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Friday, March 22, 2013

We Are Like Windows.


The room was dark. With a darkness that was so dark, they could breathe it in. It smelled like it had been dark for longer than anyone could remember. It's hard to know what to do with blackness like that. If you stare into it for long enough, your eyes will adjust; you will begin to see shadows and shapes of the things around you. But no matter how long you wait --- even a lifetime --- you will never see the color.

She walked over to the window, bare feet stirring up the dust of age and gloom, and pulled open a curtain. Sunlight poured in, as if it was liquid; thick and golden. Bright sheets, reaching for the darkness, warming her toes, her face, her hair.

       "Come on," she said. "Help me let the light in."

He drew back the other dusty curtain and let his face bathe in the light. The entire house sparkled now. The beams searched out every corner with stretching fingers, and lit it up. Swirling bits of dust danced in the shafts of sunshine.

They soaked up the brilliance. They breathed in the light. And it was so good.

"We are like windows," Keith Green wrote. "Stained with colors of the rainbow, set in a darkened room till the Bridegroom comes to shine through."

One small window was enough to let the Light in. And that small brightness was enough to chase the shadows of a darkened place.


Be that window.

~allie








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