Matthew 17:1–8 (AMP)
Beloved, if only we could hear the voice of the Father calling our name and singing love songs over us. The ache for identity, the hunger for belonging, the thirst to be known—all of it would be satisfied in one holy moment if our ears were tuned to heaven. And yet, that voice has spoken. It still speaks. On a high mountain bathed in light, God did not merely reveal glory—God told us He loves us.
The Transfiguration of Yeshua was not just a demonstration of divine power—it was the unveiling of divine affection. The Father’s voice did not thunder out commands or declarations of wrath. It sang. It affirmed. It invited. “This is My beloved Son, with whom I am well-pleased and delighted! Listen to Him!” (Matthew 17:5 AMP). These words echo with the joy of a Father who delights in His Son—and in all who are found in Him.
Yeshua brings Peter, James, and John up the mountain. Suddenly, the veil between earth and heaven lifts. His face shines like the sun, His garments radiate with holy light, and Moses and Elijah appear—representing the Law and the Prophets, both now converging in the One who fulfills them all. But even more powerful than what they see is what they hear.
While Peter speaks—still trying to manage glory—the Father interrupts from a bright cloud. He does not instruct them to build, sacrifice, or prove themselves. He says, “This is My beloved Son… Listen to Him.” This is the Father telling us what matters most. Not systems. Not striving. His Son. His love. His voice.
This is God telling us He loves us—by showing us the Son and bidding us to listen. His words are not sterile affirmations; they are love songs sung across the heavens. Just as Zephaniah prophesied:
“The Lord your God is in your midst… He will rejoice over you with joy… He will be quiet in His love… He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy.” (Zephaniah 3:17 AMP)
Do you hear it? The Father rejoicing—singing—over His people. Not with rebuke. Not with shame. But with joy. Just as He delighted in Yeshua before the disciples’ eyes, He delights in all who are hidden in Him. When the Father calls Yeshua “beloved,” He is opening the door for you and me to be beloved, too.
When the disciples fall in fear, Yeshua comes and touches them. He says, “Get up, and do not be afraid.” (Matthew 17:7 AMP). This is what love does. It lifts. It comforts. It silences fear. The One who shines with divine glory also stoops low to touch trembling hearts. He is the voice of the Father’s love made flesh.
And then they look up—and see no one but Jesus alone. This is the destination of love: all other voices, all other fears, all other distractions fade away. Only Yeshua remains. Only love remains. Because in Him, the fullness of the Father’s heart has been revealed.
He told us this long ago:
“You are precious in My sight… and I love you.” (Isaiah 43:4 AMP)
And again:
“I have loved you with an everlasting love;
Therefore I have drawn you with lovingkindness.” (Jeremiah 31:3 AMP)
All of Scripture is God saying, “I love you.” But here, on the mountain, He says it by pointing to His Son—by inviting us to listen to Him, follow Him, and be found in Him.
And in case you still wonder if that voice could ever call your name, hear this:
“I am the good shepherd, and I know My own, and My own know Me… and I lay down My life for the sheep.” (John 10:14–15 NASB)
“My sheep listen to My voice… and they follow Me.” (John 10:27)
The voice that spoke from the cloud on that mountain is the same voice that now calls you by name. The same voice that sang over Yeshua now sings over you. Not because you are perfect. But because you are His.
Let the striving cease. Let the fear be silenced. Let every other name fade.
Only Jesus.
Only love.
Only the voice that calls you “Beloved.”
The heavens thundered, not with wrath but grace,
Your voice sang joy across time and space.
And in Your gaze, we found our name,
Beloved, known, forever the same.
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Prayer:
Abba Father, let us hear Your voice again. Let every barrier, every lie, and every fear be silenced by the sound of Your delight. Thank You for revealing Your heart through Yeshua. Thank You for calling Him beloved—and through Him, calling us Your children. Sing over us until our hearts believe it. Let us rise, unafraid, with Jesus alone in view. And may our ears never stop listening for the song You are still singing. In Yeshua’s name, amen.
Vision:
A Vision: Called by Name and Held in Love
(in the style of Revelation)
Then I looked, and behold—a door standing open in the heavens. And the voice I had heard before, like the sound of many waters, called to me again, saying, “Come up here, beloved one, for I have longed for this hour.”
And immediately, I was in the Spirit—and I saw a vast throne, high and lifted up, and around it were storms of sapphire and emerald light. Lightning laced the sky like veins of glory, and thunder rolled like deep laughter through the foundations of the heavens.
Yet in the midst of all majesty, I saw a Lamb standing, radiant and slain, and He smiled at me. And then I heard the voice of the Ancient of Days, the Father of spirits, the One whose robe fills all eternity, saying: “Call him by name.”
And my name—yes, my name—was spoken aloud. Not with judgment, not in wrath, but in joy. It was like the song of a thousand rivers flowing into one—full, rushing, unmistakable. Every syllable dripped with affection. Every sound thundered with kindness. I felt it in my bones, as if my very soul had been waiting forever to be called just like that.
And then—O wonder of wonders—the King rose from His throne, and the cherubim fell silent. The song of the twenty-four elders paused. And He, the Father of Lights, opened His arms wide and said, “Come to Me, My child.”
With trembling knees, I drew near. But before I could fall before Him, He knelt down, and with hands as vast as galaxies yet gentle as morning mist, He lifted me. He gathered me to Himself, as a father lifts his little one after a long journey.
I was seated in His lap—yes, the lap of El Shaddai—and He held me close to His chest. His breath was like warm wind after rain, filled with the fragrance of myrrh and cedar and joy. I smelled the sweetness of heaven—honey and fire, incense and wildflowers from Eden’s garden.
And then He began to sing.
His voice wrapped around me like a weighted blanket of glory. The melody rose and fell like waves of peace. I felt each note in my skin, like sunlight on closed eyelids. His song had no beginning and no end—it was the music of forever, and it was for me.
He sang of when He formed me in the womb, how He traced every line of my face with delight. He sang of the days I wept and didn’t know He wept too. He sang of the battles I thought I lost and how His angels were guarding me the whole time. He sang of my future—full of purpose, full of presence, full of Him.
And I wept.
But He wiped every tear with His own hand, whispering, “I catch every one. I sing over every scar.”
As He sang, my eyelids grew heavy, not from sorrow, but from perfect rest. The kind of rest that only love can bring. The kind of sleep that Adam knew before the world was wounded. I rested my head against His chest and heard the rhythm of eternity—His heartbeat, steady and strong. I heard it call again: “Mine. Mine. Mine.”
The stars danced above me, and angels hushed their praises to listen.
And I, called by name, held in glory, fell asleep in the lap of God, cradled by the song of the Father.
Forever safe.
Forever home.
Forever loved.
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