Through The Bible in a Year - July 1, 2026

"And when they came to the crowd, a man came up to him and, kneeling before him, said, 'Lord, have mercy on my son, for he has seizures and he suffers terribly. For often he falls into the fire, and often into the water... And Jesus rebuked the demon, and it came out of him, and the boy was healed instantly." - Matthew 17:14-18

Jesus and his disciples came down from the mountain of Transfiguration—from blazing glory, from Moses and Elijah, from the voice of God—and walked straight into a father's desperate grief.

"Lord, have mercy on my son. He has seizures and he suffers terribly. He falls into fire and water. I can't fix this."

There was no gradual transition from the transcendent to the urgent. One moment: the overwhelming glory of the Transfiguration. The next moment: a desperate father and a suffering child in the valley.

The jarring transitions were not an impediment to Jesus’s heart. He healed the boy instantly.

The God of the mountain is also the God of the valley.

I once rafted the length of the Grand Canyon. We started the journey hiking down from the rim of the canyon. The view from the rim was staggering—a chasm 20 miles wide, a mile deep, with red rock blazing in low humidity clarity. Then we got to the river at the bottom of the canyon and began to raft, discovering other staggering realities. When our raft reached Lava Falls, we faced 30-foot waves, a dogleg turn that could plaster you against a rock wall, and fear. Suddenly, the God of the rim wasn't enough. We needed the God of the raft. The one who would be present in this specific set of rapids, in this specific danger, and at this specific time – right now.

This is why the Transfiguration matters for everyday life. The mountain view, with its revelation of God’s incredible plan, persevering grace, and overwhelming glory—isn't just for our meditation from the spiritual heights of a comfortable Sunday. It's the foundation for surviving Monday, and the rough waters of all the days that follow.

Once you know the God of the rim, you can trust the God of the raft.

When you've seen God orchestrate thousands of years of history to put Moses and Elijah on a mountain beside His transfigured Son—when you know that plan was written before the foundation of the world and includes you specifically—then when your fears come, when the rapids hit, when the waves threaten to take your faith underwater, then you can still trust and hold onto the One who is both on the canyon rim and in the raft with you.

You're not calling to a distant deity who set things in motion and walked away. You're calling to the God who touched three terrified disciples with the encouragement to "Rise. Have no fear." You are also calling to the God who came down from the mountain to comfort a despairing father and heal a desperate child.

Jesus came down from the mountain then. He will come into your raft now.

Respond: What rapids are you navigating right now? What situation is threatening to take you or someone you love under the water because the waves seem too big to navigate?

The God who blazed like the sun on the mountain is the same God who stepped off that mountain to heal a suffering child instantly when a desperate father fell to his knees.

He is not too majestic to enter the raft of your fears. He is not too transcendent to ignore your rapids. He came all the way from glory, and walked down the mountain that showed his glory, to help a father who couldn't fix his son's seizures.

This week, bring your specific rapids to Him—the crises or worries that are that are threatening to overturn everything. Tell Jesus exactly what the father told Him: "Lord, have mercy. He suffers terribly. I can't fix this." Then trust the God of the rim to get into your raft and help you.

Prayer: Lord, I am grateful for the view from the rim—the grand sweep of Your plan, the blazing glory of Your Son, the incredible promise that You are working all things together for good. But there are times when I'm not on the rim. I'm navigating the rapids. Then, I understand that I can't power through my problems on my own. The waves are too big, the current too strong. I need the God of the raft, not just the God of the rim. Thank you for showing that you are that God because Jesus came down from the mountain to heal a boy instantly when his desperate father knelt before You. I'm kneeling. Have mercy. Get in my raft. Take me through. In Jesus' name, Amen.