The Mount of Transfiguration

158:5.1As Je­sus drew near, the nine apos­tles were more than re­lieved to wel­come him, and they were greatly en­cour­aged to be­hold the good cheer and un­usual en­thu­si­asm which marked the coun­te­nances of Pe­ter, James, and John. They all rushed for­ward to greet Je­sus and their three breth­ren. As they ex­changed greet­ings, the crowd came up, and Je­sus asked, “What were you dis­put­ing about as we drew near?” But be­fore the dis­con­certed and hu­mil­i­ated apos­tles could re­ply to the Mas­ter’s ques­tion, the anx­ious fa­ther of the af­flicted lad stepped for­ward and, kneel­ing at Je­sus’ feet, said: “Mas­ter, I have a son, an only child, who is pos­sessed by an evil spirit. Not only does he cry out in ter­ror, foam at the mouth, and fall like a dead per­son at the time of seizure, but of­ten­times this evil spirit which pos­sesses him rends him in con­vul­sions and some­times has cast him into the wa­ter and even into the fire. With much grind­ing of teeth and as a re­sult of many bruises, my child wastes away. His life is worse than death; his mother and I are of a sad heart and a bro­ken spirit. About noon yes­ter­day, seek­ing for you, I caught up with your dis­ci­ples, and while we were wait­ing, your apos­tles sought to cast out this de­mon, but they could not do it. And now, Mas­ter, will you do this for us, will you heal my son?”

158:5.2When Je­sus had lis­tened to this recital, he touched the kneel­ing fa­ther and bade him rise while he gave the near-by apos­tles a search­ing sur­vey. Then said Je­sus to all those who stood be­fore him: “O faith­less and per­verse gen­er­a­tion, how long shall I bear with you? How long shall I be with you? How long ere you learn that the works of faith come not forth at the bid­ding of doubt­ing un­be­lief?” And then, point­ing to the be­wil­dered fa­ther, Je­sus said, “Bring hither your son.” And when James had brought the lad be­fore Je­sus, he asked, “How long has the boy been af­flicted in this way?” The fa­ther an­swered, “Since he was a very young child.” And as they talked, the youth was seized with a vi­o­lent at­tack and fell in their midst, gnash­ing his teeth and foam­ing at the mouth. Af­ter a suc­ces­sion of vi­o­lent con­vul­sions he lay there be­fore them as one dead. Now did the fa­ther again kneel at Je­sus’ feet while he im­plored the Mas­ter, say­ing: “If you can cure him, I be­seech you to have com­pas­sion on us and de­liver us from this af­flic­tion.” And when Je­sus heard these words, he looked down into the fa­ther’s anx­ious face, say­ing: “Ques­tion not my Fa­ther’s power of love, only the sin­cer­ity and reach of your faith. All things are pos­si­ble to him who re­ally be­lieves.” And then James of Safed spoke those long-to-be-re­mem­bered words of com­min­gled faith and doubt, “Lord, I be­lieve. I pray you help my un­be­lief.”

158:5.3When Je­sus heard these words, he stepped for­ward and, tak­ing the lad by the hand, said: “I will do this in ac­cor­dance with my Fa­ther’s will and in honor of liv­ing faith. My son, arise! Come out of him, dis­obe­di­ent spirit, and go not back into him.” And plac­ing the hand of the lad in the hand of the fa­ther, Je­sus said: “Go your way. The Fa­ther has granted the de­sire of your soul.” And all who were pres­ent, even the en­e­mies of Je­sus, were as­ton­ished at what they saw.

158:5.4It was in­deed a dis­il­lu­sion­ment for the three apos­tles who had so re­cently en­joyed the spir­i­tual ec­stasy of the scenes and ex­pe­ri­ences of the trans­fig­u­ra­tion, so soon to re­turn to this scene of the de­feat and dis­com­fi­ture of their fel­low apos­tles. But it was ever so with these twelve am­bas­sadors of the king­dom. They never failed to al­ter­nate be­tween ex­al­ta­tion and hu­mil­i­a­tion in their life ex­pe­ri­ences.

158:5.5This was a true heal­ing of a dou­ble af­flic­tion, a phys­i­cal ail­ment and a spirit mal­ady. And the lad was per­ma­nently cured from that hour. When James had de­parted with his re­stored son, Je­sus said: “We go now to Cae­sarea-Phi­lippi; make ready at once.” And they were a quiet group as they jour­neyed south­ward while the crowd fol­lowed on be­hind.