Consider the Door

By Sandy Vekasy

 

 

            People 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 sure that Providence is sending us a direct signal to act. Although we are certain that God does guide us through circumstances, only after open doors have proved to be disappointments do we usually stop to ponder the validity of our choices. Are we automatically to enter through doors merely because they are there? Are all open doors signs of God’s direction? I am one of those unfortunate people who goes around pushing doors marked “Pull” and vice versa. I also invariably smash my face against doors marked “Use Other Door.” Thus, I have given some thought to the complexities of everyday doors.

          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)