You’ve heard the phrase—maybe even whispered it to yourself during a tough season “When God closes a door, He opens a window.” It sounds lovely, like something you’d hear sung in the hills of Austria by Julie Andrews, arms wide, heart full, twirling in optimism. But let’s be honest: real life isn’t always that musical. Sometimes God closes the door, bolts the window, deadlocks the garage, nails shut the attic, and hides the spare key in a galaxy far away. And there you are—stuck in the hallway of life, under flickering fluorescent lights, wondering if you missed the memo or just the miracle.
So—what then?
We love the open doors. They come with shiny new jobs, unexpected friendships, and answered prayers wrapped in bows. They feel like divine high-fives. But what about the doors that slam so hard that they echo in your soul? What about the ones that never opened to begin with? Are those… holy, too? Absolutely.
The Bible is full of closed doors. You may not have noticed them initially—they don’t usually get the spotlight.
Let’s rewind to the beginning—Genesis, chapter 3. That’s where we see the very first closed door. After Adam and Eve chose disobedience over trust, paradise was no longer theirs to enjoy. They had broken what was perfect, and God, out of love, not anger, closed the way back in. If they had stayed, they would have reached for the Tree of Life and lived forever, but in a state of brokenness. (Genesis 3:22-24) God placed an angel with a flaming sword at the entrance of Eden and said, “No one may re-enter.” It wasn’t just discipline. It was deliverance.
God’s mercy was in the form of a closed door.
Fast forward to Noah. He builds the ark, the rains start falling, and a full-blown petting zoo is on board. Guess who shuts the door? God. God sealed the ark. He shut the world out—and protected Noah in. (Genesis 7:16)
God’s protection was in the form of a closed door.
Let’s not forget Paul and Silas—men on mission, following God with hearts full of obedience and feet complete of purpose. So, where did that faithful “yes” lead them? Not to a pulpit or a platform—but to prison. Bars. Chains. Another closed door. And yet—what did they do? They didn’t question, and they didn’t plot their escape. They sang. They lifted their voices in worship, like the walls didn’t matter. They praised as if freedom were already theirs. And then? The ground shook. The chains broke. The door opened. (Acts 16:25–26)
But don’t miss this: their worship wasn’t a reaction to the breakthrough. It was the prelude. They worshiped while the door was still closed.
God’s miracle was in the form of a closed door.
And then—there’s the tomb. The stone rolled in front of Jesus’ lifeless body. The ultimate closed door. It looked like the end. Darkness. Defeat. Despair. But in that sealed silence, salvation was doing its deepest work. God’s love closed that door, so resurrection could open it.
God’s love was in the form of a closed door.
Here’s the truth: faith is not proven when the door swings wide. It’s demonstrated in the hallway. In the waiting. In the locked rooms where you can’t see what God is doing, choose to praise Him anyway.
We don’t need to fear the closed doors. We need to reframe them. Sometimes, closed doors are keeping you in, not keeping you out. In from something toxic, something you’re not yet ready for, or something that would have derailed your soul.
It’s time to stop picking locks that God intentionally shut. Perhaps the closed doors are evidence of His mercy, protection, miracles, and love.
Let’s stop romanticizing only the open doors. Praise God for the ones He didn’t let you walk through. Praise Him for the mercy doors, the protection doors, the miracles witnessing doors, and the tomb-turned-triumph doors because of love.