Looking at stained glass...

I changed the route I drive to work some months ago. I was just getting a little tired of the familiar sights I saw along the way, not to mention the traffic. So, on a day of exploration and hoping that I knew what I was doing, I forged ahead and found another way to go. It's actually maybe just a bit faster and it's just not as out of the way. A good move, I've found.

Well, along that new route, there is a church that I've driven past just about every day. It's an old, at least it looks old, Catholic church called St. Martha's. It's kind of what I would define as a Spanish-style church, red-orange tile roof, crosses upon the high pillars and peaks. It really is lovely. But what has intrigued me for so long is the row of large, tall stained glass windows that look out over the road. I've often sat at the traffic light there, looking along those windows. It's odd though, because the church must be dark when I'm driving by and you really can't see the picture. What you can see are lines and subtle images that give the impression that there's something more there, but what it is, you really can't tell. Some days I'm able to make out an image of the Blessed Mother, another of Christ Himself, and others, well, it just looks like my son's connect-the-dot books.

Seeing this window like this reminds me of what the Apostle Paul talked about when he said we look through a glass and see "darkly", or that we really can't see all that's going on or happening. I know I feel like that much of the time. So many times, it seems like nothing really makes sense or that there's any way we'll really be able to figure out or live this life out we're called to. I mean, come on, I'm a twenty-nine year old college student. Let's talk about needing to figure some things out. But it plays itself out in other areas too. Areas of sin and weakness pervade our hearts and lives many times because we can't see the illuminated picture. Or, perhaps a better way of stating it is that we're not willing to believe that the picture will be as beautiful when it's lit up as we see in our mind.

Not long ago, I worked late at work due to getting behind during the day and found myself driving home back along my "new" path. The sun had taken it's rest and night had fallen. My eyes were blurry with fatigue from the day and Johnny Cash sang in his deep baritone on the CD player, his voice strangely calming as he sang through the lyrics of "Folsom Prison Blues". Then, I pulled to a stop at a familiar traffic light. Turning to my left, I saw, for the first time, the windows of St. Martha's Catholic Church, illuminated, in all their glory. The wonderful hues of color, as only stained glass work can contain, called out to me and their transcendant beauty spoke of something greater, greater than me, you, my work, or anything else. The light changed color and I was forced to leave this wonderful vision.

In the days since, I've tried to remember that vision, to remember that what we see is not always what is there. I want to remember that in the darkness of life, when things seem to make sense one way but God is calling us another, that we can trust that His picture will be greater than we can ever imagine. I've failed in this calling, in bringing this picture back to mind in times of tempation and doubt already, but I have confidence in my Christ's forgiveness and longsuffering with me. We will make me into such a beautiful work.