stained glass windows
I think that stained glass windows might just be my favorite things to ever exist.
The glass is broken into different shapes that are needed for the pieces. Someone then takes the time to organize the delicate pieces into a design that is pleasing to the eye, then mends them together.
However, I think the best part of it all is when the sunlight comes through. The multicolored glass bends the light that bleeds through from the outdoors. It casts the colors onto the walls. The floor, the bedsheets, and people within.
You watch people twist their hands beneath the light as though they are the ones bending it. It’s as though the light that comes from stained glass is warmer. More homey. I don't think there is a thing in the world that could compare to the enchantment stained glass holds on the world.
Yet, I wonder where in the world it has gone. Window panes are crystal clear. The rainbows no longer bleed over into the dining rooms. The glass no longer tells a story. Something so simple. Something as mundane as glass no longer tells a story.
Now, I am not sure why stained glass was created. There’s no way for me to go back and ask the Ancient Egyptians what made them create it. But everyone knew it was beautiful. In the 7th century, it was put into churches and monasteries.
The sunlight beams through, refracting through the various hues onto the pues below. Ornate depictions of the Gospel flood the congregations with a wave of rainbow light. A sweet reminder of the faithfulness of the God we serve. A reminder of the covenant (Genesis 9) between Him and us. A promise to prosper and propel us forward. A promise to hold us in the palm of His hand forever. A reminder of the ways He has sustained us. A small prism of light is a beacon of hope for us. A reminder that He loves us and calls us His. A reminder that He is the same God that chose us then, chose us today, and will choose us tomorrow. A beam of light going through water droplets reminds the King of Kings of us. Of His love for us. And His promise to us. It is mutual. Such an awesome God we serve. Revealing Himself in something as mundane as glass. What an awesome God.
I think that is why stained glass feels like home. Why, when we see it, we stop and take pictures. We sit and admire the intricacies of the artist’s handiwork. We sit beneath the rainbow, allowing it to penetrate the depth of our souls. We allow it to echo through our minds even hours after. We sit and watch as it bounces off of the people we love. Their eyelashes. Their skin. Their clothes and their smiles. Our own hands twisting in the light in admiration.
Oh to sit beneath stained glass forever. Under a constant reminder of the Lord’s love for me and for His creation. That, for me, is the hem of His garment.
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