Written on July 6, 2016.
Yesterday afternoon I found myself sitting beneath sluices of sunshine while preparing for Tuegather. It was one of those moments a many when so much comes you feel you lived a lifetime in one breath. A slice of time where what you are writing down seems intangible right then until you give a glance and sing a sigh and notice it has become your tangible right now.
And so it was. Having just jotted thoughts and thinkings about the story that would fill the sky in two sundowns, I delighted in the discovery that He (as only He can) had completely cornered me in with the story itself. My pencil had just poured “encircled city” which is one of my favorite parts of our story. In Hebrew, the word is ‘kanaph’ which means “to be hemmed in, protected and held secure.”
The amazing actuality of my moment was that, well, I was. Completely hemmed in. Stone on every side. Before, beside and behind. A wall complete with parapets and purpose. I looked and laughed as I realized how real the story had just become.
About to enter Heaven’s stage is “The Protector”, one of the few Tabernacles that is illustrated exactly. As it shines, we will be rendered and reminded of a place no enemy can enter as Pappa’s people are gathered. A season of days and dots where we rediscover the truth of what life is like when we don’t give the enemy the greatest role in our play. Where his performance is fleeting, a rumored whisper on a strong wind. His part such a bit of the overall portrayal that the swiftness of the stage right and stage left does not impress us more than we are impacted by the very heart of the tale and the Teller.
As I passionately pondered all that could mean, He drew my attention to a hang in the hem, a portion of the protection. Windows. The crown of the kanaph. For protected doesn’t mean trapped. Beauty’s border is not a vault or tomb. Within it are windows that invite us to see what lies beyond, the yet to come.
The windows of our houses are shrouded with glass. But those of our hemmed havens are not. For a window is not designed to remind what we are separated from. They are not scrapbooks filled with picture of what we cannot have. They are openings to our Only.
Walled in wonder, waiting wildly, windows wide let fragrance find us, sound seer us and sight seal us. As we are held, they tempt us to behold what is to come. With childlike chin draped on holy hands of window’s sill, we daze and dream the what is, no longer dashed and despaired by the what isn’t. Windows wait with us, knowing we could burst through of our own volition and violation. For if a door is closed, we simply break a window right?
But what of a window with no glass, nothing to break but the heart of the Hover? A Lord longing for us to let the splendid spectacle before us lead to the sweet sensation of staying. Long enough to be prepared by imagination and fortified by fantastic. For He adds to the beyond with it, preparing it for us as much as He prepares us for it. So when we come together co-created and co-creating we caravan to completion.
Windows are where we see nothing is withheld and everything is given. They are a place the edges us closer to living truly and fully on the edge. They are where we see what we are living for and would die for. Places of rest and reverie that teach us that protection isn’t a temporary dwelling but a permanent piece of who He is. For when He says “now” and we hurdle the hull of the haven, the hedge and hem go with us. Windows help us see how much we need the surround and sanctuary of His presence and protect.
Let Pappa reveal a window in your life that is separating you from all He has for you instead of leading you to the what is to come.
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