I never liked the saying: “Whenever God closes a door, He opens a window.”
What good is an open window, compared to a door?
What are you supposed to do? Climb out the window?
Shows my faulty driven thinking—all about going, doing, accomplishing things. Finally I think I’m seeing that sitting by an open window gains more, most often, than rushing through an open door.
Through open door, the view gravity-pulls earthward. I notice paving stones and porch steps, open lawn and driveway, sidewalk and roadway. The possibilities beyond, the “next steps,” beckon. The door’s ajar, cajoling.
But by an open window, I more likely come to rest. Then, gazing out, my vision runways to soar beyond this earth. The view angles me, up, up, to meet heaven’s light rays angling down. I breathe in instead of rushing out. My heart refuels.
Yet, foolish sheep wanting a run, I still mourn closed doors sometimes, grieve through open windows. Till a dove of peace flies in, lights gently on my shoulder, says be still, look up, behold what great things God has done.
That’s it. Too much I want to look and see what great things I have done. Want to go rush out and do some more.
I do nothing, it turns out, when I read the tally. God does all. If I don’t see that, all I am is animal bounding, aimed earthly. And a prideful animal is such a foolish thing!
And Heaven disappears.
“Stand still, and see [what] the LORD… will accomplish,” He says (Exd 14:13). “Be still and know that I am God” (Ps 46:10). “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you” (Jas 4:8).
Daniel inhaled power by the window (Dan 6:10), and so, later on, could exhale faith.
So now I make my way to the window, and sing in softened solitude,