"Through a Glass Darkly"

A Meditation on 1 Corinthians 13:12

“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.”
—1 Corinthians 13:12 (KJV)

St. Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 13:12 are among the most poetic and mysterious in the New Testament. Nestled within his magnificent hymn of love, this verse captures both the present limitations of our knowledge and the breathtaking promise of our future in Christ. For the Anglican soul—shaped by Scripture, Sacrament, and a reverent humility before divine mystery—this verse invites us into deep reflection.

The “Glass” of This Present Life

The Apostle Paul writes of seeing "through a glass, darkly." The Greek word for “glass” (esoptron) likely referred to a polished bronze mirror—far less clear than our modern glass mirrors. Paul is describing our spiritual vision in this present age as partial, clouded, and imperfect. We see something of God, of truth, of love, but never the whole. Our theology is real but incomplete; our experience of grace is authentic but only a foretaste.

This resonates profoundly within Anglicanism’s via media—the middle way. We do not claim absolute certainty on every doctrine, nor do we abandon the pursuit of truth. Instead, we recognize that now, in this life, we “know in part.” Our liturgy reflects this humility: it lifts our hearts to heaven but always with reverence, awe, and the recognition that God is beyond full comprehension.

Face to Face: The Hope of Fulfillment

“But then face to face.” Here, Paul looks forward to the eschaton—the consummation of all things, when Christ returns and all is made new. The Beatific Vision, as the tradition calls it, is not the seeing of God with physical eyes, but the unmediated and perfect communion of the soul with the Divine. This is not merely intellectual understanding but intimate knowledge—epignosis—and it is the fulfillment of every longing of the human heart.

For the Christian, this is not a vague hope. It is anchored in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, the One who is both the mirror and the revelation of God’s glory. In Him, the veil is lifted. In Him, we shall see clearly, know fully, and love perfectly.

Known by God

“Then shall I know even as also I am known.” These words are among the most comforting in all of Scripture. God knows us already—completely, intimately, and with perfect love. He knows our sins, our wounds, our hopes, and our true name. To be known in such a way is the beginning of healing. And Paul assures us that the day will come when we shall know God with that same depth—not because we ascend to divinity, but because Love will complete what Love began.

The Anglican tradition, steeped in the Psalms and in sacramental worship, has always cultivated this sense of being known by God. Our prayers—like the Collect for Purity—begin by acknowledging that God sees into the very hearts of His people: “Almighty God, unto whom all hearts be open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid…” It is in being known that we are drawn into the mystery of love that will one day be fully revealed.

Living in the In-Between

Until that day comes, we live in the tension between the “now” and the “then.” Our mirrors are still dim, and yet we are not without light. We walk by faith and not by sight, but we walk nonetheless. The sacraments, the Scriptures, the communion of saints—these are the means by which the veil is lifted just a little more, week by week.

In this Lenten season (or whatever season is current), as we await the fullness of Easter joy, let us remember that all our efforts—our prayers, our works of mercy, our worship—are glimpses of a greater glory yet to come. We love now, partially and imperfectly, but then we shall love as we are loved—totally and forever.

Thanks be to God.