There was a time when surviving summer required considerably more strategy than it does today.
Now, I realize that air conditioning has become so commonplace that younger readers may struggle to believe what I am about to say.
But there was once an era when entire households relied upon a box fan placed in a window.
And somehow, despite the obvious technological limitations, we survived.
Mostly.
As I thought about the annual advent of the window fan, it immediately stirred a memory from 1995. I had just begun the course work for my Doctor of ministry degree at Ashland university in Ohio. The work was done through intensive courses on campus in Ohio back in those days, when internet was just beginning to be a thing. Our Canadian contingent arrived, and in the interests of saving money, most of us had booked rooms in the University residence for that first August intensive.
That August broke records for heat in that part of Ohio, and I found myself soon at the local Walmart to purchase a window fan. I installed it as soon as I got home, and then found that in that sort of oppressive heat, all it contributed was a feeling that some large creature was exhaling hot humid breath over you all night.
The following day, three of us from the Canadian contingent went together to rent a hotel room in an air-conditioned place up the road, forfeiting the money we had paid for residence rooms in favour of attending classes with some sleep under our belts.
But I digress, dear reader.
Now, the annual appearance of the faithful old window fan was itself a seasonal ritual.
Somewhere around the first truly hot day of July, someone would descend into the basement, retrieve the fan from winter storage, and carry it upstairs with all the solemnity of a sacred procession.
The fan would then be installed in the most strategic window in the house.
At which point the debate would begin.
Should the fan blow cool air in?
Or should it push hot air out?
I have witnessed intelligent adults spend astonishing amounts of time discussing this question.
Charts were imagined.
Theories were proposed.
Experimental trials were conducted.
And still no consensus emerged.
Grace abounds.
Now, I suspect the real purpose of these discussions was not actually cooling the house.
The real purpose was allowing people to feel as though they were exercising some degree of control over the weather.
Which, as it turns out, is not a responsibility God has delegated to us.
Still, we tried.
And if I am honest, I continue to try.
Perhaps not with window fans anymore.
But certainly in other areas of life.
Most of us spend a great deal of time attempting to control things.
We make plans.
We organize.
We prepare.
We create lists for our lists.
We would prefer life to proceed in a predictable and orderly fashion.
And then reality arrives.
A health concern.
A disappointment.
An unexpected change.
A prayer that remains unanswered.
Suddenly we discover that life is not nearly as manageable as we hoped.
Now, one of the curious things about summer is that it often creates space for reflection.
The pace changes.
The evenings grow longer.
There is time to sit on a porch, walk a trail, paddle a canoe, or simply stare thoughtfully into a cup of coffee.
And in those quieter moments, many of us begin asking deeper questions.
Where is God leading me?
What should I be doing differently?
What needs to change?
What needs to stay the same?
These are not always comfortable questions.
But they are important ones.
And this is where I find myself thinking once again about the window fan.
Because spiritual growth is not always about bringing something new into our lives.
Sometimes it is about letting something old go.
Before fresh air can enter, stale air often needs somewhere to go.
Old grudges.
Old disappointments.
Old fears.
Old assumptions.
Old habits that no longer serve us well.
Many of us spend years praying for God to add something wonderful to our lives while quietly ignoring the things God may be asking us to release.
Now, I am not suggesting that spiritual formation can be reduced to household ventilation.
The Desert Fathers would probably be disappointed.
Still, the image works surprisingly well.
A room cannot be refreshed while every window remains closed.
And a heart cannot easily grow while clinging tightly to everything it has ever carried.
The Christian life involves both receiving and releasing.
Both welcoming and surrendering.
Both opening ourselves to God’s future and letting go of things that belong in the past.
Now, I realize that none of this sounds particularly dramatic.
There are no fireworks involved.
No grand announcements.
Most spiritual growth happens quietly.
One prayer at a time.
One act of forgiveness at a time.
One small step of trust at a time.
Rather like opening a window and allowing a breeze to enter.
You may not notice the difference immediately.
But over time everything changes.
I think this is one of the hidden gifts of Ordinary Time.
The season reminds us that God often works through small things.
Daily habits.
Simple choices.
Quiet acts of faithfulness.
The sort of changes that seem insignificant in the moment but gradually transform a life.
So if this July finds you sitting beside an open window, listening to the hum of a fan somewhere in the house, perhaps take a moment to ask yourself a simple question.
What stale air might God be inviting me to release?
And what fresh breeze of grace might be waiting to enter?
Because sometimes the Spirit moves in mighty and dramatic ways.
And sometimes the Spirit arrives looking remarkably like a summer breeze through an open window.
Alleluia.
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Companion Prayer
Gracious God,
Open the windows of our hearts.
Help us to release the fears,
resentments,
and burdens we no longer need to carry.
Make room within us for your peace,
your wisdom,
and your grace.
Refresh our spirits as surely as a cool breeze refreshes a summer day.
And teach us to trust that your Spirit is always at work,
bringing new life where it is needed most.
Through Christ our Lord.
Amen.