The Opaque Veil

“Having therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus” — Hebrews 10:19 (KJV)

Tozer opens this chapter with a sentence written about sixteen hundred years ago by Augustine: “Thou hast formed us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless till they find rest in Thee.” God made us for himself, and nothing else fits. An old catechism agrees: “Man's chief End is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.”

But people ran from God, like Adam hiding among the trees. God is everywhere, so we can't actually escape him. What we lost was his felt presence. Our life became “a life away from the Presence,” and that loss is “the cause of our unceasing restlessness.”

To show the way back, Tozer walks us through the tabernacle, the great tent where Israel worshipped in the wilderness. First came an outer courtyard with an altar. Then, through a curtain, the holy place, lit by a golden lampstand. Then, behind a second, thicker curtain, or veil, the Holy of Holies, where God's presence dwelt. Only the high priest could go in, once a year. When Jesus died, the Gospels say, that veil in the Temple was torn from top to bottom. The way into God's presence is now open to everyone. It is “more than a doctrine to be held, it is a life to be enjoyed every moment of every day.”

So why, Tozer asks, do so many Christians stay outside? “We sense that the call is for us, but still we fail to draw near, and the years pass and we grow old and tired in the outer courts of the tabernacle.” His answer is that there is another veil, one inside us. It is “the close-woven veil of the self-life which we have never truly acknowledged.”

He names its threads. “To be specific, the self-sins are these: self-righteousness, self-pity, self-confidence, self-sufficiency, self-admiration, self-love and a host of others like them.” And then the key line: “They are not something we do, they are something we are.”

These sins can live comfortably in church. Tozer had seen self-promotion in Christian leaders and was sad that it was so common it hardly got noticed. Self, he says, “can fight for the faith of the Reformers and preach eloquently the creed of salvation by grace.” It “seems actually to feed upon orthodoxy and is more at home in a Bible Conference than in a tavern.” He's warning that good religious activity is the perfect place for pride to hide. “Self is the opaque veil that hides the Face of God from us.”

You can't learn your way out of it. Only God can tear this veil, and Tozer won't pretend it is painless. “It is never fun to die.” Letting God deal with your self-pity or your need to be admired hurts, because that veil is part of you. But he doesn't stop at the pain: “There comes a moment when its work is finished and the suffering victim dies. After that is resurrection glory and power.” He ends with a prayer:

“Lord, how excellent are Thy ways, and how devious and dark are the ways of man. Show us how to die, that we may rise again to newness of life. Rend the veil of our self-life from the top down as Thou didst rend the veil of the Temple. We would draw near in full assurance of faith.”

Read that list again. Self-pity after a bad day. Self-admiration when the likes roll in. Self-righteousness when you compare yourself with someone who messed up. Self-sufficiency when you think you can handle everything alone. That is not a reason to despair. It is a reason to be honest.

And notice who does the tearing. Tozer is clear: “God must do everything for us. Our part is to yield and trust.” The curtain in the Temple was torn “from the top down.” The way to God was opened from God's side. Your part is to stop defending the curtain.

One thing to do this week: pick the one self-word from Tozer's list that stung the most. Each night this week, tell God plainly where it showed up that day. No excuses, no beating yourself up. Just name it and hand it over.