We reach for God in many ways. Through our sculptures and our scriptures. Through our pictures and our prayers. Through our writing and our worship. And through them He reaches for us.
His search begins with something said. Ours begins with something heard. He begins with something shown. Ours, with something seen. Our search for God and His search for us meet at windows in our everyday experience.
These are the windows of the soul.
In a sense, it is something like spiritual disciplines for the spiritually undisciplined. In another sense, it is the most rigorous of disciplines—the discipline of awareness. For we must always be looking and listening if we are to see the windows and hear what is being spoken to us through them.
But we must learn to look with more than just our eyes and listen with more than just our ears, for the sounds are sometimes faint and the sights sometimes far away. We must be aware, at all times and in all places, because windows are everywhere, and at any time we may find one.
Or one may find us. Though we hardly know it… Unless we are searching for Him who for so long has been searching for us.
This summer, throw open some windows to let the fresh air of God’s love and truth into your soul.
When you open your Bible, you’re opening a window, perhaps the most important one of all. You can travel through time into ancient battles or forward in time into our glorious hope. Or sit in a story that Jesus brings home in the now. Powerful.
When you pray—and listen—and keep doing it—you’re opening a window. God will speak. Whisper. Or shout. Or give. But he’s there.
When you worship God through a song that moves you, that mobile device becomes a window through which you can behold his glory. Celebrating our smallness can be one of the most refreshing experiences this world has to offer.
When you sit by the lake and let the breeze waft over you, that’s a window. Drink in the goodness, frame the moment with praise or wonder or questions or peace.
The birds have a message for you too. So do the rocks and rustling trees. And your children lost in play. And the stranger on the C-Train. And maybe a ladybug or two.
Be awake. Be aware. Be loved by the God who is always speaking.
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