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It Is Good for Us to Be Here
The Mountain Revealed Within the Heart
“It is indeed good to be here, as you have said, Peter. It is good to be with Jesus and to remain here for ever.”
— St. Anastasius of Sinai
The Feast of the Transfiguration is not simply a remembrance of a moment that took place long ago upon Mount Tabor. It is the revelation of the destiny of every human heart. Christ does not ascend the mountain in order to escape the world but to reveal what the world, and above all the human person, is meant to become through communion with Him.
St. Anastasius of Sinai says that the Lord granted this vision to strengthen the disciples before the scandal of the Cross, “to banish from their hearts any possible doubt concerning the kingdom.” Before they would behold His face disfigured by suffering, they were first permitted to behold it shining with uncreated light. The glory of Tabor was not an interruption of the Gospel but the unveiling of its deepest truth: the Cross always conceals within itself the radiance of the Resurrection.
How merciful God is with us. He knows how easily we lose heart. He knows how quickly the burdens of daily life cloud our vision. There are moments when prayer grows dry, when the heart feels heavy, when the world seems louder than the whisper of grace. At such times the memory of Tabor becomes essential. We remember not merely what Peter, James, and John saw, but what Christ desires to reveal within each of us through perseverance in prayer.
The Desert Fathers understood this well. They did not seek extraordinary visions. Rather, they climbed another mountain—the mountain of the heart. Through silence, repentance, tears, and the continual remembrance of the holy Name, they allowed the Light that shone upon Tabor gradually to illumine the hidden chambers of their own souls. As St. Isaac the Syrian teaches, the purified heart begins to behold creation itself bathed in divine mercy because it has first learned to behold Christ dwelling within.
It is striking that Peter exclaims, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.” St. Anastasius pauses over those words with remarkable tenderness: “It is indeed good to be here… What greater happiness or higher honour could we have than to be with God, to be made like him and to live in his light?”
Those words deserve to linger within us.
How often we say instead, It will be good when… When circumstances improve. When suffering ends. When responsibilities lessen. When life finally becomes manageable. Yet Peter discovers that the deepest joy is not found in changed circumstances but in the unveiled presence of Christ.
The modern elders return us continually to this same truth. Elder Aimilianos would often say that the spiritual life begins when Christ becomes our only necessity. Elder Sophrony reminds us that prayer is not the search for experiences but the patient standing before the living God. When Christ becomes the center of our existence, even the ordinary moments of life become quietly luminous. We begin to discover that the Kingdom does not wait for another place or another time. It is already drawing near within the heart that welcomes Him.
St. Anastasius brings this mystery even closer when he writes that Christ desires to dwell within us, so that each of us may truly say, “It is good for us to be here”—here, in the heart where “all things shine with divine radiance… where there is nothing but peace, serenity and stillness.”
This is why stillness is never an escape. It is the place where the face of Christ is no longer obscured by the countless images that occupy the mind. The Jesus Prayer, faithfully offered over months and years, gradually gathers the scattered heart until it becomes capable of receiving that quiet light. We cease striving to manufacture holiness and instead allow ourselves to be illumined by the One who is Himself the Light.
The monks of the desert knew that every cell could become Tabor. The fathers taught that the kingdom is discovered not by traveling great distances but by descending into the depths of the heart with humility and perseverance. There, hidden from the eyes of the world, Christ continues His Transfiguration. He slowly restores the image that sin has obscured, healing our vision until we begin to see all things in His light.
Perhaps that is the grace we should seek today—not extraordinary experiences, but the grace to remain. To remain in prayer when prayer seems barren. To remain in silence when distractions multiply. To remain before Christ when every instinct urges us elsewhere. For it is in this hidden fidelity that the light of Tabor quietly enters the soul.
Then, one day, almost without noticing, Peter’s words become our own. Not because every difficulty has vanished, but because Christ Himself has become our dwelling place.
And from the depths of the heart, healed by His presence and filled with holy desire and wonder, we too shall be able to say with quiet certainty:
Lord, it is good for us to be here.
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