I’ve seen it ALL over. It’s E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E. I see it on all the social media everything, on t-shirts, on bumper stickers, heard it at church services and seen it on TV. When God closes one door, He opens another one. Don’t open the doors you weren’t meant to go through. When one door closes, another one opens. Doors, doors, doors. What’s with all the doors already?
First of all, how am I even supposed to know what door to go through? There’s doors all over the place. There’s in your face doors. There’s invisible doors. There’s sneaky doors. How do I even know which door to even attempt to open? Should I open the pretty door. That one seems innocent enough. Or maybe the wood door is best for me. Hmmm . . . but that one’s probably heavy and cumbersome. What about that great, big, giant, steel door? It’s probably strong and stable . . . reliable. There must be some kind of rule book out there for picking the right doors to go through.
And then, what happens if the door I choose opens really, really easily . . . but what I find behind it sucks? Can I open that door from the inside and escape quickly? Or will it have some kind of child proof lock that renders me captive, so I’ll have no choice but to stay there and suck it up for a while? But on the other hand, maybe that door was so easy to get through because it was meant to be. Destined for me. That would be so cool. So wanted. So badly needed.
But what if the door I have my sights set on is so big and so wide and so thick and very resistant to entry, yet I just KNOW I’m supposed to go through it. I just KNOW it’s my destiny. I just KNOW I was meant to step in and conquer whatever’s on the other side of that massive entryway. What if I’m meant to get past it’s rough exterior and come face to face with the greatest blessing that’s there, waiting for me just beyond its hinges. But on the other hand, how am I supposed to know that maybe I shouldn’t even attempt to go through? Do I take into account the stubborn doorknob refuses to turn, making it immune to me entering? Should I just know that this door isn’t the one, and move on to another smaller, more manageable door . . . or would I be selling myself short? Not living up to my expectations? Worse yet, His expectations?
And when He does close one door, how do I even know where to look for the next open door? Maybe I won’t even want to try another door. Maybe when He closed that door on me, my finger got caught and it hurt like hell. . . in my heart. Maybe I won’t want to try any doors anymore. Maybe I’d rather just say screw all the damn doors and go through windows. They’re much, much more transparent, after all. And I can smash them with a chair and escape.
If you ask me . . . too many choices. Too many scenarios. Too many doors. Way too many doors. All I know is that I really and truly hope and pray that He’ll slam the doors I’m not supposed to go through RIGHT. IN. MY. FACE. I’d rather have a broken nose than be trapped behind the wrong door.
