Look! What do thee see old man

I recently sat in waiting worship. I was in the south of Philadelphia, and alone with one other person waiting. When that person left, I took note of a window. In a building called the barn,

in which the meeting house was born, I took note. In the words of the prophet, I received a message.

“What do you see, old man?”

“I see a window. It is different from the others. It has bricks but no glass. It is no longer a window, but a collection of bricks. Painted white like the wall.

“Look to your right old man,” said that baptism of fire and cleansing water. “What do you see?” I turned my face to the north. There was nothing to note. Only the sameness connects a window in good repair with eight more like it. Perhaps more. Outside, sunlight was absent, not to be known without a window of good repair.

“How is it you see nothing?” asked they who create out of chaos.

“It is a window in good repair,” I said.

“There is not more?" Asked the Rock of Stability and the Breast of Nurture.

“It is dark. The sun is down, and I see nothing more.”

“There is no truth to be regarded by an open window, Friend?”

“Thy wisdom is discerning, yet I cannot… where are thee taking me.’ The small still thought worked through my head in The Presence. I can see through the window with the glass – I can predict outcomes and feel stability in my ability to prepare for and negotiate a walk home through the night. I will know the next day has come upon me by the sunlight, shining through the panes of my eyes – its power overcoming the shades pulled down over my insight.

“And in the south, what do you see now?” asked El Shaddai as I imagined patience and yearning, still glanced at their watch.

"I see bricks. I cannot see through them.” I spoke. They block out moon and sun. There is nothingness.

“There cannot be nothing,” said my home team logos. “Your presence is confirmed by the presence of the brick. Yet you still have the capacity to predict outcomes because Creation is perfect and thee knows when the sun sets and rises, bricks or not. You have choices, Friend.”

When I come to obstacles – perhaps a miles long brick was in the middle of a sojourning path. Ahh – it happens regularly. When I can see a predictable outcome, it is because I have expectations of meaning that allow for easy interpretation through an open window. It is raining. It is windy. The world sends me an open invitation to walk cheerfully and justly.

“And the bricks?’ inquired the one who knows all.

I cannot see outside. It is an obstacle. If this were the only window, or all the others were like it, I could not predict what would be on the other side of the wall of this place. It leaves things unknown.”

“But there is commonality between the bricked-up window and the window in good repair.”

_Ah,” I said. “They are rectangular.” Like a small still voice, I received a gentle backhand.

“NO! Neither window will show you what lies ahead – over the horizon. Are thee scared of the unknown – what lies over the rainbow where the present comes upon you quickly and then disappears. How can thee prepare for that, but that it is such in the present just passing.”

I thought about the farm. The work, the stability, the sustenance – stability and nurture for many souls.

“What do you see through the bricks, old man?” I am standing atop a mountain surrounded by brick. In the present, I cannot see my farm through the bricks. I can only have faith that it will still be there over every horizon I come to. I must have faith when I cannot predict what will happen. Yet nothing tells me to change course. Everything tells me, though I cannot see success, that God’s will be done, and this old man will feed the people.

Have faith in the Sandhill Project. We feed the Other. Donate so we can continue to feed the People.