The summit broke open before them, a jagged crown under a sky too vast. Peter’s legs ached, but he stood tall, catching his breath. Then it began—light, blinding and alive, erupted from Jesus. His face shone like the sun at noon, his robes blazing whiter than any fisherman’s net hauled from the sea. Peter squinted, heart hammering, as the veil of the world tore apart. Two figures shimmered into view—Moses, Elijah—standing with him, their voices a low hum of eternity.
Heaven itself had opened. Peter’s knees buckled, but he held his ground, awe warring with a fool’s urge to act. “Lord,” he blurted, voice cracking, “it’s good we’re here! Let me build shelters—three of them—for you, Moses, Elijah!” The words tumbled out, clumsy, eager, as if he could tether this glory to the earth.
A shadow fell—a cloud, thick and radiant, swallowing them whole. Before Peter could retract his blunder, a voice rolled from it, deep as thunder over Gennesaret. “This is my Son, my Beloved. Listen to him!” The rebuke hit harder than Jesus’ own words ever had, silencing Peter’s tongue, rooting him to the stone.
The light faded as fast as it came. Moses and Elijah vanished, the cloud lifted, and Jesus stood alone—ordinary again, yet not. His eyes met Peter’s, steady, piercing. “Tell no one what you’ve seen,” he said, voice firm. “Not until the Son of Man rises from the dead.”
Peter’s mouth opened, then shut. Rises from the dead? The words tangled in his mind, heavy as wet nets, but he nodded, swallowing the fire in his throat. James and John stood mute, faces pale, their own wonder locked behind sealed lips.
The descent was quiet, the mountain still trembling in Peter’s bones. He replayed it all—the blinding light, the thunderous decree, his own rash outburst. He’d spoken when he shouldn’t, a fool on a peak of glory, yet the truth burned brighter now: Jesus was no mere teacher, no prophet reborn. The Father’s voice had named him Son, and Peter had seen it—glory raw and unfiltered, searing his soul.
But silence? That was the hardest command yet. Peter’s fisherman’s heart longed to shout it from the shore—how heaven had touched earth, how the Master stood radiant between law and prophecy. Instead, he held his breath, the weight of it pressing his chest. Tell no one. Not yet. Not until—what? Death? Rising? The cross loomed in Jesus’ words, a shadow Peter couldn’t grasp, but he felt its chill.
Back in the valley, the world churned on—crowds, questions, the dust of the road. Peter walked beside Jesus, quieter now, the fire of that mountain locked inside. James and John kept pace, their eyes darting to him, then away. They’d seen it too, but the lesson was clear: this truth wasn’t theirs to spill—not until the dawn broke, not until the tomb gave way.
Peter clenched his fists, gazing at the horizon. Storms would come, pain would follow—he sensed it in Jesus’ stride, in the weight of that command. Yet beneath the silence, a promise flickered: the light he’d seen would outlast it all. For now, he waited, a rock holding fast, the echo of glory his burden and his hope.
Song 6- Tell No One
(Verse 1)
It was many days later, but still in my mind,
The echoes of glory, the light left me blind.
I saw heaven open, the veil torn apart,
But I'm bound by His silence, the weight on my heart.
(Pre-Chorus)
The rock or the fool, the faith or the fall,
A whisper of heaven, a thunderous call.
One moment He lifts me, the next I’m undone,
I’m holding my breath in the wake of the Son.
(Chorus)
Tell no one, tell no one,
Not 'til the dawn of the risen One.
The mountain still trembles, the fire still burns,
But the lesson is silence, the truth yet to turn.
(Verse 2)
I spoke when I shouldn’t, my tongue led me wrong,
Rebuked by the Master, the words felt so strong.
And yet on the mountain, the heavens proclaimed,
A voice like the thunder, calling His name.
(Pre-Chorus)
The rock or the fool, the faith or the fall,
A whisper of heaven, a thunderous call.
One moment He lifts me, the next I’m undone,
I’m holding my breath in the wake of the Son.
(Chorus)
Tell no one, tell no one,
Not 'til the dawn of the risen One.
The mountain still trembles, the fire still burns,
But the lesson is silence, the truth yet to turn.
(Bridge)
I saw the light, I heard the decree,
“This is My Son, listen to He!”
But how do I wait when my soul longs to cry,
The wonder I witnessed, the fire in the sky?
(Chorus)
Tell no one, tell no one,
Not 'til the dawn of the risen One.
The mountain still trembles, the fire still burns,
But the lesson is silence, the truth yet to turn.
(Outro)
Now I wait in the shadows, the questions remain,
The cross looms before us, the sorrow, the pain.
But soon will the sunrise, and all will be clear,
When the tomb breaks in glory, and silence turns cheer.
No comments:
Post a Comment