You have to come to your closed doors before you get to your open

In these words, Joel Osteen speaks to the timeless rhythm of struggle and triumph, of rejection and redemption — the eternal dance between the closed doors of fate and the open doors of destiny. “You have to come to your closed doors before you get to your open doors… What if you knew you had to go through 32 closed doors before you got to your open door?” This is not merely an encouragement to endure hardship; it is a revelation about the hidden purpose of delay, the sacred logic of disappointment. Each closed door, Osteen tells us, is not a denial of destiny but a necessary passage toward it.

In the ancient spirit, this teaching echoes the wisdom of the sages who understood that the path of attainment is always preceded by the path of trial. No soul ever reached greatness without first being tested by the gates that would not yield. The closed door humbles, shapes, and purifies the one who knocks. It strips away arrogance and impatience, leaving only faith. The open door, when it comes, is not a reward for luck but for perseverance — for the one who refused to turn back when the world said “no.” Thus, Osteen’s words are a modern parable of persistence, a reminder that even divine purpose unfolds in increments, one obstacle at a time.

Imagine, as he asks, that you knew your journey would contain thirty-two closed doors before you reached the one that would finally open. How different your heart would feel with that knowledge! When you met rejection, you would not despair, but rejoice — for each “no” would bring you closer to your destined “yes.” Every defeat would be a marker of progress, not failure. This is the alchemy of faith: transforming disappointment into encouragement, delay into momentum. The wise traveler, knowing this, blesses the closed doors and walks onward without bitterness.

Consider the story of Thomas Edison, who was said to have failed a thousand times before perfecting the light bulb. To most, such failure would seem unbearable; but to Edison, each failed experiment was simply another door closed, another step closer to the one that would open. He did not curse the rejections; he counted them as progress. “I have not failed,” he said, “I’ve just found a thousand ways that won’t work.” Like Osteen’s teaching, this is the heart of perseverance — the conviction that destiny is never denied, only delayed, and that each delay carries you forward if you refuse to stop walking.

The origin of Osteen’s quote rests in the spiritual tradition of endurance that spans all faiths and philosophies. In Christianity, patience is the proof of faith; in Buddhism, suffering is the path to enlightenment; in Stoicism, adversity is the forge of virtue. Osteen, speaking to the modern soul lost in frustration, reawakens this ancient wisdom in simple language: that setbacks are sacred milestones, not signs of failure. When one door closes, it does not mean the path has ended — only that you are being guided to a better one.

The lesson is clear: Do not despair when life denies you entry. Do not curse the locked doors or question your worth. Each closed door is a teacher, each rejection a purifying flame. Count them not as losses, but as steps in the sacred arithmetic of destiny. For if you endure, if you keep your heart open and your feet moving, the door that is meant for you cannot remain closed forever.

Therefore, walk as the ancients walked — with faith unshaken by delay, with gratitude even for disappointment, with vision beyond the visible. Let every closed door strengthen your resolve, not weaken it. Say to yourself, “Another one gone — I am closer now.” For in truth, it is not the open door that defines greatness, but the courage to keep knocking when the hallways of life grow long and dark. And when, at last, your destined door swings open, you will know that every lock, every wait, and every silence was guiding you toward that moment — the moment when your persistence becomes your victory, and your faith becomes sight.