I love stained glass. I really love anything that takes me into the light. A prism, a color, the way sunlight comes through something and turns it into a whole different creation. But stained glass? Oh my gosh. It gets me.
I was looking around my church on Sunday, thinking that we have some of the most beautiful stained glass windows in all of Charleston. At least, that’s how they feel to me. And the more I looked, the more I realized I wasn’t just looking at beautiful windows. I was looking at stories.
Stories from the Bible. Stories of love, sacrifice, salvation. Things we say out loud in church, sometimes so often that the words can leave our mouths before we’ve really stopped to think about what they mean.
The blood of Christ. The cup of salvation.
We say it. We hear it. But then I look up at a window, and there is this bright, bright red coming through the glass. Something that could feel heavy becomes this color full of passion. It catches my attention. It gets me looking. It gets me thinking.
That’s one of the ways I learn. Through something beautiful that makes me curious enough to stay with it.
I don’t know all the dates or the whole history of stained glass. I just know that when I think about it, I picture old churches and great cathedrals. I think about all the people who have stood beneath those windows, looking up, each bringing their own life into the room.
And then there’s me, sitting in my church in Charleston, having my own little moment with the light.
Anything that embodies love, light, and peace draws me in. And stained glass does all three. It brings me closer to the Holy Spirit. I can be sitting there worshiping and, at the very same time, feel like love is being poured all over me.
Like I’m being blessed right where I am.
There’s something about that light that makes me feel surrounded and supported. It reminds me of the love I associate with God and the angels. That feeling of being encouraged toward my highest self, toward more love, toward more light.
And I love that a window can bring me there. I can look up and find another detail, another color, another part of a story I hadn’t really noticed before.
You walk into a cathedral, and all around you are these stories shining through glass. The sunlight comes in, and suddenly the whole place is putting on this epic light show.
Honestly? It’s fabulous.
Art that tells a story. Light that makes me stop and look. A moment in church when the words I’ve been saying begin to feel a little more alive.
Here’s to looking up.
