Consider the Door
By Sandy Vekasy
often refer to “doors” as an explanation of the working of God’s will in their
lives. A certain door closes, so that must mean God has said “No.” Another door opens unexpectedly, and we are
Some doors look as if they are locked, so we decide not to try them. Other doors stand wide open to us; because they offer no challenge, we dismiss them as having no value. Revolving doors give us the illusion of progress and movement, but they ultimately leave us exhausted and no farther along than when we began. A clear glass door reveals the other side and usually poses no threat to our security. These doors open with a whisper touch. Other massive oak doors loom menacingly before us. They give way reluctantly only after one’s entire weight is applied. Stumbling into a dimly lit entryway, we grope for reassurance that we have not lost our way. Some doors are marked “Exit,” but they are only for emergencies. Others are carefully concealed so as not to look like doors. They blend with the walls or hide behind curtains. Only the insiders, the special people, know these private doors. Trap doors wait to ensnare the unsuspecting. The guilty use escape hatches to avoid facing punishment. Side doors and back doors are handy for those unable to enter the conventional way. Sliding doors and swinging doors both need special skills to operate. Screen doors allow communication without the fear of being too close. When a jail door clangs shut, the prisoner is trapped. Doors are, indeed, more complex than we might imagine.
What then of the “doors” of God’s will? Perhaps we should heed the words of Adrienne Rich in her poem, “Prospective Immigrants Please Note,” when she says, “Either you will go through this door or you will not go through. . . . The door itself makes no promises. It is only a door.”
(Originally published in The Pentecostal Evangel, October 13, 1985)