“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.'”
– Isaiah 30:21
There was a season in my life when I believed I had God’s will all figured out. I had prayed earnestly, felt that unmistakable peace, and watched as circumstances seemed to align perfectly. The path before me appeared clear and well-lit. I was certain I knew exactly where God was leading me.
Then the door closed.
Not quietly, but with a resounding finality that left me standing in the hallway of uncertainty, confused and questioning everything I thought I understood about hearing God’s voice.
Like Paul and Silas on that second missionary journey, I had to learn that God’s “no” is not a rejection, it’s a redirection. They intended to preach in Asia, yet the Holy Spirit prevented them. They turned toward Bithynia, and again found their way blocked. I imagine them in those moments, perhaps frustrated, certainly bewildered. Weren’t they doing exactly what Jesus commanded? Wasn’t spreading the gospel the right thing?
I’ve stood in that same bewilderment. I’ve felt that same tension between knowing God’s general will, that we should serve Him, use our gifts, walk in faith, and understanding His specific will for this moment, this decision, this crossroads.
Isaiah 30:21 became my anchor during those confusing times. God doesn’t leave us to wander aimlessly. He speaks. He guides. But sometimes His guidance comes not as a clear path forward, but as a blocked passage that forces us to turn around and listen more carefully. His voice is behind us, steady, constant, redirecting our steps even when we can’t see the full picture ahead.
Surrendering My Timeline
James 4:15 confronted me with an uncomfortable truth: “Instead, you ought to say, ‘If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.'” How often had I made plans without that crucial “if”? How many times had I told God what I intended to do, assuming His blessing would automatically follow my determination?
Learning to preface my plans with “if it is the Lord’s will” wasn’t just about adding spiritual language to my vocabulary. It required a fundamental shift in how I approached decision-making.
Transformation came through daily practices:
- Surrendering my certainty each morning, holding plans loosely while acknowledging that I see dimly while God sees completely
- Listening more than declaring, allowing prayer to shift from presenting my agenda to sitting quietly in His presence
- Trusting His timing over my urgency, recognizing that closed doors were invitations to wait and develop character I would need for what lay ahead
The most counterintuitive lesson came when I finally understood that God’s open doors don’t always lead to smooth paths. When Paul wrote to the Corinthians about a wide door opening alongside many adversaries, he was describing what I had experienced but couldn’t yet name: the paradox of divine opportunity wrapped in difficulty.
I had assumed that walking in God’s will meant everything would flow easily. Doors would open, provisions would appear, people would support the vision. Instead, I found myself like Paul and Silas, stripped, beaten, sitting in a prison of circumstances that seemed to contradict everything I believed about following God.
Yet it was precisely in that metaphorical prison that I witnessed God’s most profound work. The trials weren’t evidence that I had missed His will; they were confirmation that I was exactly where He wanted me. The Lord was using affliction to test my faith, teach me dependence, develop godly character, and equip me to comfort others who would walk similar paths.
This journey of learning to discern God’s will has become less about finding a single perfect decision and more about cultivating a posture of ongoing surrender. The core message resonates deeply: true fulfillment comes from aligning one’s path with God’s voice, not from the certainty of knowing every step before we take it.
My daily practice now includes:
- Morning stillness before God. Before I check my phone or make my plans, I sit with Scripture and ask, “What do You want me to know today? Where do You want to redirect me?”
- Holding plans with open hands. I make decisions prayerfully, but I remain flexible, understanding that closed doors are God’s kindness, not His punishment.
- Looking for His work in adversity. When obstacles arise, my first question has shifted from “Did I miss God’s will?” to “What is God revealing through this difficulty?”
- Remembering past redirections. Like Paul eventually reaching Asia through a circuitous route, I can now see how God’s closed doors led me to exactly where I needed to be, in His perfect timing.
Hearing the Voice
Today, when I face uncertainty about which path to take, I return to Isaiah 30:21. God’s will isn’t a distant destination I might miss if I make one wrong turn. It’s His voice behind me, beside me, within me, constantly guiding, gently redirecting, faithfully leading.
Whether I turn to the right or to the left, His voice remains steady: “This is the way; walk in it.”
The closed doors I once feared have become some of my greatest testimonies to God’s wisdom. He sees what I cannot see. He knows what I cannot know. And when He closes a door, it’s not to frustrate my purpose but to fulfill His purpose, which is always better, always deeper, always more transformative than anything I could have planned for myself.
So now, whether turning to the right or to the left, facing open doors or closed ones, my prayer remains constant: “If it is the Lord’s will, I will walk this way. Guide my steps. Speak Your truth. And help me trust that Your ‘no’ is just as loving as Your ‘yes.'”
The path He wants me to take isn’t always the path I would have chosen. But it’s always, without exception, the path worth taking. And in the smallest, most genuine moments of listening for His voice, I discover that the journey itself, with all its detours and redirections, has been the destination all along.
MindWolves 