And at the same time
pray for us also, that God may open a door to us for the Word (the Gospel), to
proclaim the mystery concerning Christ (the Messiah) on account of which I am
in prison. Colossians 4:3 (AMP)
I’ve heard the saying that goes “When God closes one door,
he opens another one.” Or “When God
closes a door, he opens a window.”
I didn’t realize that this imagery was in the Bible, but I
came across it in this verse.
I can’t help but visualize a scene from the movie Monsters, Inc. where there were
seemingly hundreds upon hundreds of doors, all different and all destined for a
child’s room with monsters ready to spring from behind them.
One little girl, though, wasn’t afraid of the monsters at
all. Turns out they were afraid of
her. She didn’t mind the door
opening. To this toddler, it meant an
adventure, something new to experience.
All of this door talk is scary, no matter how you look at
it. A door closing can be a very
traumatic thing. I can get really
attached to a door (and what it represents).
When a favored door starts creaking shut, I’ll fight to hold it open
until the bitter end. And at times, I am
very bitter for a long while.
But then there are the doors that are slowing swinging
open. Oh, no! I don’t want that, either! It’s scary and dark in there. I don’t recognize anything, and I’m sure I
won’t be able to get a handle on it before others start their comments on my obvious
discomfort.
Why do I continue to go round and round in circles? It seems as though I’m never content with the
doors as they open and close. Even when
I feel relief as a problem door finally closes, I have a vague notion of
defeat. “You could have handled that
better,” I hear whispered in my ear. “It
didn’t have to end. Why did you let it?”
The evil one really knows how to stretch it out, doesn’t he? I was a court reporter for 7 years after
going to school for 2 years, so I had 9 years wrapped up in it. The whole thing, the whole 9 years, was a
nightmare for me. Whatever could go
wrong, did go wrong in about seven different ways. I begged God to deliver me from this horrible
situation.
And He did! That was 17
years ago. I praise Him for it! I praise
Him because He loves me and takes care of me.
But I also still feel a bit of regret.
I really should have done it
better.
To know that I was trying so
hard that I ended up with stroke-level blood pressure that could have killed me
doesn’t help. To know that I really, really did my best doesn’t help. To know that God has used that experience in
countless ways for His glory doesn’t help.
The regret is still there. I’m
still listening to the whispers.
I really admire Paul.
In the verse above, he is praying for a door to open so that he can
preach the Gospel, even though that’s precisely why he’s in prison. He had had every single door in his life
slammed shut as he collapsed under the power of Christ Jesus on the road to Damascus. But, oh, what a door that was opened to him!
That I may proclaim
it fully and make it clear [speak boldly and unfold that mystery], as is my
duty. Colossians 4:4 (AMP)
Can the rest of us do any less?
