Ever Feel Like God Says Go—Then Closes the Door?

It can feel like God says GO—then closes the door. Makes a way only to press pause or send you in another direction. And here, on the brink of possibility and surrender, you question whether you heard Him right. If you ever hear Him right.

I’ve been there when I thought I’d spend the rest of my life anywhere but the United States. When we thought we’d complete our family by adopting brothers. When I thought I was starting a rest-of-my-life career at my dream university.

And now, as I question what’s next and whether it will look anything like what I expected.

Maybe that’s where you are today too. You thought you understood God’s plan. Were heading in the right direction.

Your obedience has looked like risky yeses. Bold trust. Pressing in despite the cost.

But it appears God’s changed His mind. Overlooked you. Abandoned you.

It’s like stepping from solid ground into a ground-level cloud. Sharp-edged clarity becomes muddied with uncertainty. You see your feet but not where your next steps will land.

When God Closes the Door

Pauses and re-directs can leave you hanging on the edge of hope. Unsettled. Anxious. Disappointed.

They can cause you to question God’s character, plan, intention. Doubt your standing with Him.

And then, in the hallow space of fog and unknown, He gives you a hug through someone else. Just to remind you He’s kind by nature. I’ve witnessed that too.

Maybe we miss the beauty of the fog because we’re bent on getting somewhere faster. We don’t like to wait. Or be wrong.

Yet I need to grow both patience and humility—lessons learned best in the densest fog.

Fog teaches me to slow down. Pay better attention. See breathtaking creativity in the delay.

What if the doors God closes are merely invitations to pause in awe and wonder? Because I rush if I’m left to my own timeline. Trust myself unless I come face-to-face with my own insufficiency.

Four Gifts Only Fog Can Give

Fog takes me back to early morning drives down an icy Minnesota interstate. In Minnesota, weather rarely deters you from showing up. You just leave early, take it a little slower, and keep going.

I grew to love the commute. Especially the fog. It was ethereal and light, like a slice of heaven. Somehow it made it easier to talk with God.

But you quickly lose what you don’t practice, as I discovered with speaking Spanish, driving a manual transmission, driving through fog. So let’s head to Minnesota, you and I. I saved the passenger seat for you in my maroon Ford Tempo with crank windows and a “Fall Madly In Love with God” sign duct-taped in a back window. There’s no a/c, but I promise the heat still works.

Let’s remember together what fog can gift us.

1. Fog Minimizes Distraction

The less distance you can see ahead, the more you zero in on what you can make out. Your senses are hyperaware as you memorize where you last saw headlights, track the lines in the road. You tune out everything you don’t need to think about. And less distraction is a gift to our overworked minds.

We find clarity when we’re not distracted because there’s less competing for God’s voice.

2. Fog Builds Trust

The times I’ve stepped through one open door only to find uncertainty, I’ve had to lean hard into God. Take my questions and frustrations to Him. Get honest. Talk to Him even when it felt like work.

But those conversations chiseled through my self-doubts and doubts about God. Because of them, I learned to trust that I could always count on God.

3. Fog Grows Character

A foggy morning will test your dependability in ways easier mornings can’t. Will you show up to work when it’s risky and inconvenient? Will you make it to your first class on time even if you have to leave thirty minutes early? I’m grateful now for the grit and character grown through weathering Minnesota winters.

4. Fog Inspires Awe

Finally, if I move past being annoyed or full of self-pity when God changes my direction, presses pause on something I thought He’d promised, or says no when everything pointed to another yes, I find something holy about fog. Heaven seems to hover, nearer than our breath. God in His glory bends to listen, to welcome, to comfort us.

Share What You’re Learning In the Fog

We talk about sharing the God’s-still-working-something-out-in-me stories. And maybe the story you need to share with a friend, co-worker, or neighbor is what you’re learning in the fog. How God hugs you right after you’ve blamed Him for closing the wrong door. Gives you a distraction-free season so you can hear Him more easily, trust Him more fully, imitate Him more readily, praise Him more willingly.

I know that closed door is hard to swallow. But it’s not the end of the story. There’s more. Just wait!

May we adopt Psalm 5:3 as our prayer:

At each and every sunrise you will hear my voice as I prepare my sacrifice of prayer to you. Every morning I lay out the pieces of my life on the altar and wait for your fire to fall upon my heart.
TPT

Just a friend over here in your corner,

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