Don’t Sit in the Window

“As Paul spoke on and on, a young man named Eutychus, sitting on the windowsill, became very drowsy. Finally, he fell sound asleep and dropped three stories to his death below. Paul went down, bent over him, and took him into his arms. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘he’s alive!’ And they all went back upstairs, shared in the Lord’s Supper, and ate together. Paul continued talking to them until dawn, and then he left. Meanwhile, the young man was taken home alive and well, and everyone was greatly relieved.”
— Acts 20:9–12 (NLT)

Eutychus wasn’t outside the church. He was in the upper room, surrounded by believers, listening to Paul preach. But he wasn’t fully inside either. He was sitting in the window — half in, half out. One foot in the fellowship, one foot dangling into the night.

That detail matters. Inside the room was the light, the Word of God, the safety of fellowship. Outside was darkness and the long fall below. The window was the in-between place, and it was the most dangerous place to rest. When drowsiness came, it wasn’t just a nap. It was a fall.

That’s the first teaching here: don’t live half in and half out. If Eutychus had dozed off inside, at worst he would have been sleeping in the company of God’s people. But sitting on the edge meant he was exposed to the pull of gravity — and gravity always wins. That’s what compromise does. Half in the Word, half in the noise. Half in Christ, half in the world. The longer you linger in the window, the easier it is to drift until you fall.

But there’s another layer too. Sometimes the fall doesn’t come because of compromise. Sometimes it happens when we’re doing right — when we’re faithful, steady, even thriving. Then suddenly, without warning, life shoves us out the window. A company cuts you loose. A friend betrays you. A storm you never saw coming knocks you flat. You didn’t choose the window, but you still ended up on the ground.

And here’s the hope both kinds of falls share: Jesus comes running. Paul didn’t stay upstairs and shake his head. He rushed down, bent over Eutychus, wrapped him in his arms, and spoke life: “Don’t worry — his life is still in him.”

That’s mercy. That’s Jesus. He doesn’t leave you where you fell, whether you toppled from compromise or were pushed by circumstances you couldn’t control. He meets you at the bottom, He embraces you in the dust, and He declares that the story isn’t finished. Life is still in you.

Even when our devotion is weak, even when we stumble, even when we do a “half-butt job,” God still loves us and doesn’t forsake us. Those who have truly received Christ may fall, but His arms still catch us. Yet the warning remains: the window isn’t a safe place. Inside the room is where the light is, where the Lord’s Supper is shared, where His people are gathered.

Those who are fully awake in Christ are already inside with Him. Those who are sincere but still weak sometimes drift toward the window, and the fall is real — with consequences that follow — yet His mercy still restores them. But those who remain outside in the darkness of the world, never entering the room at all, will not share in the fellowship of Christ or in His kingdom.

The story of Eutychus is both comfort and warning. Don’t settle for the window. Step fully inside, where the light and the table of the Lord are waiting.