The Mystery of a Closed Door

Some readers will know that I have just returned from a two and half week pastoral leadership event in the South Island. One component of the very intensive and engaging Caleb Leadership Course is to learn how to communicate in "story modules." This post is a record of my attempt to comply with the tightly-prescribed and time-constrained "Twelve Minute Talk," which took me many hours to write and prune, and I thought deserved a wider audience than the three people who got to hear it! Former Caleb attenders might like to identify the modules and where they start and finish....

You're looking good, people. I can tell I'm in the presence of some "highly effective" pastors, leaders who proactively plan, synergetically supervise and interdependently implement. I know you are becoming highly skilled in the art of rescuing drowning flowers, flying binoculars and praying ten second prayers with a mint in your mouth, (these are in-jokes) and it's a privilege to be here to talk to you.

You know, all of us have different contexts. We all have choices to make. Following Jesus involves choices - doors of opportunity - and he calls us to find and open up those doors.

In December 2007, eighteen yearold Tom Hsu gave his testimony at Eastview. His speech was a little halting and gravelly, because of cerebral palsy, but with the help of Powerpoint we understood him. Tom told of coming to New Zealand from Taiwan, to study at a local secondary school. He explained the difficulties of his birth and childhood and the shame and rejection he had suffered in Taiwan. He told us what a difference school in New Zealand had made to his life, of love and acceptance, and of a a new faith, faith in Jesus. His winning smile and moving story touched our hearts, and I was not the only one listening with wet cheeks. Tom's closing remarks pointed us to a verse in Revelation 3, about a door that no one can shut. He was grateful, he said, to God for opening such a door in his life.

In April 2008, the Eastview community was shocked to learn that our beloved friend and colleague Tony McClean had died in an outdoor education disaster in the Mangetepopo Gorge, and that he had drowned with Tom Hsu strapped to his body. We experienced huge shock and sadness and anger and grief, but also a strange sense of thankfulness. Two friends - two brothers in Christ - had together passed through the door to eternity. We all have choices to make.

Ever since hearing Tom's testimony, I have been intrigued with the notion of doors in Scripture. From the huge doors of the Jerusalem temple to the small door of the prayer closet. From the locked doors of the Upper Room to the wide-open door between earth and heaven in Revelation 4. From the doors supposed to be locked in the jail in Phillippi to the door supposed to be opened by the servant girl Rhoda. and of course the door of faith we can open to the Lord Jesus when we invite him into our lives. But the one that inrtrgues me most is the wide-open door of which Paul writes in some of his letters, that the New Living Translation in one instance calls a "door of opportunity" (2 Cor 2: 12). What can Paul mean by this? What door has opened, or will be opened? (Col 4: 3) And for that matter, what does Luke mean when he writes in Acts 16 that the Holy Spirit forbade or prevented certain journeys?

We know that on at least one occasion, Paul had a vision that changed his itinerary, but was it always such a decisive spiritual experience? A prophetic word or a moving finger? I think the answer is something much more prosaic, a travel document withheld, a bout of malaria, a broken cartwheel. Isn't it often such pragmatic matters that guide our choices? Human circumstances that work as catalyst or check in our pursuit of what we see as God-given goals? A person feels called to serve in overseas msisions, but is rejected for health reasons. Another embarks on theological training, but drops out because they are not equipped to handle the academic rigour. A church hopes to buy a piece of real estate but is gazumped by a supermarket chain. God does, I believe, use these "closed doors" to inform our choices. But he also uses open ones to invite us into something new.
"One door closes, another opens," said Alexander Graham Bell. "But we often look so regretfully at the closed door we fail to see the one that has opened for us."

Amy Carmichael felt called to serve as a missionary in China but was turned down by China Inland Mission, only to apply to the Church Missionary Society and end up spending fifty effective years in India. George Mueller thought he was meant to take the gospel to Jews in London but ended up transforming the lives of thousands of orphans in Bristol. St C.... church lost the chance to buy a piece of land in an industrial estate, but later found a new opportunity to rebuild in the hub of a busy Auckland shopping centre. That has to be God. We need to find and open these doors of opportunity.

The tricky thing is, how proactive we need to be in seeking and pursuing these opportunities? If a "door before us" seems closed, do we just test it gently, or give it a shake, or heave a shoulder? Does a chink of light mean open or closed? Or in the words of our reading from Colossians 1, how do we "toil and struggle" while still relying on God's powerful energy? How do we discern when one path of action is being closed to us, and turn our eyes to new invitations and opportunities?

Have you ever asked yourself, "Is it worth it all?" In Winter 1993 I sat on a cold doorstep in ....(small town Northland) feeling very confused. More than twenty years before, I had followed a powerful call to ministry which led to me becoming one of the first wave of Presbyterian clergywomen in NZ. In those early years I had served as hospital chaplain and parish locum. But due to a convergence of geography, family culture, societal expectations and local opposition, I had not served in pastoral ministry since we had our four children, by then school-aged. I had plenty to do in home, church and community, even serving as school guidance counsellor, but somehow I felt that was not what I was born to be. After covering an 18-month vacancy in our local church, the elders had declined my offer to fill the role. Sadly I learned they would be seeking "a real minister" and were looking forward to having" a man in the manse". This painful rejection led to my husband and I resigning from that parish, and agreeing together that the door was closed; it was time to move. But where? When?

I tried a few doors. I added my name to the list of ministers available for call, and spoke to a few key influencers. I applied for a job a chaplain at a church school, but after interviews the Board needed to clarify criteria and made no appointment. I sent my CV to one vacant parish and got it back by return mail. Another looked at me seriously but in the end decided against a woman when a key elder threatened to resign. It was the phone call telling me that, that led to my sitting sadly on the doorstep of my homegroup leader, having dissolved into tears. In confusion I asked myself, is it actually worth it all? Did I get this horribly wrong? Was my call the product of a fevered teenage imagination? Was the church misguided in selecting me for ordination? Were those rural elders right, God doesn't call women to the ministry? After my hostess drew me back inside, the members of my small group prayed for me. Those dear Baptists were probably no more convinced of the validity of my call than the Pressies, but they brought it to the feet of Jesus. I felt much more settled, and decided not to test any more doors. Three months later, we saw the first stage in what would become an invitation to an assistant minister role, in a suburban Auckland parish that would superbly meet our whole family's needs. In time I would become the Senior Minister of that parish, a role that consolidated my gifts and call in a great leadership experience over twelve years. Looking back, I know it was worth it all.

In rural England during World War Two, Lucy Pevensie was playing hide and seek with her brothers and sister. Hoping she'd found a suitable hideout, she climbed into a huge wardrobe in a spare room, and squeezed in among the fur coats hanging there. Suddently she found herself flat on her back in a snowy forest. You probably know the story. That wardrobe door was the portal to a magical land, Narnia, where she met whimsical creatures, ferocious beasts, Father Christmas and the evil White Witch who kept the land in permanent winter. In time, she and her siblings would meet the loving and powerful Aslan, the "good but not safe" ruler of that parallel universe where time stands still but humans can grow to meet their full potential. The wardrobe door was a door of invitation, a door of opportunity. And you know in this life there are doors of invitation and opportunity as well. Following Jesus - for that is Aslan's real name - offers a world of choice, a world of opportunity.

So what doors lie before you, in your ministry context? What new challenge is there to embrace, what new territory to explore? Is there a wide open door, or even a chink of light? We all have choices to make. Doors of opportunity lie before us.
Take the Opportunity. Step into a Different Space. Open a Door Today.

May God be to us all
the peace that keeps us calm
the place to hide from harm
the light that shines in dark
the heart's eternal spark
and the door that's open wide
with his endless love inside.
Amen.