Chapter 3: Removing the Veil

Augustine once said, "You made us for Yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You." That captures the story of humanity in a sentence. We were created for God — not just by Him, but for Him — to live in relationship with Him. But we've broken from that purpose. Like Adam hiding in the trees or Peter backing away from Jesus in shame, we've run from God's manifest Presence.

And yet, God's aim in redemption is to undo this tragedy — to bring us back. He made a way, clearing out our sin and opening the door for full restoration. And He's always drawing us back. That tug on your heart? That restlessness? That's the first sign. The journey back to Him begins there — the inner journey from a life of separation to a life lived in conscious communion.

The Old Testament tabernacle mirrors this journey. First, the outer court — sacrifice, cleansing. Then the holy place — dim light from the candlestick, symbolic bread, rising incense. But beyond that still stood another veil. Behind it was the Holy of Holies, where the Presence of God Himself dwelt. Only the high priest could enter, and only once a year.

But when Jesus died, that inner veil tore from top to bottom. Now the way is open for everyone to live in God's Presence — not just theoretically, but experientially. Not just to believe in Him, but to know Him.

This Presence was the beating heart of Israel's worship. Without it, all their rituals meant nothing. It's the same today. God is not just a doctrine or a verse. He's not confined to theory. He waits, real and present, for His people to come close.

But sadly, many Christians are content to stay outside the veil. We've been taught that we're "positionally" in His Presence, so we settle for that. But the saints of old weren't content with legal standing — they wanted God Himself. And He wants us. He waits, longing to show Himself to those who will come close.

Who is this One behind the veil? It's the living God — Father, Son, and Spirit — One God in glorious unity. The same God who once walked in the garden, who revealed Himself in fire and cloud, who speaks through His Son and now invites us in.

The world is starving for the knowledge of God. And the Church is famished for lack of His Presence. The solution to most of our spiritual struggles is simple: we need to enter. We need to wake up to the reality that God is here — now — and that He wants to fill us with His glory.

But many stay outside because of one thing: a veil still hangs in the heart. The outer veil was torn, yes — but the inner veil, the one inside us, often remains. It's not made of fabric. It's made of self.

This veil is subtle. It's woven from pride, self-righteousness, self-pity, self-sufficiency, and the need to be admired or approved. It can live in the pulpit, thrive in orthodoxy, and even grow strong in the presence of good doctrine. It's a barrier made of the self-life — not of what we do, but of what we are. And it hides God from us.

That veil must be removed. But it won't go quietly. We can't reason it away or tidy it up with theology. It has to be crucified. Torn. Violently removed. This is not a gentle process. To remove this veil is to die — and death always hurts.

Don't imagine this can be accomplished with casual effort or clever thinking. The veil is made of living tissue — the stuff of our own selves — and when it's touched, we feel pain. That's why many avoid it. We prefer the safety of ideas to the danger of transformation.

But if we really want to know God, we must face this cross. We must let Him do the painful work of tearing through our self-protection, our posing, our pride. When that happens — when the veil tears — we begin to live. We step into the Presence. And there, everything changes.

We must not try to manage this ourselves. We must yield, surrender, and allow the Spirit to do His work. We confess. We forsake. We die — and we rise. The cross is brutal, but it is effective. It never leaves its victim hanging forever. There's death, yes — but then comes resurrection, and with it, freedom.

Lord, show us how to die, that we may truly live. Tear the veil from top to bottom. Bring us into Your Presence, not just in theory, but in real, burning experience. Let us walk with You here, so we'll be ready to dwell with You there.