2 Corinthians 3:18 (NASB 1995)
“But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit.”
John 1:14 (NASB 1995)
“And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth.”
Devotional
The Apostle Paul, in 2 Corinthians 3:18, reveals a profound truth: the believer’s journey is one of continual transformation, shaped by the unveiled beholding of Christ’s glory. Under the Old Covenant, Moses wore a veil to shield Israel from the overwhelming radiance reflected from God’s presence. That veil symbolized the distance, the separation inherent between a holy God and sinful humanity.
Yet, in Christ, this veil is removed. The glory of God, once distant and concealed, now shines fully in the face of Jesus Christ. As John 1:14 declares, “we saw His glory”—a glory not wrapped in mystery but revealed in grace and truth. No longer do we gaze from afar. In Christ, we behold directly, intimately.
This beholding is not passive; it is transformative. To see His glory is to be changed by it. The more we contemplate Christ, the more His likeness is imprinted upon our hearts. Transformation does not arise from human striving but from divine reflection—”from glory to glory,” by the Spirit’s work. We are called not only to witness this glory but to embody it.
Let us then draw near with unveiled faces, leaving behind every barrier of fear, doubt, or sin. In the radiance of His presence, our hearts are renewed, and our lives become a testimony to the grace that reveals, redeems, and restores.
A Veil Removed—Radiant God’s Glory, Flossie’s Faith
The scent of lavender clung to the breeze, mingling with the earthy fragrance of sun-warmed soil, as it drifted through the sleepy village nestled beneath gentle hills, their peaks kissed by a sky brushed in soft cerulean. Cedar Hollow, as it was known, held a stillness that wrapped itself around every home, every heart. And at its heart was Flossie Mayfield—a woman whose laughter, light and free, rang like windchimes swaying in a spring breeze.
Flossie was known for her kindness, a heart that gave without measure, and a faith that had weathered many seasons. Yet even in her unwavering devotion, a quiet longing stirred within her soul—a desire for something deeper, something unseen. Each day, she joined her neighbors beneath an ancient oak tree, its branches sprawling wide like a sheltering hand, where they gathered to hear Elder Steve speak the words of Scripture.
Steve, with hair silvered by time and eyes bright with wisdom, stood before them one sun-dappled afternoon, Bible in hand, and shared a story that would awaken something eternal in Flossie’s heart. He spoke of Moses, the man who stood on holy ground, who beheld the glory of God upon Mount Sinai. His face, radiant with divine light, had to be veiled—the brilliance too great for human eyes. That veil, Steve said, marked the distance between God’s holiness and man’s frailty.
As the story unfolded, Flossie sat still, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes wide. She could almost see it—the mountain trembling, the sky alight, the figure of Moses descending, veiled in mystery, bearing the glow of the Almighty. Her heart stirred with awe, but more than that, with yearning.
That night, alone in her small room lit only by moonlight slipping through the shutters, Flossie lay awake, her thoughts consumed. Why must there be a veil? she wondered. Why must God’s glory remain distant, shielded? Kneeling by her bed, she whispered a prayer, trembling with longing. “Lord, I want to see You. Not from afar. Remove the veil. Show me Your glory.”
Days passed, and the village remained as it always had—simple, serene. But something was about to shift. A traveling preacher named Richard arrived, his presence humble, his voice firm yet gentle, like the steady flow of the creek that ran through the hollow. He spoke of Jesus, not as a distant figure, but as the Word made flesh, who dwelled among men. He spoke of grace, of truth, and of a veil torn—not by man, but by the sacrifice of the Son of God.
Flossie, drawn like a moth to flame, attended every gathering. Richard’s words struck chords deep within her, echoing her own prayer. One evening, beneath a sky streaked with gold and rose, she approached him, her heart pounding. “Tell me more,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “about Jesus—the one who unveils God’s glory.”
Richard’s eyes softened. “Flossie, Jesus is the glory of God revealed. The veil you long to be lifted? He has already torn it. Through His life, death, and resurrection, we are no longer strangers to His presence. In Him, we behold God—full of grace, full of truth.”
Hope swelled within her chest, tender and fierce. In the weeks that followed, Flossie gave herself wholly to the pursuit of knowing Christ. Mornings found her in the Scriptures, evenings in prayer. She began to see with new eyes, not just the words on the page, but the heart behind them—a Savior drawing her near.
And then, one morning, beneath the ancient oak, Flossie sat quietly, the sun warm on her face. She closed her eyes, breathing in the peace around her, when suddenly, she felt it—not in visions or sounds, but in stillness. A nearness. A presence. As though the veil had indeed been lifted, not from her sight, but from her heart.
Tears welled up, unbidden. She understood now. The glory she had longed for was not some distant light, but the nearness of Jesus Himself. The transformation she sought was not in outward brilliance but in inward renewal. She was being changed—from one degree of glory to another—not by striving, but by beholding.
Her life bore witness to this change. The villagers saw it in her eyes, heard it in her words, felt it in her presence. The light of Christ shone through her, not with the brilliance of Sinai, but with the quiet radiance of grace. She became, to them, what Richard had been to her—a living testimony of unveiled communion.
Word spread quickly, and soon others gathered under the oak to hear Flossie speak—not of herself, but of Jesus. She told them how the veil had been torn, how they too could draw near. How the glory of God, once veiled, now invited them to behold, to believe, and to be transformed.
Reflection
Flossie’s journey is a gentle yet profound reminder that God’s glory is not reserved for the few or the distant. In Christ, the veil is gone. The invitation to behold Him—to know Him—is open to all. It is not about outward spectacle but about inward renewal. As we, with unveiled faces, behold the Lord, we are changed. Day by day, glory by glory, we become reflections of His grace and truth in a world desperate for light.
Key Takeaway
Through Christ, the veil is torn, and we are called into a relationship of open, transforming communion with God—reflecting His glory daily.
Practical Application
Identify areas where veils still linger—old fears, lingering doubts, or unconfessed sins. Bring them into the light through prayer and Scripture. Make time each day to behold Jesus in His Word, allowing His Spirit to shape your heart, thoughts, and actions into His likeness.
Short Prayer
Lord Jesus, with unveiled hearts, we long to behold Your glory. Draw us near, transform us daily, and let Your light shine through us. Amen.
Closing Thoughts
Transformation in Christ is not sudden, but steady. As we behold Him, we are shaped—bit by bit—into His likeness. Let us not grow weary, but remain in awe, knowing His glory meets us in the quiet, in the ordinary, and in the seeking.
Quote
“Transformation begins when the veil is lifted and we behold Him fully.”