STAINED GLASS

STAINED GLASS
- originally posted March 30, 2011

Last weekend, I was blessed to attend a women's retreat at Riveroaks Reformed Presbyterian Church. This was a wonderful, fast-paced time of fellowship and study with my sisters from Grace and ladies from other churches in our presbytery. While waiting for one of our sessions to begin, I enjoyed studying the beautiful stained glass window above the pulpit area at the front of the sanctuary. The colors and the detail were gorgeous, a song of worship set in glass, illuminated even on a gray day by the light of the cloud-shrouded sun.

On the sleepy drive back to Obion County Saturday afternoon, I considered that my life - our lives as believers - are not unlike that stained glass window. Bits and pieces of color and light, carefully fitted together into a God-glorifying work of art.

I had recently been thinking about how life is full of unexpected, unimaginable joys and disappointments. Thirty years ago, I could have in no way predicted the path my life would take. As a young high-school graduate, my course was set: I was going to college, first for an undergraduate degree and then for a degree in veterinary medicine. I was going to establish a practice as a vet, specializing in large animal care. At some point, I would marry, and then maybe have two or three kids. La, la, la, la....

Anyone who knows me knows that none of the above actually happened. My life took a very different course. Along that new path - the one I hadn't planned for - God brought me incredible blessings and joys that I could not have even imagined for myself.

He also brought - and brought me through - tremendous heartache. It's as if, on a handful of occasions, He completely shattered my heart. Allowed it to be splintered into a thousand pieces. But, those heartbreaks are being redeemed. I was thinking Saturday, that it's like He's slowly taking the broken pieces and fitting them together into a living portrait of His grace, something even more glorious than that brilliant window in the sanctuary at Riveroaks.

Back home, I thought it would be interesting to do a little research on how stained glass windows are made. And this is where it really gets good...

The glass used in these magnificent windows is not made of bits and pieces of "accidents," broken chips swept up to be recycled. No, the glass is created specifically for each window. First, an artist designs the window. Then, glass blowers painstakingly create the varieties of glass needed, in exactly the colors and weights specified by the artist. The window-maker carefully cuts each piece of glass according to his pattern, and then grinds it to fit precisely into his design. When each piece - created, shaped, and fitted together with incredible care and precision, from beginning to end - is finally in place, the window maker "sets" the glass so that it is strong and structurally sound. Not only are these windows beautiful, they are extremely heavy - but, by the wisdom of their creator, they are designed to support tremendous weight.

God is not about the business of having accidents and then scrambling to clean them up into something that looks intentional. It's not as if He goes, Oooops! I made a mistake. I'm so sorry you're disappointed. - or - I'm so sorry your heart is broken. I didn't mean for that to happen. I will try to find a way to make it better somehow. No, God is not in the business of gluing together broken pieces of the ball He dropped, the fragile pieces of my heart.

Because God never drops the ball.

Rather, God has a plan and a design from the very beginning, from before the foundation of the earth.  And every single thing that comes into my life - from the joy of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7! children, to the grief of shattered relationships - every single thing is a carefully planned and orchestrated part of His design and purpose to create in me a work of art that displays His glory and beauty to the world around me.

The fire of the glass oven is not an inconvenient consequence of the art of stained glass - it's the deliberate, carefully heated, closely monitored birthplace of something glorious.

TOO MUCH LASAGNA

Thirty years ago, if you'd walked into my house late one afternoon and told me, "You need to prepare dinner for 15 people tonight," I'd have freaked out. Feed fifteen people at the drop of a hat? You've got to be kidding!

But if you cook for two, then add a couple more, and then a couple more, building up your cooking muscles gradually over time, cooking for 15 becomes no big deal. Pretty easy peasy, actually.

When your family starts shrinking, when those chickadees grow up and fly away from the nest, that presents another set of challenges for a cook.

After years of preparing meals daily for seven or nine or fifteen or twenty people (Friends are always welcome!), I am having now to learn to cook for only two.

And it is freaking me out.

On tonight's menu: lasagna.

My recipe makes two 9" x 13" pans of lasagna. Used to, when everyone sat down to dinner, we ate both pans. But even one 9" x 13" pan of lasagna is too much lasagna for Helen and me.

Don't get me wrong: Helen and I like lasagna...we just don't like it THAT much. Not enough to eat it for lunch and dinner EVERY SINGLE DAY THIS WEEK.

Tonight, I divided my recipe into three smaller pans. Even after putting more than half of the lasagna in the freezer, and even after inviting company over to help eat the pan of lasagna that is now baking in the oven, there is still TOO MUCH LASAGNA. We will be eating leftovers for days.

So, here's a question for you sweet people:

What tips do you have for cooking for two?

YESTERDAY MORNING

Yesterday morning began with tears.

Life for me is generally a bit of a mess, but in one particular area, I am extraordinarily broken. And in that area, it seems that lately, day by day, I grow noticeably weaker, more vulnerable.

It's like God is removing my outer defenses. The last buffer. The remaining sea wall that holds back inundation.

Like He has issued the command: "All shields down."

The storm had been building for several days. Yesterday, the storm broke.

Before, I have felt utterly broken. Yesterday morning, I felt broken and exposed.

* * *

Yesterday morning began with tears. But tears or no, the need still stood before me to do the next thing, and the next. So I sat down yesterday morning to do the day's assignment for my Romans study group:

Read Romans 5:3-5.

I read...

"More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." - Romans 5:3-5

God could not have spoken with greater precision into the need of my heart.

After answering the homework questions about the Romans passage, I pulled out my daily Bible reading schedule. The schedule I'm not actually following. I don't even know if I'm behind or ahead - I gave up looking at the dates months ago.

Yesterday's New Testament reading: 1 John 2. Christ is my advocate. Abide. Abide. Abide. The word kept popping up over and over. I read the chapter a second time. Abide. Abide. Abide in him.

SUCH precision.

Then, I flipped over to the day's psalm, Psalm 138:

"I give you thanks, O LORD, with my whole heart...for you have exalted above all things your name and your word. On the day I called, you answered me; my strength of soul increased.

"For though the LORD is high, he regards the lowly...

"Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my live...

"The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O LORD, endures forever."

Such sweet, life-giving precision.

* * *

Yesterday began with tears, but it did not end there.

I can rejoice in suffering, because God's love has been poured out on me.

The Lord WILL fulfill his purpose for me.

His steadfast love toward me endures forever.

And reminded of these truths, my strength of soul increased.

* * *

"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes..." - Rvelation 21:4a

He has begun already.

REST

As the sun slips closer to the western horizon and a soft gold filters across the hay field in front of the house

The busy chatter of songbirds drifts across the yard from the woods behind the house, weaving melody around the rustle-music of wind-tossed leaves

From somewhere behind me, a cow bellows; a crow replies

The gray kitten twists herself around and around my legs, passive petting, her purr outsizing her tiny body

And sitting here on the porch swing, it is almost possible for me to imagine that all is right in the world

I can almost imagine, for the briefest moment, that no one is hurting, no one is broken, no one is dying

Like suffering itself has been forced to pause, to inhale, to catch its breath

And in this small quiet moment

There is rest

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

"I hope I get a letter today. Do you think there will be anything in the mail for me today?"

Less than a week ago, letters were the currency of highest value at our house. A small white envelope in the mailbox transformed the dreariest day into an occasion to celebrate. A certain return address, a particular handwriting...these things wielded more power than sunshine.

But letter value plummeted this past weekend. Monday and Tuesday, there were no anxious, eager rushes to the mailbox at my house. No text messages from campus: "Anything in the mail today?" No bright smile and eager stampede up the stairs, treasure in hand, when the answer was Yes. No sad sigh - "Well, maybe tomorrow..." - when the answer was No.

Why did letter currency depreciate in value so drastically, so suddenly? What happened?

I'll tell you what happened. The name above the return address...that young man came home.

The sparkling eyes and bright smiles are no longer reserved for words written on paper. They are lavished with joyful extravagance on the actual person, the real thing, standing right here in the flesh.

We all love getting letters in the mail, don't we? Real letters, written by hand, by a real person, addressed especially to us, with love and tender affection.

As I watched the value of written letters plummet on the stock market exchange of relationship this weekend, I thought...

This is how we live as believers, is it not?, as we come daily to God's written Word, eager to read what He has written, especially for us, in love.

At least, I think this is how we should feel about God's Word, this beautiful, intimate letter written especially for His beloved, for us, for me.

As I witnessed a sweet reunion this weekend, I thought...

If my countenance does not now brighten at a letter from my Beloved, how will I respond when I see Jesus face to face? If I do not now delight in His words, will I then delight in His person?

But if I DO delight in His written Word today, if I read each word with eager anticipation, how very sweet must be the moment when I at long last stand before my Savior and behold Him in the flesh - see Him, hear Him, touch Him! I sometimes think my heart cannot bear the magnitude of such joy. Oh, how I long for that day!

Well, from all appearances, today is not that day of sweet reunion. Today is not the day I get to see Jesus face to face. But, guess what...

Today, Yes!, I have a letter!

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. - Hebrews 11:1

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then, I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. - 1 Corinthians 13:12