Every once in a while, a window opens and a glimpse of heaven appears.
            One of those moments was during the Offertory at the 11 o’clock service on “Cantata Sunday” – the violin/harp duet was exquisite and I found myself holding my breath as the music hung in the air, lifted heavenward by the Spirit.

There was another moment a short while later, during the cantata, as “the Word became flesh.” I suppose years of singing “Silent Night” had formed an impression of the quiet stillness of God stepping through the open window from heaven onto earth. But the composer and musicians provided a view through a different window, and revealed a glimpse of the power and glory of God that was emptied as Christ took on our form.

Earlier in Advent, during a session of Bible study, the assembled group was working its way through the text, resisting the temptation to say what we already knew it meant. And a window opened, a new insight into God’s grace emerged.

Over the years, I have also found windows to be flung wide open at all sorts of times, in all sorts of places. At free community breakfasts and family dinner tables; in funeral parlors and church parlors; in hospital rooms and living rooms. Sometimes when I was looking, sometimes when I was not, and sometimes when I was just going through the motions.

In the middle of winter in Ohio it is tempting to not only shut the windows, but apply the thermal seal, close the insulating curtains and indulge in a long winter’s nap.

Yet, as the earth sleeps under a blanket of snow, the opportunities for learning and serving and worship at Messiah abound. As the days begin to lengthen, the light peeks through the cracks in the curtains, inviting us to tear open the shutters and throw up the sash.