On my walks I look at houses. And in particular I look at windows. I like a lot of light, so I like a lot of windows. When I see a house with very few windows I am baffled. What were they thinking? Does it cost so much more to cut a hole in the wood or stone that it is worth plunging the occupants into darkness for the next 200 years? (By the way, did you know that a couple of centuries ago Great Britain used to tax people on the number of windows?)
This morning I passed by a house with a long windowless wall facing southeast. The sun was beating on that wall but it did the people inside no good. I felt bad for the family who lived there.
Then I noticed a house with adequate windows on a southern exposure, but they had their blinds shut, which puzzled me to no end, and made me feel less bad for the window-deprived neighbors because I started to think there may be people who don’t like the sun.
I pondered that the grace of God is a lot like the sun, and our souls like windows. The grace of God streams down in rays on all men:
“For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust” (Matthew 5:45).
But grace does not result in the salvation of all men because all men do not receive it. They have pulled their shutters tight and hung up a “Do Not Disturb” sign:
“… the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil” (John 3:20).
The sun continues to shine on us Christians, too, even after those first strong rays that brought us out of the kingdom of darkness (1 Peter 2:9). It shines hourly on our present situation and shows us through His Word what the situation looks like to Him, and how to handle it. We must keep the windows of our soul wide open toward Him at all times.
“… Walk while you have the light, lest darkness overtake you. The one who walks in the darkness does not know where he is going. While you have the light, believe in the light, that you may becomes sons of light …” (John 12:35-36).