Many of us live behind a closed door. Either we don’t want to implicate ourselves with struggle or we have received rejection from an unwilling recipient, so we keep our door tightly closed. We come and go ever so quickly and silently through our closed door, hoping no one caught a glimpse of anything inside, knowing we’d be ruined if our neatly tucked baggage should be exposed. And hoping in desperation for nothing to fall out. If it’s implication we’re concerned about we carefully structure our lives around our prideful lack of transparency and perfect persona, ensuring that outwardly we’re doing everything right and godly. We carry on with life with fake smiles and brave faces, yet inside we’re in a weeping, burdened train wreck. Our fakeness fools most.

Sometimes it feels comfortable to isolate ourselves. No questions have to be answered. No changes need to be made. But while we’re cutting ourselves off from community and the feeling of belonging to someone, we’re cutting ourselves off from seeing God’s comfort, relief and blessings. It’s like the rest of the body trying to have a connection with an amputated limb. It does not know where the limb is. It cannot know what it’s feeling. It does not know the limb’s needs nor how to minister to it.

For most of my life, I’ve never had anyone besides family really want to walk alongside me during a deep trial. In the past it was implied that one should not talk about certain things (keep their door shut). Perhaps sharing was considered complaining or boasting about your troubles or how much worse your life was than another’s. The goal was to carry on as normal as possible. But what happened is make the already lonely road I was walking devastatingly lonelier. It turned tragic. It was full of self-absorption and hopelessness as I carried my burden alone.

Some can’t help but drop a trail of evidence as their struggles are outwardly noticeable. But for those with silent diseases or struggles we can become very good at keeping the door closed. Not allowing any weakness to show. Nothing that might indicate struggle to the typical onlooker. But at some point, the burden cannot be carried any longer. Perhaps the progression grows too big or too obvious. In my case, my body is exhausted and worn, the wellbeing of my family is shaken, and the condition of my house is not as I would want. I cannot hide it anymore and much to my dismay the baggage behind my door is beginning to fall out. (I’ve written a blog to bring awareness of two unfamiliar diseases. It’s hard to understand that which you don’t know. So, if you want to know more, you can read here.)

I want to encourage you to open your door.

I honestly didn’t know what God had for me when I asked for prayer one day. What happens could possibly be more than what you asked for and more than what you thought you needed. When another is willing to minister the result for the struggler is tremendous grace. Grace showing itself in the form of support, help, encouragement and blessing.

We each have a choice. We can glorify ourselves or glorify God. I’ve heard it referred to as being bitter or better. Bringing glory to ourselves invites a big ‘ole pity party of selfishness, bitterness and anger. But when we seek to glorify Him through the trial, He blesses us with a strength, hope, humility, grace and peace which can only come from Him.

When I opened the door to my struggle, they gave of their time to listen. They offered truth from God’s Word, the strength that I lacked, the love I craved and the support I needed.

When our doors of struggle swing, as they’re designed to do, there is amazing opportunity to use the gifts God has given and commanded for us to use. And when the time comes—when the deepness of this struggle has shallowed—I can walk through another’s door of heavy burden. Walking alongside, praying and encouraging and helping them in their time of need.