📖 “I know your works. See, I have set before you an open door, and no one can shut it; for you have a little strength, have kept My word, and have not denied My name."
Revelation 3:8
There are times in life when our hearts ache not from what we've lost, but from what we never truly had — the unspoken dreams, the almost-relationships, the promise that shimmered just beyond reach. It's in these spaces of silent mourning that we realise: we were clinging to potential, not presence.
That old, weathered door in the garden is such a tender picture of this process. The peeling paint, the creaking hinge — it's not perfect, but it's open. And beyond it? Light. Growth. New beginnings.
God, in His mercy, often allows certain doors to remain shut, or never fully open, because He knows what our hearts need. Not just what they want in the moment, but what will truly nourish and sustain us in the long run. When something — or someone — doesn’t choose us, it's not always rejection. Sometimes, it’s redirection. A mercy in disguise.
Letting go isn’t weakness; it’s sacred strength. It’s choosing to trust that what's meant for us will come — not by striving, but by aligning ourselves with the One who knows our hearts better than we do.
Creative Prompt:
Draw or paint your own “threshold” scene — a door or gate that represents a letting go. Include elements that symbolise both grief and new hope. Let your emotions guide the colours and textures.
Closing Prayer:
Father, thank You for the doors You close, even when I don’t understand. Help me to release the grip of what was never mine to hold, and open my heart to what You are preparing for me. Give me courage to walk through new doors with faith, knowing Your plans are always rooted in love. Lead me into places of truth, healing, and belonging.
In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
There are times in life when our hearts ache not from what we've lost, but from what we never truly had — the unspoken dreams, the almost-relationships, the promise that shimmered just beyond reach. It's in these spaces of silent mourning that we realise: we were clinging to potential, not presence.
That old, weathered door in the garden is such a tender picture of this process. The peeling paint, the creaking hinge — it's not perfect, but it's open. And beyond it? Light. Growth. New beginnings.
God, in His mercy, often allows certain doors to remain shut, or never fully open, because He knows what our hearts need. Not just what they want in the moment, but what will truly nourish and sustain us in the long run. When something or someone doesn’t choose us, it's not always rejection. Sometimes, it’s redirection. A mercy in disguise.
Letting go isn’t weakness; it’s sacred strength. It’s choosing to trust that what's meant for us will come — not by striving, but by aligning ourselves with the One who knows our hearts better than we do.
Creative Prompt:
Draw or paint your own “threshold” scene — a door or gate that represents a letting go. Include elements that symbolise both grief and new hope. Let your emotions guide the colours and textures.
Closing Prayer:
Father, thank You for the doors You close, even when I don’t understand. Help me to release the grip of what was never mine to hold, and open my heart to what You are preparing for me. Give me the courage to walk through new doors with faith, knowing Your plans are always rooted in love. Lead me into places of truth, healing, and belonging.
In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
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