But When I Lifted My Eyes, I Saw Jesus Only

There is a famous line from the movie The Sixth Sense that almost everyone recognizes: “I see dead people.” Well, apparently Peter did too. Long before Hollywood turned those words into one of cinema’s most memorable lines, Peter, James, and John climbed a mountain with Jesus and witnessed something astonishing. Jesus was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun, His clothing became white as light, and suddenly two men appeared with Him: Moses and Elijah. Peter responded by offering to build three shelters, one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah. Then, while Peter was still speaking, the Father interrupted him from heaven and directed the disciples toward His Son. When the disciples finally lifted their eyes again, Moses and Elijah were gone. They saw no one except Jesus.

Three Tabernacles

Peter was understandably overwhelmed by what he saw. We should be careful not to accuse Peter of intentionally developing a doctrine that placed Moses and Elijah on exactly the same level as Jesus. Nevertheless, the picture is striking. Peter sees three glorious figures and responds by proposing three shelters. Then heaven interrupts him.

“This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear ye him.”
Matthew 17:5

The Father does not say, “Hear them.” He says, “Hear Him.” The disciples fall on their faces in fear. Jesus approaches and touches them. When they finally lift their eyes, they see no one except Jesus. There is the picture, the message, and the heart of the matter: Jesus only.

Moses Had His Place

None of this dishonors Moses. God chose Moses for an extraordinary purpose. Through Moses came the Law and the deliverance of Israel from Egypt. But Moses was not the Messiah, and Moses was never supposed to become the destination. Jesus Himself said that Moses wrote concerning Him. If we truly honor Moses, we follow the direction in which Moses was pointing. We do not honor the signpost by stopping at the signpost. We honor it by going where it directs us.

Elijah Had His Place

The same principle applies to Elijah. Elijah stood boldly against apostasy and witnessed extraordinary demonstrations of God’s power, but Elijah was not the destination either. Christians have long recognized in Moses and Elijah a fitting picture of the Law and the Prophets standing in the presence of the One toward whom the biblical story was moving. They do not compete with Christ; they testify to Him. The Law has its place and the prophets have their place, but Christ occupies the place belonging to Christ alone. Then the representatives disappear from view, and the One to whom they pointed remains: Jesus only.

Why Are You Consulting Me?

There is another strange biblical encounter with a departed servant of God that belongs in this discussion. Samuel had died. The Philistine army had gathered against Israel, and Saul was terrified. Saul inquired of the LORD, but the LORD did not answer him through dreams, Urim, or prophets. Saul then sought a medium and specifically requested Samuel.

When Samuel appears, Saul explains exactly what he wants. God is no longer answering him, so Saul has called Samuel to tell him what to do. Samuel responds with a haunting question: “Why do you consult me?” Saul’s fundamental problem was not that Samuel was unavailable or that Saul lacked information. His problem was broken obedience before God. Yet instead of confronting the real issue, Saul searched for another avenue to obtain spiritual direction. When our relationship with God becomes strained, when obedience becomes costly, when God seems silent, or when He has already spoken and we do not like what He has said, we are remarkably capable of looking for another route.

Saul’s consultation with a medium should not be carelessly equated with later Christian practices of requesting the intercession of departed saints. They are not identical practices. Nevertheless, Saul’s story establishes a principle worth considering: a servant of God is never a substitute for God, and seeking the servant does not repair a relationship with the Master.

Then Why Do I Need Another Mediator?

Roman Catholic teaching deserves to be represented accurately. Catholicism does not officially teach that saints are additional gods competing with Jesus. It understands the saints within the communion of the Church and teaches that saints in heaven may intercede for believers. The strongest biblical objection is therefore not simply to accuse Catholics of worshiping dead people. The more difficult question is this: Why do I need another intermediary?

“For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.”
1 Timothy 2:5

That verse does not belittle faithful believers who have gone before us. It puts them in their proper place while putting Christ in His. Moses is not my mediator. Elijah is not my mediator. Samuel is not my mediator. Peter is not my mediator. Paul is not my mediator. Mary is not my mediator. Jesus Christ is my mediator. Saints may testify concerning Christ, prophets may point toward Christ, and apostles may preach Christ, but none of them reconciled sinful humanity to God. That belongs to Jesus.

We Already Have Access

The wonder of the Gospel is not that Jesus brings us close enough to God that we can begin searching for somebody else to carry us the rest of the way. Jesus Himself is the way.

“For through him we both have access by one Spirit unto the Father.”
Ephesians 2:18

Look carefully at that movement: through Him, by the Spirit, unto the Father. The believer does not have to stand outside God’s throne room searching for someone spiritually important enough to obtain an audience. Jesus Himself taught His disciples to pray, “Our Father.” Hebrews tells us to come boldly to the throne of grace. If Christ has already opened the door, why are we searching for another entrance?

Honor Is Not Mediation

There is nothing wrong with honoring faithful believers who came before us. Scripture remembers the faithfulness of God’s people across generations. Their faith encourages us, their failures warn us, and their lives can strengthen our own walk. But honoring someone is not the same thing as making that person part of our approach to God. I can thank God for Peter without praying to Peter. I can admire Paul’s faith without asking Paul to carry my prayer to Christ. I can recognize Mary’s extraordinary place in the history of redemption without requiring Mary to provide access to her Son. They have their places within God’s redemptive story, but they are not its center. Jesus is.

The Danger of Building Three Tabernacles

Perhaps Peter’s instinct on that mountain exposes something that exists within all of us. Human beings love building tabernacles. We build them around people, movements, denominations, theological systems, traditions, pastors, teachers, reformers, saints, and even particular eras of church history. Something God genuinely used can gradually become something we elevate until our attention subtly shifts from the One who used it. Then heaven speaks into our tabernacle-building: “This is my beloved Son… hear ye him.”

This is where Protestants need to stop congratulating themselves. We may never kneel before the image of a saint, yet we can elevate a favorite preacher or theologian until that person’s interpretation becomes practically unquestionable. We can do the same thing with catechisms, confessions, systematic theologies, denominational statements, and traditions. Those things are not necessarily wrong. Good theology is a gift. The problem begins when the servant replaces the Master, the signpost replaces the destination, or the thing that testifies about Christ becomes a substitute for coming to Christ Himself.

When We Start Looking for Another Way

The problem beneath all of this is ultimately a problem of the heart. Human beings have a recurring tendency to seek alternate spiritual routes when trust and obedience become difficult. Saul reached backward for Samuel. Peter wanted to preserve the moment by building three tabernacles. Religious people throughout history have repeatedly been tempted to build systems around those whom God used rather than continuing toward the God to whom those servants pointed. The forms change, but the temptation remains: give me something I can consult, systematize, or control rather than requiring me to trust the living God with all my heart.

“Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.”
Proverbs 3:5

The Saints Should Point Us to Jesus

A genuine servant of God should never want to become the destination. John the Baptist expressed the heart of true ministry perfectly: “He must increase, but I must decrease.” If Moses could stand before us today, where would Moses point us? Jesus said Moses wrote concerning Him. If Elijah stood before us, would Elijah direct attention toward himself or toward the God whose Word he proclaimed? The faithful servant continually points beyond himself: Don’t stop with me. Look to Him.

I See Dead People

So yes, the Bible shows us departed servants of God. Samuel appears in that strange and troubling episode at Endor. Moses and Elijah appear with Christ on the Mount of Transfiguration. But notice what Scripture does with those encounters. Saul goes looking for Samuel because he desperately wants spiritual direction, and Samuel asks why Saul is consulting him. Peter unexpectedly sees Moses and Elijah standing with Christ and wants to build three tabernacles, but heaven interrupts him: “This is my beloved Son… hear ye him.” Then the disciples lift their eyes. Moses is gone. Elijah is gone. Scripture leaves us with one of the simplest and most profound pictures imaginable: “They saw no man, save Jesus only.”

Perhaps that is the picture the Church needs again. We can remember those who came before us, honor their faithfulness, learn from their testimony, read their writings, and thank God for their obedience. But we do not need to build another tabernacle. We do not need another mediator. We do not need another way to the Father. The Law couldn’t get us there. The prophets couldn’t get us there. The saints can’t get us there. Our denominations can’t get us there. Our theological systems can’t get us there. Religion can’t get us there. But Jesus did.

He crossed the chasm, reconciled sinful humanity to God, opened the way into the Father’s presence, and invited us to come. So when every other figure fades from view, when every human name resumes its proper place, and when every substitute we have constructed falls to the ground, may we lift our eyes and discover again what Peter, James, and John discovered on that mountain: No man, save Jesus only.