Through A Glass Darkly

Seeing God's beauty - and our won - through the stained glass

By James A. Hughes

At ten o’clock in the morning, the sunlight streaming through the cathedral’s stained glass windows fills the east side of the space with kaleidoscopic brilliance. Everywhere I look, there are shades of scarlet, cobalt, gold, lavender, emerald, and aqua illuminating tiled floors and smoothly polished columns, gracing them with glittering embellishments. Standing in the midst of this radiance, I find myself echoing the words of the psalmist who proclaimed, “Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised . . . Splendor and majesty are before Him, strength and beauty are in His sanctuary” (Ps. 96:4, 6).

I wander down the aisles and around the pews, savoring the sights before me. Every windowpane in the expansive room tells a vivid story. In one, Jesus sits at a well, gesturing towards the Samaritan woman’s earthen jar that cannot contain the living water He offers. In the next, the Messiah looks upward as three men lower a fourth—a paralytic in need of healing—through the roof. And in another, He glances down with love at the woman whose faith assured her, “If I only touch His garment, I will get well” (Matt. 9:21).

For some reason, however, I’m repeatedly drawn back to the image of the annunciation and linger before it longer than I do others. In this panel, Mary, clad in pale shades of rose and teal, is a picture of tenderness and vulnerability, especially when contrasted with the angel Gabriel hovering above her, his angular wings aflame. One of his hands rests above her forehead in comfort while the other is raised in blessing—the words “blessed art thou among women” suspended on his lips (Luke 1:28 kjv). Mary’s hands also speak volumes, for one is open upwards in praise, while the other is poised over her belly, already having accepted the proclamation and protecting the womb that will shelter the long-awaited Savior.

This is the moment in which both Mary’s future and ours were forever changed by the Father’s ultimate act of love. There is nothing nearby that describes the scene to onlookers, yet it speaks to me as clearly as if the narrative were written on the wall. It is a lesson meant to be experienced with the eyes as well as the soul.

This clarity and enlightenment was what Abbot Suger, the 12th-century clergyman, had in mind when he began the renovation of Saint Denis, his abbey church near Paris. Suger was an advocate of anagogicus mos, or “The Upward Leading Method,” and believed that light was a divine force that could compel a person to transcend the material world and better understand the very nature of God. As a result, he incorporated flying buttresses, arches that supported the church’s soaring rooftop. They allowed for taller, thinner walls with increased space for windows. The combination of high ceilings and boundless light filtering through the colored glass drew parishioners’ eyes heavenward. This made it possible for everyone to experience the splendor of God in a tangible way. Also, the windows served another purpose—to communicate the Word to illiterate parishioners, which is why some refer to stained glass as “The Poor Man’s Bible.”

Even now, in our modern world where towering structures dominate the skyline and light can be manufactured, stained glass maintains the power to captivate. Perhaps it’s because these breathtaking works bear the indelible fingerprints of God. The artisans whose skills are God-given create masterpieces with fire and iron, using only sand, soda, limestone, oxides, and salts, none of which are man-made. Therefore, glass attests to the truth of Revelation 4:11: “Worthy are You, our Lord and our God, to receive glory and honor and power, for You created all things, and because of Your will they existed, and were created.”

However, no matter how intricate the designs are, how accurate the depictions in these fragile works might be, or how long they were lovingly labored over by craftsmen, without one essential factor, they remain dull and lifeless. Without light, the first creation of the almighty God, our works are left as half-formed as Quasimodo, the famous hunchback of Notre Dame—another cathedral in Paris. And only God can provide the light, the divine illumination that can release the colors within the glass.
For the Christian, these windows are even more compelling because we recognize that, like us, they were thoughtfully created. Unlike darkness and light, the sky and seas, and all moving creatures, only we are made in the image of God according to His likeness (Gen 1:26). For that reason, we are the most precious of all His handiwork.

Because of this, we have been given the ability and desire to create as well. For example, God brought the animals to Adam “to see what he would call them” and agreed, “whatever the man called a living creature, that was its name” (Gen. 2:19). In essence, the first task given to man was artistic! After all, to name something is to grant it uniqueness. This creative process requires intelligence, keen perception, and a sense of logic and order to be done effectively—all of which are dispensations of the Father. That process was perhaps also edifying: by examining the menagerie brought before him, Adam could begin to grasp the infinite artistic power of God.

We continue this pursuit of under-standing today through the creation of divinely inspired, beautiful things. As Romans 1:20 states, “For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen.” Therefore, we can craft works of art and use them to praise God, drawing inspiration from His own creative work in the natural world around us.
Likewise, we understand that, just as the window is strengthened and perfected by heat and pressure, we are also purified through trials in order to be made more Christlike (1 Peter 1:6-9). And as with that gorgeous glass, light shines through us—the light of Christ, which compels the lost to flee darkness and seek the truth of the Lord. The apostle Paul spoke to this idea when he said of believers, “For God, who said, ‘Light shall shine out of darkness,’ is the One who has shone in our hearts to give the Light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves” (2 Cor. 4:6-7).
One thing, however, is certain. As beautiful as stained glass might be, it also reveals just how inadequate our power to present His glory is and how limited our understanding while we reside in the flesh. In truth, our multi-hued masterpieces undoubtedly appear to God the way a child’s finger-paintings do to an adoring parent—paltry when compared to His unending glory, but valuable for their sincerity.

Yet, praise God, there will come a day when we no longer need to rely on crude tools and materials for comprehension, because we’ll be in the presence of the Master Craftsman. For now, “we know in part and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away . . . For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face” (1 Cor. 13: 9-10, 12 KJV). Yes, there’ll come a day when His flawless light will no longer be obscured by sin.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
from Intouch magazine, February 2012 issue