Set wide the window. Let me drink the day.  Edith Wharton

My wife loves open windows. If she had it her way, she would have our windows open year-round, rain or shine. It’s about the fresh air. I’m thinking about the NPR program, “Fresh Air” and what a great title that is. Open windows let in fresh air.

Maybe that’s in part why Marti came up with the phrase, “Jesus comes in through the window.” It’s freeing and it’s fresh when Christ comes into your life. But it’s also something of a surprise, somewhat unorthodox — a little unexpected. He could have used the door, but He comes in through the window.

Jesus told the woman at the well that those who worship God must worship Him in Spirit and in truth. Truth is the solid stuff about Jesus that is grounded in verifiable history and biblical accounts. It’s all about foundations and rootedness. He occupied a place on this planet in time and space. What we know about Him has been recorded. If you want to be sure about it, you can find out. All this stuff is truth and it comes in through the front door with its feet on the ground.

But the Spirit is different. The Spirit is unpredictable, like the wind. You don’t know where it comes from or where it’s going, but you see its effects. It blows in through the open window. Unlike the thief climbing in, or the son or daughter who forgot their key and tumbles in head-first, the Spirit only needs to blow, and the window only needs to be open.

The window is for fresh air; the door is to go in and out. In a pandemic, the doors to the outside are used less and less. In lockdown, doors remain closed. We go in and out only if we have to to get supplies. Rarely does anyone come in the door who is not part of the family. But no one said anything about windows. Keep that window open; you never know what might blow in.