open door

It seems like a scene from a movie: “After this I looked, and there before me was a door standing open in heaven. And the voice I had first heard speaking to me like a trumpet said, ‘Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this.’” Revelation 4:1.

I imagine a large door, more like a gate, at the head of a flight of stone steps. It cracks open, blinding light streaming through, and then swings wide. And a voice booms an invitation. Do I go or not? Even knowing I’m in heaven, is that a threshold I want to cross? 

And the invitation isn’t for tea; it’s to see the future. After passing through the door John saw a throne surrounded by 24 other thrones, and strange, flying multi-eyed beasts who constantly praised Jesus. And that’s just the start of a lot of strange things to come. John was going to see the Apocalypse itself.

I think even in a vision it took a lot of courage to walk through that door. And it makes me think of all the invitations from God I’ve received in my life. Sometimes I knew it was God, sometimes I didn’t realize until after, but always there was a thing to do or a place to go. Every time there was a person or people. And it was always clear that what was wanted was an action, a step that would commit me. Sometimes it was to go to a meeting, sometimes to intervene in a conflict. Once it was to put in an application for a license to exhort. 

In all these times, I had doubts. Sometimes I didn’t do it. Often I did. Many times I wished I hadn’t – following where Jesus leads can take you to some messy, uncomfortable places. But every single time I accepted an invitation from God what happened changed me and blessed me and grew me. It was always a good thing in the end.

We talk a lot about doors opening and closing; it’s a useful metaphor. When we do that, we’re talking about opportunities. Sometimes when God pushes a door open and invites me through, it doesn’t look like opportunity. It looks more like that eerie door in the abandoned house that creaks open in the suspense movies. It looks like uncertainty and risk and work, and the reward isn’t readily apparent.

But there is no risk or uncertainty with Jesus, just things he knows that we don’t yet. And trusting him is its own reward.

John reminds me today that God will again at some point open a specific door and invite me to join him in a specific thing. He never compels or coerces, and it’s always my choice. But it’s always a good choice. In the end, I’ve never regretted accepting an invitation from God. I’ve always regretted the ones I looked past.