In the hotel where I stayed in Brazil last August was an open window. US hotels have windows that are securely locked, if not installed as an immovable glass plate. I suppose this is for interior climate control but its usually unpleasant; the air is totally stagnant and often stale. Smoking may not have been permitted for five years but from the moment you enter the room its past history is of no doubt. Even in the nicest rooms, with the most pleasant amenities, the air quality is generally lacking. The strange thing about this open window was that it had no glass at all. The large, street-facing open space had a very solid, metal louvered covering on the outside, and a kind of light-blocking screen that rolled down on the inside, but there was no way to close the window. It was open permanently, by design. How charming, I thought.
In Brazil, sitting home watching TV is not the norm. I was struck by the fact that socializing wasn't a occasional activity, it was a way of life. People come out in the evenings to gather together and talk in the streets. The younger people drive around in their cars, going around and around the block with their windows down talking to people they know on the sidewalks. This goes on for hours every night. At 1:00 am people were still in the streets laughing and smoking and honking their horns. As I lay awake, the conversations being held on the street below my window reminded me of a crowded restaurant where one notices lots of voices in varying volumes all around but can't really hear any of them. Okay, this was not so charming after all.
My host was more than willing to request an interior room were this to be intolerable - but I loved the fresh air and the smells of Brazil and there was something enchanting about that open window. It was, all in itself, an adventure. I made up my mind to adjust, and I did. It wasn't a perfect night's sleep, but after awhile the street noise became a familiar presence.
As I look back on this open window, it seems a good metaphor for God's relationship with us. We tend to be in a closed posture toward God; we chose whether or not to invite God into our private joyful moments or vulnerable places as easily as opening or closing a window; its our life, our room, our window. But a solid reading of holy texts supports the opposite truth: Its God's life, God's room, God's street, God's open window, and by design, it never closes. From this perspective a couple of things become abundantly clear.
The first is that the voice of God is never quiet. God is speaking to us from every corner of creation at every moment. There is no where we can go that God does not pursue us, speak to us, with us, through us. But is it any wonder we can't hear God speak when we believe we've closed the window? We deceive ourselves. The heart of the psalmist who knows the larger truth writes, "God, you examine me and know me, you know if I am standing or sitting, you read my thoughts from afar, whether I walk or lie down, you are watching, you know every detail of my conduct.... Where could I go to escape your spirit? Where could I flee from your presence? If I climb the heavens you are there, there too, if I lie in Sheol." (139:1-3, 7-8) How radically different might our world view be if we were attuned to God's tireless presence and the constant rambling of the voice of the One who created us.
The second is that God is always active. The breath of God carries with it moist heat and thunderous storms in the summer and stinging cold winds in winter and we cannot prevent it. Through God's open window each passing day holds and releases the full measure of promises and losses that make up the created order. Each night the streets are filled with the sounds of people gathering. The activity rises then fades as the dark of night approaches the light of day. In the early morning hours it is strangely quiet save the sound of the shopkeeper sweeping the walk, and the heavy steps of the occasional passerby on their way to work. After a while, the storefront grills begin to open, one after another: first the clanging of the chain and lock, then the noisy clatter of the receding metal security gate skimming up its track. The motor bikes hazardously zip between the cars, honking, honking as they move through the slowly building congestion in the narrow traffic lanes. And then it is fully day; noise amidst motion, emotions amidst expressions, walking amidst sitting, driving amidst skating, whispering amidst yelling, shuffling steps amidst sharp, deliberate steps, the chiming of church bells and the stillness of prayer amidst echoes of a fiery street preacher and the clapping swooning of the crowd, things sell amidst things that are bought. The ebb of evening comes; dusk. As the street lights brighten, the security gates clang shut and the chains rattle as the locks are set. It is night again and the people take to the streets.
Adjust so that nothing is lost.
No comments:
Post a Comment