“I can see clearly now, the rain is gone.”
That old lyric stays in my mind, not because I miss the seventies, but because it paints a spiritual picture. When the clouds roll away and the rain stops, colors come alive. Things that looked lost suddenly stand right in front of you.
That is what happens when the grace of God clears the eyes of the heart. Every believer has walked through seasons of fog—when faith felt dull, prayer felt empty, and God seemed hidden behind gray skies. Then, one day, the Spirit breathed, and something cleared. A verse that used to lie flat on the page suddenly burned. A song you’ve sung a hundred times suddenly became your story.
Paul says, “For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” (2 Cor 4 : 6)
The same God who said “Let there be light” still speaks light into human hearts. Salvation isn’t only forgiveness—it’s illumination. When the fog lifts, you begin to see Jesus as more than an idea, more than doctrine—He becomes glorious.
But even now, Paul adds, “We see through a glass, darkly.” (1 Cor 13 : 12) We catch reflections, not the full blaze. Worship and Scripture are mirrors turned toward heaven, showing us hints of His face. And one day, the mirror will be taken away, and we’ll see face to face.
That’s what Jesus prayed for the night before the cross:
“Father, I will that they also, whom Thou hast given Me, be with Me where I am; that they may behold My glory, which Thou hast given Me: for Thou lovedst Me before the foundation of the world.” (John 17 : 24)
The Savior’s last recorded request before Calvary was for our sight. He didn’t say, “Father, make them comfortable.” He said, “Let them see Me.”
Glory isn’t decoration; it’s revelation. It’s the visible expression of God’s invisible character. When we behold His glory, we behold His heart. And notice His confidence—He didn’t whisper, “I wish.” He said, “I will.” The One who prayed that prayer is still praying it through you today.
So when your faith blurs, remember: Jesus Himself has asked the Father that your eyes would see. You are living in the answer to His prayer.
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Why Glory Matters
In Scripture, glory means weight, worth, and radiant reality. Moses saw it on Sinai, Isaiah in the temple, shepherds in Bethlehem’s night sky. But in Jesus Christ, glory took on skin and bone. “We beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.” (John 1 : 14)
Every miracle, every parable, every act of mercy was a flash of that eternal brightness. Yet the world missed it. Even His closest friends often misunderstood. Aren’t we much the same? We can be near holy things and not notice the holiness of them.
That’s why worship matters so much. Worship re-centers our eyes. It’s not filler before the sermon; it’s the act of looking long enough until the fog clears and we can say, “I see Him.” When truth becomes light and theology becomes song, the heart sees again.
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Through a Glass, Darkly
The ancients polished metal into mirrors. You could see a reflection, but it was never crisp. That’s our spiritual vision now. Real, but partial. Yet even glimpses change us.
Moses only saw God’s afterglow, and his face shone so brightly the people begged him to veil it. If that small reflection could transform him, imagine what the unveiled vision will do to us.
So each time you open Scripture, don’t just read for information—read for illumination. Pray, “Lord, show me Your glory in this page.” When you sing, sing to see. When you pray, seek not only His hand but His face. Every glimpse enlarges faith.
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The Cross: Where Glory Shines Brightest
It almost sounds strange that Jesus spoke of glory while walking toward crucifixion. But Calvary was not the eclipse of glory—it was its explosion. The world saw a man defeated; heaven saw a King enthroned.
When He cried, “It is finished,” the veil tore. The fog lifted. For the first time since Eden, humanity could see God’s heart without obstruction—holy love blazing through suffering.
If you want to know what glory looks like, don’t look first to the Mount of Transfiguration where His face shone like the sun; look to the hill where His head wore thorns. There, holiness and mercy kissed. The more you behold that cross, the clearer everything else becomes. Sin looks uglier, grace looks richer, heaven looks nearer.
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The Progressive Vision
Sight deepens. When you first came to Christ, you saw forgiveness. As you’ve walked with Him, you’ve seen His patience in detours, His faithfulness in silence, His kindness in discipline. Salvation opens the eyes; sanctification sharpens them; glorification will perfect them.
Paul wrote, “But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory.” (2 Cor 3 : 18) Beholding brings becoming. You grow into whatever you continually gaze upon.
Moses didn’t decide to shine—he simply stayed near the light until the light marked him. Worship works the same way. The enemy doesn’t have to destroy faith; he only has to distract it. Guard your focus. Keep looking until faith becomes sight.
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The Worshiper’s Calling
Every believer is a reflector of glory. You don’t need a pulpit to lead worship; you only need a life that mirrors Christ.
When you forgive, you reflect His mercy.
When you serve quietly, you reflect His humility.
When you keep hoping in hardship, you reflect His endurance.
You become a living sanctuary, a window through which others glimpse Jesus. But you can’t reflect what you haven’t beheld. Ten hurried minutes can’t substitute for lingering. Glory isn’t microwaved; it’s marinated. Stay until His beauty changes you. The light you receive becomes the light you release.
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The Final Vision
There will come a day when faith will have nothing left to believe for because it will have everything to behold.
“They shall see His face.” (Revelation 22 : 4)
No more guesses, no more glimpses. We will look into the eyes of the One who prayed, “Father, I will that they behold My glory.” What Moses feared to see, what Isaiah glimpsed, what Peter saw for a moment—we will gaze upon forever.
Not because we are worthy, but because the Lamb has made us so. The redeemed will sing, “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain.” Heaven’s song will not celebrate our record but His redemption. In that light, every mystery will make sense. The storm will be over. The rain will be gone. We will see clearly now.
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Living for the Vision
But you don’t have to wait for heaven to begin seeing. The same Spirit who will open your eyes then is opening them now. Every prayer that says, “Lord, show me Your glory,” is already being answered.
When you worship through pain, your vision clears. When you obey in darkness, light expands. When you forgive, the window brightens.
The tragedy of modern faith is that we decorate the mirror instead of cleaning it. God calls us back to simplicity—back to hearts that just want to see.
Moses said, “Show me Thy glory.”
David said, “Thy face, Lord, will I seek.”
Paul said, “That I may know Him.”
Jesus promised, “Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.”
Maybe disappointment has clouded your glass. Maybe your worship feels mechanical. Then pray again: Lord, clear my vision. He can do that this very Sabbath.
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A Personal Moment
After a storm once, I stood outside watching the clouds break. The mountain ridge that had vanished now stood sharp and green. The Spirit whispered, “The mountain never moved; only the clouds did.”
That’s how it is with God. The glory has always been here. The light still shines in the face of Jesus Christ. We just need the Spirit to wipe the glass clean.
So pray like the blind man outside Jericho: “Lord, that I might receive my sight.” When He opens your eyes, you’ll find what the song promised—bright, sun-shiny days—not because life is perfect, but because your view of Him is clear.
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Final Blessing
As you go, may the Lord lift every veil from your heart.
May the eyes of your understanding be enlightened.
May the same light that shone out of darkness shine in you until others see His glory reflected in your life.
And may you walk each day a little clearer, a little nearer, a little more radiant—until the day you see Him face to face.
