From Glory to Glory

Most modern Christians say they want “the glory of God.” We sing about it. We pray for it. We post about it. But if we were honest, a lot of us want glory the way we want a bonfire on a cold night. Warm from a distance. Safe. Controlled. Convenient.

That is NOT how God introduced Himself to a redeemed nation!

About 3,400 years ago, Israel had been rescued from slavery. They had seen impossible deliverance with their own eyes. They walked through the sea. They watched an empire drown behind them. They followed the cloud and the fire. They ate bread they did not bake. They drank water that came from a rock. Power. Provision. Protection. Miracle after miracle

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Then they finally reached Mount Sinai.

God told them to consecrate themselves. Prepare to meet Him. Not because God needed the ritual, but because His presence is not casual. And on the third day, the mountain became a warning label for anyone who thinks God is small.

Thunder. Lightning. Fire. Smoke. Earth trembling. A trumpet sound growing louder with no human hands behind it. The Lord came down. The people saw what they claimed they wanted, and they begged for the unthinkable.

They said they could not take it. They begged for distance. “Do not let God speak to us, lest we die.”

That is the human heart in one sentence. We want God until God gets close enough to expose us.

Moses went up. Moses became the mediator. Moses’ face shined with reflected glory. Moses had to cover his face because the people were afraid. The glory was real, but it was kept at arm’s length.

That story matters because Paul knew it. Paul knew what the veil represented. He knew what fear does to the human soul. And that is why he wrote to the Corinthian church with fire in his pen and mercy in his heart.

Corinth was not a sweet little religious town. It was wealthy, proud, sexually broken, and addicted to status. Even in the ancient world, “live like a Corinthian” meant live with no moral limits. God sent Paul there anyway. Paul stayed. He worked with his hands. He built relationships in real life, not just in sermons. A church was born, filled with people saved out of chaos.

Then Paul left, and the cracks began to show. Spiritual performers rose up. The church started confusing spiritual experiences with spiritual maturity. They wanted polished speakers, not shepherds. They began to question Paul himself.

That is the danger. A church can be loud and still be shallow. A church can be gifted and still be carnal. A church can love the “moment” and refuse the transformation.

So Paul takes them back to the truth that starts all real growth.

“But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed.” (2 Corinthians 3:16)

Notice what Paul does not say. He does not say the veil is removed when you learn more. He does not say it falls when you feel more. He does not say it disappears when you mature over time. He says it happens when you turn.

Turning is not a mood. Turning is not regret. Turning is not tears at an altar with no follow-through. Turning is a real shift. A change of direction. A transfer of authority. Repentance is not punishment. It is the door back to the Father.

And this is where some of us get exposed. You can attend church for years and never turn. You can know verses and never turn. You can serve, give, lead, sing, even move in gifts and never actually turn. You can build a Christian life that looks impressive and still keep God at a safe distance.

The veil does not fall with time. It falls with surrender.

Then Paul goes even deeper.

“And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.” (2 Corinthians 3:18)

That word beholding is not a glance. It is not a quick emotional hit. It is sustained attention. It is fixing your eyes. It is staying in the gaze long enough for the gaze to change you.

What you fix your eyes on is what you become.

If you behold fear, you will become anxious.

If you behold bitterness, you will become hard.

If you behold compromise, you will become numb.

If you behold yourself, you will become proud and fragile.

But if you behold the glory of the Lord, you cannot stay the same. The Spirit changes you. Not into a religious performer, but into the image of Christ. From one degree of glory to another. That is not hype. That is holiness. That is the slow, violent mercy of God reshaping a man or woman from the inside out.

And here is the proof that it is real.

“Therefore, having this ministry by the mercy of God, we do not lose heart.” (2 Corinthians 4:1)

Endurance is one of the most overlooked evidences of glory.

Paul had been beaten, rejected, misunderstood, and slandered, even by people he loved and served. Yet he says, we do not lose heart. Why? Because mercy had done something in him. When a man has truly turned and truly beheld Christ, he becomes steady. Not because life gets easier, but because he is no longer living off spiritual moments. He is living off the presence of Jesus.

People who chase moments burn out.

People who behold Christ stand firm.

So here is the gut check.

Some of you do not need another sermon.

You do not need a new podcast.

You do not need another “fresh word.”

You need to turn!

You have been close to God in the past, but lately you have been keeping a safe distance. You have been managing your sin instead of confessing it. You have been coping instead of consecrating. And deep down you know it.

The invitation is not to pretend harder. The invitation is to come out from behind the veil.

Turn to the Lord.

Behold His glory.

Let the Spirit do what you cannot do.

That is how you go from glory to glory!