Blinded by the Cross
"It makes my eyes hurt," said one member. "I can't see the pastor or the choir," said others. "I wonder how many visitors are turned off and don't return because of this," spoke the pastor as he turned toward the huge stained glass window in the shape of a cross. "The motion has been seconded and the 'ayes' have it." said the pastor. "We will find a way to filter out the glare from the window."
I sighed as I looked up at the magnificent cross that covered the wall of the sanctuary behind the pulpit. No, I did not fight against changing the window. The decision would be what the majority wanted anyway and I was not in the majority.
The first thing I saw when I entered into this church building was the cross. It was beautiful. I purposely sat in the area where the light glared. I loved to look to the front of the church and not see the pastor or the choir but only the cross blinding me. I wanted to be blinded by the cross. When I would stop and talk to people I would see the reflection of the cross in their eyes. You just could not say anything unkind when you see the cross in the eyes of others. You could not hide from the cross.
As I came into the sanctuary several days after the business meeting the room appeared dim. A plastic coating had been applied to the cross. The glare was gone. As I looked around the sanctuary I saw things that I had never noticed before. I noticed places where the walls needed to be repainted. I saw the dust on the light fixtures and the dirty corners where the walls reached up to the ceiling. I was able to see my friends faces more clearly. I no longer saw the cross but I saw the imperfections that had been hidden by the glare.
I thought about the places in the Bible where God is compared to light. I thought about Moses as he was blinded when he got to see God as He passed by. I also thought about bringing a sweater for there was now a chill in the once warm spot. How strange that a simple window could say so much. Our imperfections can't be seen because of the Cross. How many times do we filter God's light so we can be comfortable?
-by Brenda Wiggleton