What door has closed in your life? It may not be an ending at all, but a redirection. Whatever the day after tomorrow holds, may we be found trusting, praying, and singing;
Things end. Sometimes an ending brings sadness or grief, but things also end so that new things can begin. The four seasons speak plainly about this: out of the blossoms and plants that fade, new blossoms and new growth rise in their place. If school never ended, when would we have the opportunity to apply what we learned? (Or to repay the loans we took out?) We must orient our minds and spirits to embrace endings if we want to receive the new beginnings that follow them.
Consider the apostle Paul. On his second missionary journey he had a plan, and it was a good one: take the gospel into Asia. But the Holy Spirit forbade it (Acts 16:6). So Paul turned toward Bithynia, and again “the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them” (Acts 16:7 ESV). Two doors closed, one after the other. I can imagine Paul wondering what he was supposed to do next.
Then, at Troas, a vision came in the night: a man pleading, “Come over to Macedonia and help us” (Acts 16:9 ESV). The closed doors were not the end of the mission. They were the road to Philippi, to Lydia, and to the first church on European soil. Paul’s plan had ended, and God’s plan was only beginning.
Scripture does not pretend that endings don’t hurt. “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning” (Psalm 30:5 ESV). And Jesus said, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Matthew 5:4 ESV).
It is important to read the Beatitudes as a whole (Matthew 5:3-12) and not only as individual verses. Together they describe an awareness of greater things, and in particular the Kingdom of Heaven. Jesus speaks of the loss of earthly things and a refocusing on Kingdom possibilities. That refocusing leads us to embrace new things, not all of which are tangible or earthly. Paul describes it this way: we look “not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:18 ESV). In times of loss, we must ask God for eyes to see the things that are unseen.
In January I was diagnosed with multiple system atrophy (MSA-c). I had written to friends and family about how grateful I was for the diagnosis. There is no cure, but knowing what we were facing helped us plan my activity and my diet, and it opened the possibility of enrolling in a clinical trial. The week after the diagnosis I contacted every site running a trial, and each one was closed to new participants. I praised the Lord when I heard it! I was not as frustrated as I could have been, because my trust is not in a clinical trial. It is in the God who raises the dead and created the universe.
In May, a site in Pittsburgh reopened and invited me to join the Teva TOPAS trial. Several trials were underway at the time, all targeting the same underlying pathology: the abnormal aggregation of a protein called alpha-synuclein in the brain. With a little help from Claude, I had compared three of them using a webinar presentation from Dr. McFarland (McFarland, 2026). Of the three, ours had reported far less than the others. I hoped that was simply because the research was still early.
This week the call came from the Site Director. The drug company is shutting the trial down because it is not seeing the medication work.
Immediately I began looking for other trials. I contacted another site studying the safety and efficacy of multiple intravenous administrations of allogeneic stem cells (HB-adMSCs) for MSA. The site director wrote back to say that because I had participated in another MSA study, I must wait one year from the date I discontinued the previous one. It occurred to me that this is probably standard protocol for future participation. Still, I found myself wondering what this ending might mean for our future.
So what do we do? There is always an opportunity to pout and feel sorry for ourselves. But self-pity is not the mourning Jesus blesses. The mourning of the Beatitudes turns toward God and is comforted by Him. Self-pity turns inward and leads to stagnant growth, resentment, and bitterness. I resist the urge to stop trusting God so that I can sit and complain about my circumstances. How many times can I count that God answered prayers, some of which I never even voiced? How many times have we asked God for something, only to have Him give us something better?
I also try to keep my circumstances in perspective. I have been watching videos of children who are blind, and of people facing cancer and severe physical disabilities, who are living with remarkable courage. Suffering is part of the human condition, and mine is only one of its many forms. I have a beautiful wife, five healthy children, grandchildren, and more blessings than I could have imagined. I also hold an unshakable faith in a sovereign God who allows suffering into our lives so that we might rely more fully on Him. The Bible is filled with people who endured incredible suffering. For some, like Job, the circumstances turned around. For others, they did not.
There are other trials coming up, according to the Site Director, and she will put my name on a list. I want my name on another list: the Lamb’s Book of Life (Revelation 21:27). That means I must get busy living the way God calls me to live, trusting Him completely and not looking out for myself only. I cannot lean on my own understanding (Proverbs 3:5-6). I choose to lean on who God is and on what He has said He will do. He has never been found to ignore a promise, and I do not believe He will begin now.
I did not sign up for this disorder to become the poster child for how Christians are supposed to handle tribulation. But the Bible gives us plenty of examples: Job, Paul, Peter, and the apostles who gave their lives because they trusted God rather than their circumstances. I want the faith of Polycarp, Bishop of Smyrna, who, when his life was threatened over his service to Christ, famously said, “Fourscore and six years have I served Him, and He has never done me injury” (Graves, 2026).
Paul’s story did not end at Troas. In Philippi he was beaten and thrown into prison. At midnight, in a place no one would choose, he and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God (Acts 16:25). That same night, a jailer and his entire household came to faith (Acts 16:25-34).
I do not know what lies on the other side of this closed door. It may be a one-year wait, a new trial, or something I have not yet imagined. But I know the One “who opens and no one will shut, who shuts and no one will open” (Revelation 3:7 ESV), and I know that midnight is not the end of the story. Joy comes with the morning.
What door has closed in your life? It may not be an ending at all, but a redirection. Whatever the day after tomorrow holds, may we be found trusting, praying, and singing.
Graves, D. (2026). Article #7: Popes and Patriarchs. Christian History Institute.
McFarland, N. (2026, July 28). MSA Clinical Trials: Where We Are Today. Mission MSA clinical trials webinar transcript. Retrieved from YouTube
Email Us | Reader Friendly | Comments
