Second Sunday of Lent

God tells Abraham: leave your land, your family, your father's house. Go to a place I will show you. No map. Just a promise: I will bless you. Abraham was seventy-five. And he went.

Jesus takes three disciples up a mountain, and for one blinding moment they see him as he really is - face shining, clothes white as light, talking with Moses and Elijah. Peter wants to build shelters and stay. The Father's voice cuts through: "This is my beloved Son. Listen to him." Then it's over. They come down the mountain.

In your twenties, you're making Abraham-level decisions without Abraham-level certainty. Where to live. What to commit to. Who to become. Which doors to walk through and which to close. You want the clarity of the mountaintop before you take the next step.

Jesus didn't give Peter that luxury either. The Transfiguration was real, but temporary. It was meant to sustain them through what was coming - arrest, crucifixion, despair. The glory was the down payment. The cross was the road.

Paul tells Timothy something that matters here: God saved us and called us to a holy life, not according to our works but according to his own design and grace. Your calling isn't something you build from scratch. It's something God designed before you showed up. Your job is to go forth. His job is to show you the land.