Made of Glass

Stained glass windows have been a trademark feature in many Christian churches the world over for centuries. I've long admired the use of these windows to not only permit colorful light to enter the spaces they adorn but to also edify observers through their visual representation of the rich history of the Christian faith and their renderings of glimpses into the life to come. It's amazing how such a delicate medium can convey such a profound subject. Take, for instance, the gorgeous windows of the Sainte-Chapelle ("Holy Chapel") in Paris, France (more pictures can be found here)...

Sainte-Chapelle, Paris, France

Human beings, I find, are very much like stained glass. For starters, we're all fragile. We crack - sometimes we shatter - when we experience difficulty, anxiety, loss. The weight of our burdens can overbear us. People rarely like to admit to it but we all have our breaking points, though naturally individuals have differing tolerances for life's stressors. (The materials scientist in me can't help but draw analogies to properties of substances used in assessing mechanical failure.) Moreover, the shards of ourselves can harm others when our fragmented souls exhibit too many sharp edges. How blessed we are to have a God Who can take our fragments and create something magnificent...

Stained glass allows light to pass through its painted panes. In a metaphysical sense, the same is true of people when they are open to God's radiant love. We each have our stories. Our hopes, dreams, desires, fears, emotions - these all are shaped by our experiences and reside within our hearts. In our everyday affairs we typically regulate our self-expression, usually as dictated by the conventions of our circumstances. But when the Spirit of life and light impinges upon us and permeates our being, the kaleidoscope of colors that give form to our souls shines forth and reveals our innermost, fullest identities. We sometimes say a strikingly perceptive individual can "see right through us." Imagine, if you can, how deeply discerning is the Eye that sees straight to our very cores.

Most artistically, the Father, through the workings of His mercy, is able to collect the colored shards we offer Him and arrange them in a divine mosaic. But He does more than simply reconstruct our broken selves. Better yet, He mingles our fragments with those of our neighbors. Every interaction - every shared experience - brings us in closer communion with one another and to a better awareness of ourselves as we exchange our joys and sorrows. After all, is it not true that mosaics crafted by mortal hands are the products of many different pieces? In effect, the Father intertwines our lives in a flawless - if poorly understood - pattern that only a true master of an artist can achieve.

The essence of this beautiful fragility is aptly captured in Red's "Pieces." (Have I mentioned I've drawn a lot of inspiration from their art? Never fear, I will make use of other musicians' work.)

 

I'll leave you with this: When we are honest about our weaknesses and submit to the love of God, He brings forth perfection from our imperfections (2 Cor 12:9-10). He alone can take our "scattered pieces" and "make [us] whole."