Not Every Closed Door Is About You

The steps are already here.

Leading upward.

Doors framed in wood.

Glass catching the light from inside.

From the sidewalk, it would be easy to assume you missed something.

That you arrived too late.

That everyone else was welcomed and you were not.

But tonight the doors are closed for a reason.

There is a sign.

A private gathering.

Nothing about it is a verdict on the people standing outside.

Many of us learned to read every closed door as rejection.

Every pause as disapproval.

Every unavailable person as evidence we asked for too much.

Shrinking grows in those interpretations.

It tells people to retreat before they risk being turned away.

To stop hoping.

To pre-emptively make themselves smaller.

But Christ keeps teaching people how to tell the difference between boundaries and abandonment.

Between timing and worth.

Between “not now” and “not you.”

Stopping shrinking sometimes looks like resisting the urge to personalize every no.

Letting context exist.

Allowing other people’s schedules, limits, and circumstances to belong to them.

There are seasons when rejection really has happened.

When doors truly were closed to keep you out.

Jesus does not minimize that pain.

He knows exclusion.

He stood outside city gates.

He was misunderstood.

He was refused.

And still—He does not train people to disappear.

He trains them to stay anchored in dignity.

If tonight you find yourself at the bottom of the steps wondering what you did wrong, pause.

Look again.

Ask what might be true that is not about you.

Breathe before retreating.

You are allowed to remain whole even when a door is shut.

Not every closed door is about you.