Between Closed Doors
I’ve been thinking about something a lot this week.
I believe God closes doors.
I believe He doesn’t make mistakes.
I believe He’s already working, even when I can’t see it.
But what no one really talks about…
is the space between.
The space after one door has closed…
and before the next one opens.
I think that’s where faith becomes the hardest.
Because when you’re standing in between, nothing makes sense yet.
You don’t know where you’re going.
You don’t know how long you’ll be waiting.
You don’t even know if you’re walking in the right direction.
All you know is that the door behind you is closed.
And the one in front of you hasn’t opened yet.
I think almost everyone knows this feeling.
Maybe you’re waiting to hear back about a job.
Maybe you’re hoping for a message.
Maybe you’re waiting for a relationship.
Maybe you’re waiting for a dream you’ve been carrying for years.
The details are different.
But the waiting feels surprisingly similar.
And isn’t it strange how quickly our minds change?
Most days, I really do see the glass half full.
I remind myself that one rejection doesn’t define my future.
That one closed door doesn’t mean every door will stay closed.
That one difficult season doesn’t mean my whole life will look like this.
I genuinely believe those things.
And then…
there are other days.
Days where one rejection suddenly feels like ten.
Where one disappointment convinces me that nothing will ever change.
Where my mind quietly writes endings that haven’t happened yet.
That’s the part I struggle with.
Not believing that God can work miracles.
But wondering if He still has one with my name on it.
God,
You already know every thought I haven’t said out loud.
You know how quickly my mind runs ahead of me.
How easily fear speaks louder than hope.
And how often I try to figure everything out before You’ve even finished writing the story.
If this really is the space between closed doors and open ones…
teach me how to live here.
Not just how to survive it.
Teach me how to trust You here.
Teach me how to find peace here.
And if You’re preparing something I can’t see yet…
help me not to mistake Your silence for Your absence.
Because even when I can’t see the next door…
I still want to believe that You’re already standing on the other side of it.
Amen.