The azalea bush outside my living room window is putting on a glorious show this spring. I can see it from my favorite living room chair where I sit for my quiet time every morning. But I can also see how dusty and rain-streaked my windows are after the long winter months. So last Saturday, when the temperature climbed to nearly 70 degrees, I got out the buckets and rags and window cleaner to tackle the job. The window glass is divided into dozens of tiny panes that have to be individually washed, making the task . . . well . . . a pain!
You know that great feeling you get when you tackle a hard job and can immediately see the results? That’s how I felt when I finally stood back to proudly view my finished windows. It seemed as though there was no glass in the window frames at all!
Then I got up on Sunday morning.
Those windows face east, and as the brilliant sunlight streamed into the room it revealed every streak and smudge and swirl mark I had made. The mess hadn’t been visible until the light shone directly on it.
It was an appropriate lesson for me. I can delude myself into thinking I’m a pretty good Christian on the outside, all cleaned up and looking good—until Christ shines His light and reveals my spots and streaks. That’s exactly what happened when I spoke without thinking last week and my words came out in a way that hurt a dear friend. Words are my livelihood and I had used them carelessly. “If anyone considers himself religious and yet does not keep a tight rein on his tongue, he deceives himself and his religion is worthless” (James 1:26). Just like a dirt-streaked window.
I’m not as squeaky-clean as I think I am. Unless I allow the Light of the World to change me, I’ll remain as flawed as my windows, as filthy as my pile of cleaning rags. I’ve asked my friend for forgiveness. And I’m praying that from now on the Holy Spirit will help me to “be quick to listen, slow to speak” (James 1:19).
