It was hot and dusty. It’s always hot and dusty in these mountains, young John thought. He and James had lugged water with them on the long trek up the harsh mountain, but now the skins were much lighter. Too light, he thought, gently shaking one without feeling the comforting slosh of liquid within. We’re going to regret this tonight. We should have brought more water. Peter’s always so greedy, drinking more than his share of the water. I know he doesn’t eat much, but I wish he’d leave more water for the rest of us.

John looked over at his brother James and tried to catch his eye. But it looked like James was very carefully keeping his eyes on the ground right ahead of him. John wasn’t surprised by this. He had needed some time to think about it all, too. But James always needed more time to think about things than John did, and he would get really nasty if John tried to talk about something with him before James was ready. And after today - well, John didn’t want to make James angry. What had happened up on the top of this mountain was like nothing they’d ever seen before, and John felt so many different things welling up inside him. He didn’t know where to begin.

It was funny - just a couple months ago, James and John never really thought about anything. They just did. They fished, and they repaired nets, and they took care of the house, and they sanded and scraped their boat. They went to the synagogue every week, just like they were supposed to, but they’d never really listened to the rabbis. All that stuff was boring, and it didn’t have anything to do with real things - things like boats and water and fish. Like wine and oil and bread. When John was happy, he was smiling, and when he was angry, he was shouting. When he was hungry, he was eating, and when he was thirsty, he was drinking. Then Jesus had come through town with his tattered little bunch of followers. John had just hauled up his nets to find that something had chewed a hole through them, and he’d lost half of his fish. He had let loose a torrent of curses that would take the paint off of one of those statues of Caesar, and Jesus had put his head back and laughed as hard as John had ever heard someone laugh. “Well, you sure are a thundercloud there!” Jesus had said. And John had been so startled by this - by the laugh, by being called a thundercloud - that he’d found himself laughing, too. Exactly what had happened next was rather fuzzy to John, but that very night, he and James had hugged their mother good-bye and left their home to journey with Jesus.

And here he was, trudging down a high mountain with Peter and James and Jesus, kicking up rocks and dust with his sandals, wishing they had brought more water, and wondering what his friends were thinking.

Peter still looked like he’d swallowed a fish - a whole fish, still live and wriggling. He’d been so embarrassed up there at the top. “Let’s build houses and stay here!” John bit back a snicker. He may be a thundercloud, but Peter was always getting excited about hare-brained ideas. All you had to do was hint at something in Peter’s ear, and he’d be jumping around to try to make it happen. It was fun to watch, though, because you could see Peter throwing his entire heart - his entire self - into the things he became excited about. Sometimes John wished he had that kind of passion. But, like his brother James, and like their father, John tended to take things as they came, handle them in the moment, and then let them slip away. He wasn’t the kind of person to try to make things happen, not like Peter.

But that voice… that voice had said to them, “This is my son. I have chosen him, and he is my beloved. Listen to him!” John had been absolutely terrified. The flash of light, the change in Jesus’s face and clothes, Elijah and Moses suddenly being there and just as suddenly being gone - John didn’t know what any of this meant. It was completely unlike anything he had ever experienced, and that made him a little uncomfortable. John snuck another glance at James and saw that James was still watching the ground. John coughed softly, and James looked over and caught his eye. John smiled hesitantly at his brother, hoping they could talk, but James made a small grimace and gave the slightest shake of his head before looking down at the ground again.

Jesus was ahead of them on the path, striding down the mountain serenely and confidently. That’s all right for him, thought John. He is chosen and beloved. Everyone is supposed to listen to him. Just ahead of Jesus, the path curved around a boulder, and Jesus paused before continuing, resting one palm on the rock for a moment before turning around to face them.

The expression on Jesus’s face stopped John in his tracks. Jesus looked tired. No, weary, John thought. It looked like the boulder was holding Jesus up, as if the only thing keeping him standing was that connection to the earth. But at the same time, John got the strangest sense that Jesus was only tenuously connected to the earth any more. He shook his head. Where did that come from? John wondered. Then Jesus put his hand over his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and spoke.

“Um, guys?”

Peter and James stopped short and looked up from the ground. They looked completely surprised, though John still thought Peter looked a bit like he’d swallowed a fish.

John watched Jesus take another breath, take his hand from the boulder and stand up straight, and speak again. “What you saw up there, what you heard - I need you to not tell the other men and women about it.”

Peter gasped. “But, Jesus, why? Everybody should know! You are God’s son, the chosen. We’ve been waiting for you for so long!”

“Everybody isn’t ready to know just yet, Peter,” Jesus said, patiently and a little tenderly. “The time will come. You will know when to tell this story. But for now, it is just something for you and me and James and John.”

Peter swallowed. James nodded silently, still not making eye contact with any of them. John found himself speaking up.

“We trust you, Jesus,” he began. “We will not tell your story until it is time. But…” John paused, unsure of whether he dared to ask the question.

Jesus smiled slightly and prodded. “What is it, John?”

“What happened up there?”

The smile on Jesus’s face grew a little wider, and a glimmer of the brightness that had transfigured him atop the mountain returned to his features. “What did it look like, my friend?”

James looked steadily at the ground, and Peter stared gape-mouthed at John. John chewed his lower lip thoughtfully and then said, “Well, you changed. You were… you, Jesus… and then you were… different. And there was all that light, and Moses and Elijah, and then the voice… and then it was all gone. Quiet. Just like before. And you were you again… but something more.”

“That sounds about right,” Jesus said, nodding. He took a breath as if he would continue, paused, and then started laughing. John stared for a moment, and then started laughing, too. James and Peter stared at them as if they’d lost their wits. John noticed this and started laughing even harder. Soon enough, he was bent double, his hands on his knees, his head shaking, tears in his eyes. John really hoped the others wouldn’t ask why he was laughing, because he had no idea, and somehow this struck him as incredibly funny. But he still had enough of his wits about him to notice that as Jesus laughed, head tipped back to the sky just like that day back home when Jesus had called John a thundercloud, the glow brightened around him again.

Finally the two men were able to calm their laughter and breathe normally again. Peter and James were exchanging uncomfortable glances. Jesus walked back to John and put his hand on John’s shoulder.

“John, my friend, I learned about my death.” John gulped at this, and Peter and James gave up all pretense and just stared at Jesus. “And I was given a choice, to accept it and everything it would mean, or to preserve my life and stay here longer and give up who I am.”

Peter sputtered. “Of course you have to stay here with us!”

Jesus smiled again, tenderly, at his friend. “No, Peter. That is not the choice I made.” John thought Jesus’s eyes looked very distant now, like the deep blue of the eastern sky at the end of sunset. Jesus sighed. “I don’t want to leave you, my friend. I love you all. But I know what I must do, and though it will be hard, I will do it.”

All three men were silent for a moment. James scuffed his foot, then cleared his throat, and then looked up at Jesus. “You’ve never been wrong about anything before, Jesus. Not as long as I’ve known you. If this is your choice, then I know it’s the right one.” His voice trailed off, though John could tell there was more he wanted to say.

John spoke up. “James is right. We will be here with you, Jesus. No matter what you decide, we’ll be here.” Jesus continued to smile, and the glow around him grew brighter.

Peter regained his voice. “I don’t want to lose you, Jesus. We’ve waited - I’ve waited so long. But if this is what you must do… yes, I will be here with you, too. You know I’m your man.”

Jesus stepped forward and placed his hand on Peter’s head. “I know you are my man, Peter. Thank you.” Jesus placed his hand on James’s and John’s heads in turn, thanking each of them. “You are my friends, my dearest friends. I trust you. I am glad you were here with me today.” Jesus paused and sighed. “But now… we need to get back down to the camp before it is dark again. I’m sure supper is waiting for us down there, and the Marys are probably worried sick. You know how they get!”

All four men laughed, and John watched as the glow around Jesus faded into the afternoon sunlight. The mood had changed. Now they were headed for home again, and they were talking and laughing in friendship and camaraderie. John listened to his brother, his friends, and he smiled. He was glad that the awkward silence was broken now, that they wouldn’t return to camp unsure what to say or do. He alone of the three seemed to be thinking about what Jesus had said - learned about my death… give up who I am - and not chattering about small things like food and wine and songs and the families in their camp. John did not really know what these things meant, but he knew he trusted Jesus. John knew he meant what he’d said: he would be with Jesus until the very end, no matter what that looked like.

They arrived at camp as the sun turned to red. The men were greeted with shouts and cheers, and the Marys came running out to alternate between hugs and scolds. All was back to normal. John was home, down from the mountain. And he knew he was not the same person who had gone up the mountain that morning. It felt like so much more than one day had passed. But most of all, it felt good to be home.