It happened almost 20 years ago. During a period of my life that felt like an endless loop, I found myself traveling far more than I had ever imagined (or desired). Amidst it all, one night stands out vividly. I remember waking up in a room that was pitch-black. I struggled to see something. Anything. But I couldn’t. It was like I was plunged in a darkness my eyes couldn’t adjust to. And worse, in my groggy state of mind, I had no idea where I was. It took a long minute for me to remember that I was in Minnesota, staying with friends.
It was a moment I’ll never forget.
In some ways, I wonder if the disciples had that same type of experience at the Transfiguration – in reverse.
Scripture tells us that Jesus took Peter, James and John to a high mountain to pray. We don’t know how long they were there, but Luke notes that “Peter and his companions were overcome by sleep.” Maybe they were weary from all their journeys, too. What was it that awakened them? Was it hearing the voice of Jesus mingled with voices they didn’t recognize? Or was it the brilliant light that jostled them out of their slumber?
As their eyes tried to adjust, did they remember where they were—or who they were with? How much of the conversation between Jesus, Moses and Elijah did they hear? They must have heard a least a minute or two to know who was speaking. After all, unless the two strangers were wearing nametags, how could the disciples have known they were Moses and Elijah?
For at least a few moments, the disciples were enveloped in a heavenly “cloud.” And, as amazing as that sounds, we learn that Peter was “frightened.” Of course, when the Israelites heard God speak to Moses (in the form of thunder), they, too, were scared. There must be something alarming about being caught up in a divine encounter.
But maybe, through their initial fear and awe, God let them experience a mini-version of their own transfiguration.
For us mere humans, transformations are difficult. They require a willingness to be plunged into darkness (or, in this case, a blinding light). They require our trusting in God and clinging to His promises. And they require us to see ourselves, our circumstances, and others in a different perspective.
Two decades after my visit to Minnesota and now working for Rachel’s Vineyard, I’ve witnessed some amazing transformations. I’ve heard our team leaders mention the changes they see in the people who attend their retreats. I’ve talked with women who call us in whispered tones or through tears they’re holding back. But after assuring them that we understand what they’re going through, they regain a sense of peace. And connecting them to the closest Rachel’s Vineyard retreat gives them a spark of hope.
As staff members, we’re also encouraged to attend a retreat weekend, regardless of whether we’ve experienced an abortion or not (after all, most of us have family members or friends who have). Becoming familiar with the retreats, and deeply understanding the journeys that bring people to them, are crucial to the work we do.
So I made my decision and went through the process like everyone else: Talking to the team leader and filling out the paperwork. And, like most people, I didn’t tell anyone I was going. Not even my co-workers.
That Friday, I walked into the retreat having more knowledge about it than the other participants, but I still didn’t know what to expect. I knew the weekend wouldn’t be easy. It wasn’t. I knew God would work with each of us tenderly, uniquely. He did. And I knew I needed to be vulnerable—to be open to sharing the pains I had experienced in my life. I was.
On Saturday afternoon, in the midst of one of our meditations, I felt a love that didn’t just surround me, it flowed through me to every person there. It was almost as if God’s light was enveloping the room. Through His grace, I was able to listen not only with my ears, but my mind and heart, to the stories of my fellow retreatants. I looked around and saw people who were no longer strangers but fellow survivors of their own tragedies and sorrows in life. I saw the tenderness of the team members as they listened to each of us with compassion, offered us words of encouragement, and helped us during our moments of sadness and pain. I saw the gentleness of the priest who was willing to hear our confessions for hours on end, bestowing on us words of hope and assurance.
At our meals we laughed with one another, expressed our dreams for the future, and rallied around anyone who looked like they might need a little pick-me-up. And at one of the final sessions, a team member gave me words of comfort that I’ll never forget. In something I had said—that I shared only with a few close friends through the years—she perceived something that no one else had. Her recognizing the essence of what I had been enduring still brings me to tears. In that moment, I experienced my own transfiguration—knowing I had been truly heard and understood.
Throughout the weekend, I witnessed the transformations of the other retreatants, as well. I saw women who entered the retreat Friday night with hardened faces, with antagonism, or with fear and push-back, soften by Sunday. I saw the light in their eyes at the end of the retreat. And I saw the weight of their sorrows lifted.
In just one weekend, I journeyed to a mountaintop with others and experienced the glory of God. I beheld the transfigurations we all experienced—moving from darkness into light.
During this Feast of the Transfiguration, let’s enter into the “cloud” of God and remember that He desires to transform us into His glory, into wholeness, and into the quietness where we can hear His voice tell us that we, too, are “chosen.”
Is God calling you to a transformation? Attend a Rachel’s Vineyard Retreat and see what He does for you.
Mary Peterson is a staff member at the international office of Rachel’s Vineyard.
Your support brings the truth to the world.
Catholic Online News exists because of donors like you. We are 100% funded by people who believe the world deserves real, uncensored news rooted in faith and truth — not corporate agendas. Your gift ensures millions can continue to access the news they can trust — stories that defend life, faith, family, and freedom.
When truth is silenced, your support speaks louder.
