A Door Ajar

A Door Ajar

By Elisa Morgan

There it stands: a door ajar. It's open, but not. It's closed, but not.

I push to open it, testing the invitation to enter. What is on the other side? What ideas and relationships? What discoveries and belongingness? What new directions that might lead to new contributions?

Yet, when I push on it, rather than swing widely open, it still stands ajar.

I tug to close it. If it won't open, maybe I should shut it, removing the apparent opportunity from my gaze. That would be easier. I could focus just here and now rather than wondering what might lie beyond the gap between open and shut.

Yet, when I pull it to close, it still stands ajar.

My efforts make no difference.

It stands: a door ajar.

Waiting times are my least favorite times. Even after many decades of actively working to wait well. The first book I ever wrote was entitled, I'm Tired of Waiting. It evolved as I processed the many waitings of my then young life. Waiting for a job. Waiting for a spouse. Waiting for a child. Waiting for those I love to love Jesus. As I typed my feelings and discoveries out for myself and also for others, I came to understand the ongoingness of waiting. We are always waiting. So instead of being tired of waiting, I came to value the practice and posture of waiting for how very much it expresses the extent to which we trust the One we are waiting for.

You'd think I'd be better at the waiting game by now. Sometimes I am. Sometimes I see waiting for what it is: trusting. And bend to its discipline. But in other moments, when I see what I want and believe it to be best for me - and honestly best for God's work in his world - I waver in my trusting and therefore in my waiting.

Really? I'm here again? Before this door ajar? It would make so much more sense if it opened wide to my touch, welcoming me ahead. Not wasting time and energy wondering. It would make so much more sense for it to slam shut, punctuating my options with a firm "no." Not inserting myself where I'm not wanted, needed, supposed to go.

I put my hand to the door ajar and push. And pull. And kick. And wedge my gaze to peer through its gap. And turn my back to forget it exists. And take a walk around the block to take my mind off it. And return to find it still standing: a door ajar. And slump in resignation.

The way we wait reveals the extent to which we trust the One we're waiting for. Even in front of a door ajar. No, make that especially in front of a door ajar.

Elisa Morgan is the cohost of Discover the Word. Her books include Hello, Beauty Full, The Beauty of Broken and She Did What She Could. Connect with Elisa @elisa_morgan on Twitter, on Facebook and elisamorganauthor on Instagram.

© Elisa Morgan 2020

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