Thank you, God, for pictures.
At first, I meant that in the simplest way. But then I walked into the church sanctuary and saw the stained glass, glowing with the light of the sun, and I realized—it’s more than just pictures. It’s the way light, God, transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary.
This doesn’t just happen in photographs. It happens in art. It happens in stained glass. It even happens in something as simple as a picture on a calendar that unexpectedly catches my attention. And more than that, it happens in life.
The beauty of Your creation, God, is constantly unfolding around us. Maybe that’s why we reach for the camera—to hold onto it just a little longer. Maybe that’s why artists try to capture it with paint or pencil. When we see something truly beautiful, we want to remember. We want to share it.
It is in the sharing of these moments by others that keeps me on social media. I would love to step away from Facebook and other platforms, but I love the pictures. Sure, I could find them elsewhere, but in some way, amateur photography captures beauty more purely. Maybe I feel this way because I know some of the tricks photographers use—beyond Photoshop. Whether it’s special filters for a camera or carrying a spray bottle to mimic the perfect morning dew on flowers, there are ways to enhance an image.
Yet, the most special moments—the ones that truly move us—point to God. This is why stained glass fits so perfectly into this reflection. In the Protestant church, there has long been (and perhaps still is) debate over icons. The short definition of an icon is a sacred image, but the discussion gets complicated. A sacred image of God is mostly accepted, while a sacred image of a saint is sometimes questioned. Why? Because of concerns over worshiping the wrong thing. At times, stained glass has been pulled into this iconography debate and at times churches become more concerned with the building or stained glass than they are with following God (we are silly humans).
But as far as I’m concerned, stained glass isn’t part of the debate. Stained glass, being slightly opaque, not only draws our attention toward something beautiful but also invites us to look beyond—to the beauty of God. It is most beautiful when it is backlit, when light reveals its depth. The sun can backlight stained glass. The moon can backlight it. And every day of the year, it offers a different view. Stained glass is ever-changing, yet always pointing us toward the hope and beauty of God.
Thank you, God, for the gift of seeing beauty—and for the ways we try, however imperfectly, to reflect it.
Where have you been reminded that God is present? Art, pictures, real life eye pictures?
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