Sometimes a moment lasts far longer than it has any right to.

When I was young, my father walked to church alone every Sunday. One morning, after watching him leave, I decided to surprise him. I showered, put on my good clothes, straightened my tie, shined my shoes, picked up a Bible, and walked to the church.

I could hear the congregation singing from outside.

Then I pulled on the door.

It would not open.

The building was old, and the wooden doors had settled into their frame. Once they closed, it took more strength than I had to pull them open. But I did not understand that at the time. I stood there trying again and again until one thought settled in my young mind: God did not want me inside.

My father later explained what had happened. He told me the door simply stuck and that my desire to come was what mattered. I heard him, but the feeling of rejection stayed with me.

For years, I stopped reaching for that door.

Looking back now, I understand the truth. God had not rejected me. It was simply an old door and a boy who was not strong enough to open it.

Life took me a long way before I understood the difference.