Yesterday was only the third or fourth Easter since I came to believe in God. I sat in our church overwhelmed with the joy of someone for whom the Good News is still breaking news.
As I looked around the sanctuary, teeming with life and color, the stained glass windows kept catching my eye. The last time I’d seen them was at night, for the Good Friday service, and the way they now exploded with color in the sunlight made them look like something entirely different than the dark, muted windows I’d seen the night before. That contrast sparked the memory of something…I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
When the choir began to sign the now-familiar Communion hymn, I became overwhelmed with gratitude on so many different levels; and as I wiped a tear out of my eye, I realized what was familiar to me about the dazzling windows:
Stained glass is designed for light. To look at a stained glass window in the dark is to miss the artist’s intent. Its true beauty and full meaning cannot be understood without light pouring through it — the more light, the better. Even someone beholding a stained glass window for the first time could see that it was crafted by a loving, intelligent hand, and that the artist’s sole purpose for creating this object was for it to diffuse light.
My life before God, I realized, was like a stained glass window in the dark. Only now that I have found the Light in which it is meant to be viewed, only now that I understand that the very purpose of my existence is to let as much Light pour through it as possible, do I see it as it was designed to be seen. It is only when I allow Light to shine through the stained glass window of my life that can I see its true, glorious beauty.
Be the first to hear about comedy tour cities and dates!
Join my email list and I'll send notes a couple of times per month and will never share your email address.