The Window of Hope

This picture is of the stained-glass window I mentioned in my story in today’s meditation. Our congregation has since moved on, and that church building is now a daycare center, so I’m thankful that I have this picture to remind me of its beauty.

Did you know stained glass windows like this one weren’t just designed to be beautiful? They were designed to deliver a message to believers, telling a story to those who could not read through their pictures and the light shining through their colors. Yes, each of those colors carries meaning, telling a story through light. According to many interpretations, blue speaks of wisdom and heaven, red of love and sacrifice, gold of God’s goodness, green of hope, white of peace, and purple of both suffering and royalty.

I remember the late fall light pouring through blues and reds, casting quiet color across the room. In the center stood Jesus holding a lamb, with the other sheep following behind him. For me, in that season, the picture in that window delivered the message I needed most of all. That image of Jesus carrying the lamb gave me hope that he was with me, caring for me, even through my tears.

But my Sunday mornings with that window weren’t enough to carry me through the week. I need to spend time in my Bible too. During that time of my life, I spent a lot of time in books like Job, the Psalms, and Lamentations. Those tear-stained pages became a place where I could sit honestly before our caring Papa God, who never rushed me toward hope but kept loving me so I kept showing up. Slowly, in small almost unnoticed ways, something began to shift as healing came.

Looking back now, I see the Lord wasn’t just healing me—God was preparing me to comfort others, just as he had comforted me.

Seven years into my grief journey, a friend reached out. She was losing her sister to cancer and asked if I knew any scripture that might help. Without hesitation, I thought of Lamentations 3—one of the passages that had carried me. The same comfort I had received, I could now share with her.

I still keep this picture of that stained-glass window because it reminds me of truth, of hope, and of meaning. Sitting in that church years ago, I didn’t realize I was being shaped by what I saw and experienced there—the window and the presence of others who had walked through their own grief and were willing to carry me by sharing their stories and their hope. Even though we no longer have church services in that sanctuary with that window, it still stands as a reminder—both of God’s divine presence, offering hope to all who grieve, and of the lesson that God also equips us to carry one another.