Through the Torn Veil: Living in Sacred Confidence
“For the Souls in Purgatory – Eternal rest grant unto them O Lord”
Hebrews 10:19-25
Therefore, brothers and sisters, since through the blood of Jesus we have confidence of entrance into the sanctuary by the new and living way he opened for us through the veil, that is, his flesh, and since we have “a great priest over the house of God,” let us approach with a sincere heart and in absolute trust, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed in pure water. Let us hold unwaveringly to our confession that gives us hope, for he who made the promise is trustworthy. We must consider how to rouse one another to love and good works. We should not stay away from our assembly, as is the custom of some, but encourage one another, and this all the more as you see the day drawing near.
Grace Prayed For
Lord Jesus, grant me the grace of absolute trust—to approach your heart with confidence and sincerity, knowing that you have opened the way for me. Help me surrender my pretense and receive your mercy fully, so that this intimacy might overflow naturally into every encounter, making me a living sign of your welcoming love.
Reflection
What does it mean to have “confidence of entrance into the sanctuary”? In the ancient temple, only the high priest could pass through the veil into the Holy of Holies, and only once a year. But Jesus has torn that veil—not with his hands, but with his very flesh. He didn’t just open a door for us; he became the door. His body, broken and given, is the pathway into the heart of God.
This is the stunning invitation before you: to walk through Jesus himself into intimacy with the Trinity. Not timidly, not apologetically, but with confidence. Not because of your worthiness, but because of his blood. The Father doesn’t wait behind closed doors, arms crossed, wondering if you’ve earned entrance. He waits with the heart of the father in the prodigal son story—scanning the horizon, ready to run toward you.
But notice the condition for this approach: “a sincere heart and in absolute trust.” Intimacy with Jesus cannot grow where pretense lives. He invites you to come as you are—not as you think you should be, not wearing the mask of having it all together. Surrender means laying down the carefully constructed image, the defenses, the explanations. It means standing before him with empty hands and a truthful heart, saying, “This is who I really am. This is where I really am.”
Trust is surrender’s twin. To trust absolutely means to believe that Jesus sees everything—your wounds, your weaknesses, your secret shames—and loves you not despite them but through them, meeting you precisely there. The “evil conscience” that needs to be sprinkled clean isn’t erased by your trying harder; it’s cleansed by letting his mercy wash over it. This is what deepens intimacy: the vulnerable act of letting him see you fully and believing he won’t turn away.
But here’s where the passage takes a beautiful turn outward: “We must consider how to rouse one another to love and good works.” The intimacy you’re cultivating with Jesus isn’t meant to be hoarded like a private treasure. It’s meant to overflow. When you’ve encountered the God who welcomes you into the sanctuary with confidence, you become someone who welcomes others with the same mercy. When you’ve been met in your brokenness, you learn to meet others in theirs.
This is how love shines forth from you: not as a forced performance, but as a natural overflow. Every encounter becomes an opportunity to be a living veil torn open, a doorway through which others might glimpse the welcoming heart of God. The stranger in the grocery store, the difficult coworker, the family member who frustrates you—each one stands before a potential sanctuary entrance, and you might be the one to say, “Come. You can approach with confidence. You are welcome here.”
The passage urges us not to neglect gathering together but to “encourage one another.” Notice that encouragement isn’t about cheerful platitudes or superficial positivity. The Greek word literally means “to call alongside”—to draw near to someone in their struggle and walk with them. This is incarnational love, Jesus-love, the kind that doesn’t keep its distance from pain but moves toward it with compassion.
As you grow in intimacy with your Trinitarian God, you’re growing in the art of this kind of presence. You’re learning from Jesus how to see people—really see them—not as projects to fix or obstacles to navigate, but as beloved souls standing at the threshold of the sanctuary. You’re learning from the Spirit how to rouse others to love, not by guilt or pressure, but by seeing the goodness already in them and calling it forth. You’re learning from the Father what it means to hold space for another person with unwavering faithfulness, just as “he who made the promise is trustworthy.”
The deeper call to surrender and trust, then, is both inward and outward. It’s the daily choice to approach God’s presence with authenticity, to hold unwaveringly to hope even when circumstances suggest otherwise, to let yourself be held and known and loved. And it’s the daily choice to become, for others, a sign of that same welcome—to live in such a way that your very presence says, “The sanctuary is open. The way has been made. Come with confidence.”
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Sharing
Jesus last words on Earth were to his disciples, can be found in Matthew Chap 28 when Jesus told his disciples, “Then Jesus approached and said to them, “All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”
Jesus calls all of us to share in his redemptive mission here on Earth. I would ask you to share this Scripture reflection with your family, your friends and your acquaintances, and then share it with a couple of individuals that you may may not be comfortable sharing with, keeping in mind always the words of Jesus, And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age
Author was assisted by AI in the drafting of this Post