“Build yourself a ship from teakwood. Make rooms in it. Coat it with pitch inside and out. Make it 450 feet long, seventy-five feet wide, and forty-five feet high. Build a roof for it and put in a window eighteen inches from the top; put in a door on the side of the ship; and make three decks, lower, middle, and upper.

It was the six-hundredth year of Noah’s life, in the second month, on the seventeenth day of the month that it happened: all the underground springs erupted and all the windows of Heaven were thrown open. Rain poured for forty days and forty nights.

Then God turned his attention to Noah and all the wild animals and farm animals with him on the ship. God caused the wind to blow and the floodwaters began to go down. The underground springs were shut off, the windows of Heaven closed and the rain quit. Inch by inch the water lowered. After 150 days the worst was over.

On the seventeenth day of the seventh month, the ship landed on the Ararat mountain range. The water kept going down until the tenth month. On the first day of the tenth month the tops of the mountains came into view. After forty days Noah opened the window that he had built into the ship.

One day, after they had been there quite a long time, Abimelech, king of the Philistines, looked out his window and saw Isaac fondling his wife Rebekah. Abimelech sent for Isaac and said, “So, she’s your wife. Why did you tell us ‘She’s my sister’?” Isaac said, “Because I thought I might get killed by someone who wanted her.”

She lowered them down out a window with a rope because her house was on the city wall to the outside. She told them, “Run for the hills so your pursuers won’t find you. Hide out for three days and give your pursuers time to return. Then get on your way.”

The men told her, “In order to keep this oath you made us swear, here is what you must do: Hang this red rope out the window through which you let us down and gather your entire family with you in your house—father, mother, brothers, and sisters. Anyone who goes out the doors of your house into the street and is killed, it’s his own fault—we aren’t responsible. But for everyone within the house we take full responsibility. If anyone lays a hand on one of them, it’s our fault. But if you tell anyone of our business here, the oath you made us swear is canceled—we’re no longer responsible.”

She said, “If that’s what you say, that’s the way it is,” and sent them off. They left and she hung the red rope out the window.

Sisera’s mother waited at the window, a weary, anxious watch. “What’s keeping his chariot? What delays his chariot’s rumble?” The wisest of her ladies-in-waiting answers with calm, reassuring words, “Don’t you think they’re busy at plunder, dividing up the loot? A girl, maybe two girls, for each man, And for Sisera a bright silk shirt, a prize, fancy silk shirt! And a colorful scarf—make it two scarves— to grace the neck of the plunderer.” * * *

Saul sent men to David’s house to stake it out and then, first thing in the morning, to kill him. But Michal, David’s wife, told him what was going on. “Quickly now—make your escape tonight. If not, you’ll be dead by morning!” She let him out of a window, and he made his escape. Then Michal took a dummy god and put it in the bed, placed a wig of goat’s hair on its head, and threw a quilt over it. When Saul’s men arrived to get David, she said, “He’s sick in bed.”

It was reported to King David that God had prospered Obed-Edom and his entire household because of the Chest of God. So David thought, “I’ll get that blessing for myself,” and went and brought up the Chest of God from the house of Obed-Edom to the City of David, celebrating extravagantly all the way, with frequent sacrifices of choice bulls. David, ceremonially dressed in priest’s linen, danced with great abandon before God. The whole country was with him as he accompanied the Chest of God with shouts and trumpet blasts. But as the Chest of God came into the City of David, Michal, Saul’s daughter, happened to be looking out a window. When she saw King David leaping and dancing before God, her heart filled with scorn.

Four hundred and eighty years after the Israelites came out of Egypt, in the fourth year of Solomon’s rule over Israel, in the month of Ziv, the second month, Solomon started building The Temple of God. The Temple that King Solomon built to God was ninety feet long, thirty feet wide, and forty-five feet high. There was a porch across the thirty-foot width of The Temple that extended out fifteen feet. Within The Temple he made narrow, deep-silled windows. Against the outside walls he built a supporting structure in which there were smaller rooms: The lower floor was seven and a half feet wide, the middle floor nine feet, and the third floor ten and a half feet. He had projecting ledges built into the outside Temple walls to support the buttressing beams.

It took Solomon another thirteen years to finish building his own palace complex. He built the Palace of the Forest of Lebanon a hundred and fifty feet long, seventy-five feet wide, and forty-five feet high. There were four rows of cedar columns supporting forty-five cedar beams, fifteen in each row, and then roofed with cedar. Windows in groupings of three were set high in the walls on either side. All the doors were rectangular and arranged symmetrically.

When Jezebel heard that Jehu had arrived in Jezreel, she made herself up—put on eyeshadow and arranged her hair—and posed seductively at the window. When Jehu came through the city gate, she called down, “So, how are things, ‘Zimri,’ you dashing king-killer?”

Jehu looked up at the window and called, “Is there anybody up there on my side?” Two or three palace eunuchs looked out.

He ordered, “Throw her down!” They threw her out the window. Her blood spattered the wall and the horses, and Jehu trampled her under his horse’s hooves.

Elisha said, “Now open the east window.” He opened it. Then he said, “Shoot!” And he shot. “The arrow of God’s salvation!” exclaimed Elisha. “The arrow of deliverance from Aram! You will do battle against Aram until there’s nothing left of it.”

When the Chest of the Covenant of God entered the City of David, Michal, Saul’s daughter, was watching from a window. When she saw King David dancing ecstatically she was filled with contempt. * * *

As I stood at the window of my house looking out through the shutters, Watching the mindless crowd stroll by, I spotted a young man without any sense Arriving at the corner of the street where she lived, then turning up the path to her house. It was dusk, the evening coming on, the darkness thickening into night. Just then, a woman met him— she’d been lying in wait for him, dressed to seduce him. Brazen and brash she was, restless and roaming, never at home, Walking the streets, loitering in the mall, hanging out at every corner in town.

A person without self-control is like a house with its doors and windows knocked out.

The Creator of All You Can See or Imagine

Who has scooped up the ocean in his two hands, or measured the sky between his thumb and little finger, Who has put all the earth’s dirt in one of his baskets, weighed each mountain and hill? Who could ever have told God what to do or taught him his business? What expert would he have gone to for advice, what school would he attend to learn justice? What god do you suppose might have taught him what he knows, showed him how things work? Why, the nations are but a drop in a bucket, a mere smudge on a window. Watch him sweep up the islands like so much dust off the floor! There aren’t enough trees in Lebanon nor enough animals in those vast forests to furnish adequate fuel and offerings for his worship. All the nations add up to simply nothing before him— less than nothing is more like it. A minus.

Then they remembered the old days, the days of Moses, God’s servant: “Where is he who brought the shepherds of his flock up and out of the sea? And what happened to the One who set his Holy Spirit within them? Who linked his arm with Moses’ right arm, divided the waters before them, Making him famous ever after, and led them through the muddy abyss as surefooted as horses on hard, level ground? Like a herd of cattle led to pasture, the Spirit of God gave them rest.” That’s how you led your people! That’s how you became so famous! Look down from heaven, look at us! Look out the window of your holy and magnificent house! Whatever happened to your passion, your famous mighty acts, Your heartfelt pity, your compassion? Why are you holding back? You are our Father. Abraham and Israel are long dead. They wouldn’t know us from Adam. But you’re our living Father, our Redeemer, famous from eternity! Why, God, did you make us wander from your ways? Why did you make us cold and stubborn so that we no longer worshiped you in awe? Turn back for the sake of your servants. You own us! We belong to you! For a while your holy people had it good, but now our enemies have wrecked your holy place. For a long time now, you’ve paid no attention to us. It’s like you never knew us.

Mourning women! Oh, listen to God’s Message! Open your ears. Take in what he says. Teach your daughters songs for the dead and your friends the songs of heartbreak. Death has climbed in through the window, broken into our bedrooms. Children on the playgrounds drop dead, and young men and women collapse at their games.

“Doom to him who builds palaces but bullies people, who makes a fine house but destroys lives, Who cheats his workers and won’t pay them for their work, Who says, ‘I’ll build me an elaborate mansion with spacious rooms and fancy windows. I’ll bring in rare and expensive woods and the latest in interior decor.’ So, that makes you a king— living in a fancy palace? Your father got along just fine, didn’t he? He did what was right and treated people fairly, And things went well with him. He stuck up for the down-and-out, And things went well for Judah. Isn’t this what it means to know me?” God’s Decree! “But you’re blind and brainless. All you think about is yourself, Taking advantage of the weak, bulldozing your way, bullying victims.”

“Again, God’s Message: “‘I’ll turn things around for Jacob. I’ll compassionately come in and rebuild homes. The town will be rebuilt on its old foundations; the mansions will be splendid again. Thanksgivings will pour out of the windows; laughter will spill through the doors. Things will get better and better. Depression days are over. They’ll thrive, they’ll flourish. The days of contempt will be over. They’ll look forward to having children again, to being a community in which I take pride. I’ll punish anyone who hurts them, and their prince will come from their own ranks. One of their own people shall be their leader. Their ruler will come from their own ranks. I’ll grant him free and easy access to me. Would anyone dare to do that on his own, to enter my presence uninvited?’ God’s Decree.