"But
we all, with unveiled face reflecting as a mirror the glory of the
Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as
by the Spirit of the Lord."—2 COR. iii. 18 (Revised
Version).
I suppose there is almost no one
who would deny, if it were put to him, that the greatest possible
attainment a man can make in this world is likeness to The Lord
Jesus Christ. Certainly no one would deny that there is nothing but
character that we can carry out of life with us, and that our
prospect of good in any future life will certainly vary with the
resemblance of our character to that of Jesus Christ, which is to
rule the whole future. We all admit that; but almost every one of
us offers to himself some apology for not being like Christ, and
has scarcely any clear reality of aim of becoming like Him. Why, we
say to ourselves, or we say in our practice, it is really
impossible in a world such as ours is to become perfectly holy. One
or two men in a century may become great saints; given a certain
natural disposition and given exceptionally favouring
circumstances, men may become saintly; but surely the ordinary run
of men, men such as we know ourselves to be, with secular
disposition and with many strong, vigorous passions—surely we can
really not be expected to become like Christ, or, if it is expected
of us, we know that it is impossible. On the contrary, Paul says,
"We all," "we all." Every Christian has that for a destiny: to be
changed into the image of his Lord. And he not only says so, but in
this one verse he reveals to us the mode of becoming like Christ,
and a mode, as we shall find, so simple and so infallible in its
working that a man cannot understand it without renewing his hope
that even he may one day become like Christ.
In order to understand this
simplest mode of sanctification we must look back at the incident
that we read in the Book of Exodus (xxxiv. 29-35.). Paul had been
reading how when Moses came down from the mount where he had been
speaking with God his face shone, so as to dazzle and alarm those
who were near him.
They at once recognised that that
was the glory of God reflected from him; and just as it is almost
as difficult for us to look at the sun reflected from a mirror as
to look directly at the sun, so these men felt it almost as
difficult to look straight at the face of Moses as to look straight
at the face of God. But Moses was a wise man, and he showed his
wisdom in this instance as well as elsewhere. He knew that that
glory was only on the skin of his face, and that of course it would
pass away. It was a superficial shining. And accordingly he put a
veil over his face, that the children of Israel might not see it
dying out from minute to minute and from hour to hour, because he
knew these Israelites thoroughly, and he knew that when they saw
the glory dying out they would say, "God has forsaken Moses. We
need not attend to him any more. His authority is gone, and the
glory of God's presence has passed from him." So Moses wore the
veil that they might not see the glory dying out. But whenever he
was called back to the presence of God he took off the veil and
received a new access of glory on his face, and thus went "from
glory to glory."
"That," says Paul, "is precisely
the process through which we Christian men become like Christ." We
go back to the presence of Christ with unveiled face; and as often
as we stand in His presence, as often as we deal in our spirit with
the living Christ, so often do we take on a little of His glory.
The glory of Christ is His character; and as often as we stand
before Christ, and think of Him, and realise what He was, our heart
goes out and reflects some of His character. And that reflection,
that glory, is not any longer merely on the skin of the face; as
Paul wishes us to recognise, it is a spiritual glory, it is wrought
by the spirit of Christ upon our spirit, and it is we ourselves
that are changed from glory to glory into the very image of the
Lord.
