I sat in my living room with an old friend one night in November, catching up and recalling the last several months of my life. It had been a long year. My heart was weary and my hope was tired, but as we talked there was something healing in our conversation.
There was a light shed on the path I’d just been walking, and there behind me were the footprints of my two companions along the way — Goodness and Mercy. Always following close behind. Sometimes it’s easy to be so consumed by the wilderness that we tend to miss the treasures hidden for us along the way.
As I sat in my living room on that rainy night in November, counting the treasure I’d found on my life’s bumpy road this year, there was a sense that I didn’t want to miss those treasures in the road ahead of me. There was a reminder that there is something for me here.
You are a skeleton cathedral of nerve, spirit and muscle.
The shattered pieces of your laid down dreams
rearranged into mosaic stained-glass
catching and casting light in beautifully imperfect harmony for all the world to see.
For the smallest light in the darkest and driest of valleys can be blindingly bright.
A skeleton cathedral — you and me. And all the shattered pieces of our stories, the dead ended dreams and the thwarted expectations, they are still a part of the story. Somehow God, in all of his kindness, takes the broken pieces and he makes something beautiful out of them. Beautifully imperfect harmony — the pieces of your story and mine — catching and casting light for all the world to see. Shedding a blinding light (HIS light) into the darkest and driest of valleys.
So here we stand in December, looking back at a year full of broken pieces. With a valley of yesterdays at our backs and a mountain of tomorrows at our feet, we are faced with a choice: will yesterday’s disappointment be tomorrow’s hindrance or tomorrow’s hope?
What if we took this month to remember the broken pieces, and what if in that remembrance, He began to rearrange them into something beautiful? What if we started looking at the hard places in our stories as the most important ones? Isn’t that where intimacy with our Creator is forged?
So this month, I want to wave a banner of hope over shattered dreams and thwarted expectations. I want to ring in a 2015 that recognizes 2014 as a necessary building block for what’s to come. I want to illuminate the gold found from being willing to dig through the dirt. I want to invite you into a Stained Glass December.
I’ll share some of my stories, but I’ve also invited several of my friends in to share some of theirs. They are some of the bravest and most brilliant souls I know. I hope you’ll follow along this month, and I pray that along the way you begin to see your own stained glass being formed. Catching and casting light for all the world to see. You were made for that kind of brilliance.