt small. When I think about the size of the universe, the complexity of life, and how little I truly understand, I can feel like one of those disciples on the ground. Not because I’m seeing transfiguring light, but because existence itself can be overwhelming. In that moment, what I needed was not an explanation. I needed that touch. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Some of us feel bowed down because we feel small and uncertain of our worth. Some of us feel bowed down because we try to understand and control everything, and the weight of it all becomes too much. Either way, the response of Jesus is the same. He comes near. He touches. He says, “You don’t have to be afraid.” The glory is real. The authority is real. But so is the gentleness.

When the cloud lifts and Moses and Elijah disappear, the disciples see “Jesus only.” All the symbolism, all the glory, all the Old Testament echoes fade, and there He stands. The question we’ve been carrying through this series is answered. He is the beloved Son. He is Lord. He is the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets. And He is the One who walks toward frightened people and places His hand on their shoulder.

If you want to know what God is like, look at Jesus in glory. Then look at Jesus in that moment of tenderness. Majesty and mercy are not opposites in Him. They belong together. The One who holds the universe together is the One who says, “Do not be afraid.”

We have seen enough now to trust Him. Not because we understand everything, but because we have seen both His rightful place and His loving heart. The Lord in glory is near in love. And when life feels overwhelming—whether from fear, wonder, sorrow, or the sheer size of it all—remember that the One whose glory fills heaven is also the One who comes close and says, “Rise, and have no fear.”