Shuttered Windows ~ Darkness Flees

Imagine a little house, built in the ideal location on the edge of a forest, and all around the house flowers are blooming, birds are chirping, and critters are emerging to welcome the sunrise.  Inside the house, however, everything is dark, dank, and dusty.  There is a pile of garbage stinking in the corner, and all kinds of nasty things are hiding in every nook and cranny.  The windows of the house are all boarded up, and the single resident hasn’t seen the sun in much too long.  That poor soul is ill, afraid, and withered—both at heart and in body—almost like King Theoden before Gandalf’s return.  He sometimes makes weak and futile attempts to chase away the shadows and the stink, but he is powerless to do so and they remain, smothering him all the more.  Still, the darkness inside that little house does nothing to darken the beauty and freshness of the spring sunrise.

Finally, someone approaches the house and requests entrance.  After receiving permission from the withered figure within, the newcomer swings wide the door and enters the house.  She throws back the shutters, allowing the morning sunlight to flood the dark room, and the shadows immediately flee.  She tosses all the garbage and stinking refuse out of the house, and the fresh spring breeze carries away all the dusty, dank odors.  Meanwhile, with the sunlight soaking his pale skin and the fresh air filling his lungs, the resident becomes younger, stronger, and more joyful.  He no longer desires to shut out the brilliance of the outside, but instead is ready to run out onto the grass and tell others of the restoration he has found.  He seeks out other gloomy houses with emaciated inhabitants, knocks on their doors, and shares the glory of the morning with them.

This portrait is, of course, allegorical.  The fresh, blooming beauty of the outdoors represents creation, God’s glorious work that He called ‘good.’  The dark inside of the house is our filthy, darkened souls after the invasion of sin, filled with the garbage of guilt and grudges and fear; and the poor inhabitant of the house is our pathetic selves—hating what we’ve become but weak and powerless to do anything about it.  Just like the shadows inside the house don’t touch the magnificence of the spring morning, so our murky, grimy selves don’t in any way diminish the original splendor of God’s creation.

When that someone knocks on the door of the house, we see loving, compassionate believers entreating us to open our hearts to Jesus; the fleeing of the darkness before the sunlight represents the joy and peace that flood our hearts and souls when we allow Him to enter.  The shadows of doubt flee from the brilliance of His presence, and He throws our fear and anger and regret to the wind, so to speak.  Once we know the fullness of God’s grace and love, we no longer fear it and attempt to shut it out; no, we are driven by an urge to share the message with the world so that all may experience that infinite, indescribable joy.  We are charged to be door-knockers, shutter-openers, and light-bringers to the world… what a glorious privilege that is!