On our Christian calendar, this Sunday is Transfiguration Sunday.

Now, if your pulse didn't quicken at that announcement, don't worry.  I can't imagine that Transfiguration Sunday looms large on your personal calendar of holy days.  Shoot, I'm the preacher, and I have to admit that I find myself looking past this Sunday to Lent and Easter beyond.  It definitely has all the markings of an in-between Sunday.

After the high point of joy that is Christmas, we make our way through January and settle again onto the Plain of Normality-back to school, back to work, back to the steady rhythms that drive our days and our worship.  This Sunday, Transfiguration Sunday, is the last Sunday before Lent.  From here you can see the steady climb that leads us toward the next great peak of our year, Easter.

Now, the irony of my words isn't lost on me.  I describe Transfiguration Sunday as a low moment in the year, but the Transfiguration took place, of course, on a mountaintop.  In a season called Epiphany, it is the epiphany of epiphanies, an astounding, mind-boggling revelation of Christ's glory, a moment when time stops and space is alight with a divine splendor.

At the Transfiguration, God affirmed Christ's identity and mission.  The three disciples who climbed that mountain with him were allowed a sneak peek (and peak) of coming attractions, a glimpse of Christ's glory that would be revealed in the Resurrection.  And for all the blinding light and "dazzling darkness" (Barbara Brown Taylor's phrase) of the moment, another truth was also acknowledged-that the mission and glory of Christ could only be fulfilled through his "departure," that is, his death.

For an in-between Sunday, it sure carries a lot of stuff, doesn't it?

So, I invite you this Sunday to take the high road that runs through the valley of the year between Christmas and Easter.  What is the meaning of this mountaintop revelation at this moment in Jesus' ministry?  And what revelation awaits us even now?

I'm starting to feel pretty excited about this in-between Sunday.  It might be a catch-our-breath day on the calendar, but the story it tells is enough to take that newly-caught breath away.