Introduction – A Wall Comes Down, A Veil Is Rent Down
I still remember the summer of 1964 when our family crossed from West Germany into East. We were crammed into a Volkswagen bus—my parents up front, four sisters and two brothers jammed shoulder to shoulder. The youngest, little Sarah, was still in diapers, dozing and fussing in turns. Space was so tight that our laundry dried as we drove, tied to the rear-view mirrors and the rack on top of the mini-bus, shirts and diapers snapping in the wind.
We were headed to visit a family my dad had known from his time in Europe during World War II. That day I tasted fresh raspberries for the first time—sweet, sun-warmed, unforgettable—a little burst of joy in a day otherwise heavy with tension.
Because getting there meant crossing the Berlin Wall.
The wall was only three years old then, but already infamous—concrete, razor wire, and armed guard towers that divided families and froze politics. At the checkpoint the mood shifted.
Soldiers with hard eyes and hard voices ordered us out. Mirrors swept under the bus. Questions were fired in German. Rifles stood ready.
As a boy I felt the weight of it all: this wall wasn’t just stone; it was a message that shouted Keep Out.
Fast-forward a quarter century to November 1989.
Crowds gather at that same barrier. For a generation it has split parents from children, lovers from each other. Then—without warning—word spreads: “The gate is opening.”
A metallic groan of hinges, a stunned hush, and then a roar as people surge through, laughing and weeping.
Overnight a wall that defined nations simply collapses.
If a human wall of concrete and barbed wire can come down in a single night,
imagine something infinitely greater:
“At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook and the rocks split.” (Matthew 27:51)
The Berlin Wall came down.
The temple veil came down.
One by politics, the other by God Himself.
One gave families a chance to reunite.
The other opened the way for the whole human race to be reconciled to the Father.
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Scene at Calvary
Now walk with me to another Friday afternoon, centuries earlier, outside Jerusalem.
Darkness covers the land from noon until three.
The air grows heavy, unnatural.
The crowd shifts nervously.
Soldiers glance at the sky.
At the center stands a wooden cross.
The Son of God hangs there, beaten and bleeding.
And then Jesus lifts His voice: “It is finished!” (John 19:30).
The words are not of defeat but of triumph.
He bows His head and gives up His spirit.
At that very moment, the earth convulses.
Rocks split. Tombs open.
And deep inside the temple, unseen by most, something impossible happens:
the massive veil that for centuries barred sinners from the Most Holy Place is ripped apart—from top to bottom.
Through the Eyes of a Temple Priest
I had just trimmed the golden lampstand and was preparing the incense for the evening sacrifice.
The air was thick with the sweet fragrance of frankincense and the quiet shuffle of fellow priests at their stations.
Suddenly the ground shuddered beneath my feet. A low rumble rose like distant thunder until the very walls seemed to groan.
I gripped the lamp to steady myself. Then a sound like tearing lightning cracked the silence.
I turned—and froze. The great veil, sixty feet high and hand-breadth thick, the very barrier between the Holy Place and the Most Holy Place, was ripping. Not from the bottom, where human hands might reach, but from the top—split as if an unseen giant were drawing it apart.
Fibers snapped, the massive fabric sagged and collapsed in two halves. Light from the Most Holy Place poured out—light no living priest had ever dared to see. My knees buckled. One priest dropped his bowl of incense.
Another covered his face. We waited for judgment fire… but none came. Only a rushing stillness, a presence that felt like mercy flooding in where fear had ruled.
Something greater than the temple had just happened. Whatever sacrifice was being offered outside the city walls had shaken the heart of the temple itself.
That is what God was declaring when He tore the curtain:
the barrier is gone, the price is paid, the way is open.
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What the Veil Meant
To grasp the power of that moment we need to remember what that veil signified.
From the days of Moses’ tabernacle to Solomon’s temple and finally Herod’s, the curtain separated the Holy Place from the Most Holy Place. It was woven of blue, purple, and scarlet yarn, heavy and thick—some say four inches thick and sixty feet high.
Behind it rested the Ark of the Covenant, the mercy seat, and the blazing symbol of God’s presence. Only one man, the high priest, entered that space, and only once a year on the Day of Atonement, and never without the blood of sacrifice.
Every stitch of that curtain preached the same sermon: “Keep out. God is holy. You are not.”
It wasn’t merely fabric. It was the architecture of separation—a divinely ordained reminder that sin had created an uncrossable gap between humanity and a holy God.
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What the Torn Veil Declared
Now hear Hebrews 10:19–22: “We have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body.”
Three world-changing truths flow from those words.
Access Granted.
For the first time since Eden, the way back to the presence of God is open.
No longer do we wait outside while a single priest enters once a year.
By the blood of Jesus we ourselves are invited to come boldly to the throne of grace.
Sacrifice Complete.
Every lamb slain on Israel’s altars was only a shadow of this moment.
When Jesus cried, “It is finished,” He offered the one sacrifice sufficient for all sin, for all time.
No further blood is needed.
As Hebrews 10:12 says, “But when Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, he sat down at the right hand of God.”
Presence Released.
God’s dwelling is no longer a building of stone.
He lives in His people.
The true temple is now the community of those redeemed in Christ (1 Corinthians 3:16).
When Jesus cried, “It is finished,” He was not merely saying His suffering was over.
He meant that everything in the temple calendar and sacrificial services had reached its goal in Him.
Every festival, every priestly duty, every lamb, every ram, every bull—all of it had been a living prophecy pointing to His life and saving death.
With the cross those symbols were fulfilled.
The veil was torn because the spotless Lamb had been sacrificed.
And in that cry, the very first gospel promise was fulfilled—the word spoken in Eden that the Seed of the woman would crush the serpent’s head (Genesis 3:15).
It is finished was a declaration of sin’s defeat and Satan’s doom.
No more sacrifices are needed.
No lambs, no rams, no bulls —the true Lamb has been offered once for all.
And now, in the New Testament pattern, we are a royal priesthood (1 Peter 2:9),
welcomed to draw near with confidence and to live every day in the presence of God.
The torn veil was not just a miracle of fabric.
It was God’s own declaration:
The barrier is gone. The price is paid. Come home.
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Living in the Open Way
Because the veil is gone, we live every day in a new reality
—not just one day a week, not just at the end of time, but now.
When I think of that torn curtain, I picture what happens every time I bow my head in prayer.
I’m not standing outside a locked gate hoping someone hears me on the other side.
I’m already in the throne room.
Hebrews 4:16 says, “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”
Confidence doesn’t mean arrogance;
it means the quiet boldness of a child who knows the Father loves them.
Have you ever whispered a prayer in the middle of a sleepless night, or driving home after hard news, and sensed God was listening before you finished the first sentence?
That is what living in the open way feels like.
No temple hours.
No holy land ticket.
No priestly appointment.
The God of heaven bends low and says, “I am here. Speak to Me.”
This changes worship too.
We treasure this church building, but the building is not the meeting place—Christ is.
Whether it’s a cathedral or a living room or a barn in the middle of winter, the presence of Jesus makes it a Most Holy Place. That’s why Jesus told the woman at the well, “True worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth” (John 4:23).
We don’t go somewhere to meet Him; we gather anywhere because He is already with us.
Every hymn, every prayer, every communion cup is an experience inside the veil.
It reshapes mission.
If the curtain is gone for us, it’s gone for the people you know who still think they have to climb their way to God.
Your neighbor who believes church is only for the clean and respectable?
Tell them the way is open.
Your co-worker who carries a silent, private shame?
Tell them the debt has already been paid.
Think of an old bill stamped in bold red ink: Paid in Full.
Would you keep mailing payments every month just in case?
To return to animal sacrifice—or to any human mediator—is like trying to pay a bill long since settled. The cross has cancelled the debt forever. Living in the open way is more than theology; it is a way of walking through each day.
Brother Lawrence called it “practicing the presence of God.” It means treating the kitchen table, the office, the garden, the freeway as holy ground because the Holy One lives in you.
It means letting His companionship steady you when you’re tempted, comfort you when you’re lonely, and guide you when decisions loom. So I ask you: where do you need to remember today that the curtain is gone?
Is it the anxiety you carried into this room?
The guilt you can’t quite forget?
The uncertainty waiting tomorrow morning?
Pause and hear Him say: “Draw near. The way is open. I am already here.”
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Appeal – Draw Near
Hebrews 10:22 calls us: “Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith.”
Friend, nothing stands between you and God except the choice to stay outside.
You don’t need a priestly appointment, a holy building, or an earthly altar.
The invitation is open, the curtain gone, the way clear.
Come boldly. Come today.
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Closing Prayer
Father, thank You that Jesus, our true Lamb and High Priest, has opened the way.
Give us boldness to live in Your presence and humility to trust only in His finished work.
Keep us close to Your heart every moment.
In Jesus’ name, amen.
