Cindy Powell

 

Walk with me, beloved.

I took his hand and we began walking down a brightly lit corridor.  Almost immediately, I saw a large red door.  This must be it!  The door he promised to open for me! I stood waiting with anticipation.  I just knew that door would open any minute …

It didn’t.

I looked up and realized the Lord had been patiently waiting for me as I lingered by the wrong door. He gently shook his head and we continued on.

Next, there was a blue door. I started to pause but realized Jesus wasn’t stopping there either.  Immediately, the blue door was followed by a green door, then a purple door, then a silver one, a gold one ….  We were passing them so quickly, it made my head spin.  At first, I was distracted by each one–admiring the different colors, shapes, and sizes–I kept wondering if one of them was “my” door.  I was so expectant, I just knew one would open at any time.

It didn’t.

The doors we passed became less frequent.  There was a stretch–a very long stretch–when we didn’t pass any doors at all.

We just kept walking.  On and on …

And on.

The passageway became narrower. Steeper. Darker. We were no longer in a brightly lit corridor.  In fact, it became so dark it was difficult to see anything at all.  I had to hold his hand firmly to keep from stumbling. I had to focus intently just to see the small flicker of light that barely illuminated the very next step.

Despite the difficulty, I was glad to be with him. His presence was my comfort.  My peace. My strength. But truthfully, I wasn’t terribly expectant anymore. I wasn’t as excited. My heart was no longer filled with the same sense of anticipation. I stopped looking for the door he promised to open and resolved to simply enjoy being with him. I resolved to continue walking with him–even as the days turned into years and there no longer appeared to be a clear purpose for the journey.

We just kept walking.  On and on …

And on.

After a long while, unexpectedly, I noticed the path had become brighter again.  I looked up and saw yet another door. Unlike the others, this one wasn’t to my right or my left–it was dead ahead.

And we were headed straight for it.

It was a small door. A plain door. A small, drab wooden door.  But instinctively I knew… 

I knew this was my door.

The door was already slightly ajar. I realized the light we had been walking into was coming from behind the door!  This plain little door literally couldn’t contain the glory shining from within!  The brilliance escaping from the tiny, cracked opening shone with greater radiance and intensity  than anything I had ever experienced.

My heart was pounding as we approached. Could it be? After all this time, could it really be that there was still an open door …

For me?

The door itself was plain, but the handle and lock were beautiful. Exquisite, really. They were intricately carved and looked to be fashioned of pure gold.  Such extravagant detail lavished upon such a simple place of entry. As Jesus reached for the door, he paused and turned to look at me with the most dazzling smile I have ever seen.

Then, in one swift motion–before I could even fathom the breathtaking possibilities of the glory about to be revealed–he threw the door fully open. In a single instant I knew the truth of what he had been telling me all along …

~I wasn’t late.

~I wasn’t behind.

~I hadn’t somehow stumbled onto the wrong path.

~I hadn’t missed “it.”

~I was where I was supposed to be.

~I was doing what I was supposed to be doing.

… And he had set before me an open door. A door that no man can shut.

I am walking toward that open door …

I’m pretty sure it’s going to be worth the wait.

(The Lord brought me back to this post this morning–which was originally written in Dec. 2011–because he knew  I desperately needed the reminder. Since we never journey alone, I figured someone else may need the reminder today too ….)