Interruptions as Invitations

 

“I used to get irritated by interruptions to my work until I realized that interruptions were my work.” — Henri J. M. Nouwen

Most of us begin our days with a plan.

We have tasks to accomplish, places to go, emails to answer, appointments to keep, and lists to check off.  We may also have in our head when and where all these things are going to happen.  

If you're like me, you probably don't leave much margin in your day, so all your plans depend on finishing one thing so you can move on to the next.  

Then someone interrupts us.

A friend calls.

A coworker needs to talk.

A child needs attention.

Someone asks for help at precisely the wrong moment.

Our first instinct is often frustration because interruptions disrupt the day we planned and the timing of everything within it.

I like to think of myself as a free spirit, open to the whims of the universe, able to pivot quickly when the need arises, not bound by the strictures of the plans I have in my head.  

But when the plans and the order of things that I've set my mind on get blown up by the folly of others, I can get pretty crabby.  

I recall in this moment how my middle boy breaking his ankle while riding a skateboard he was told not to ride derailed a family vacation to Disneyland that was already paid for.  

The poor kid not only had to live with that knowledge (and my ire), but also had to start 8th grade in a wheelchair.  

That was a dramatic moment, but I also struggle when I'm interrupted while writing, planning sermons, or working on a class—pretty much anything that requires concentration and creativity.  

But what if some interruptions are actually invitations?

Jesus' ministry is filled with them.

In Mark 5, Jesus is traveling to the home of Jairus, whose daughter is dying. Few missions could seem more urgent. Yet along the way, a woman suffering from years of illness reaches through the crowd and touches Jesus' clothing.

Jesus stops.

From our perspective, she interrupts the story.

From Jesus' perspective, she becomes the story.

Again and again, Jesus notices people others might have hurried past: children, beggars, grieving parents, outsiders, and strangers. He seems remarkably interruptible.

Perhaps that's because Jesus understood something we often forget: people are rarely interruptions to the important work of life. People are the important work.

Of course, healthy boundaries matter. We cannot respond to every need or abandon every responsibility. But sometimes our determination to stay efficient can make us unavailable for the unexpected moments when love is needed most.

Today, someone may interrupt your plans.

Before becoming frustrated, pause.

Look at the person in front of you.

Listen.

Perhaps this moment is not preventing you from doing something important.

Perhaps this moment is something important.

The holiest moment of your day may be the one you never scheduled.

Sometimes an interruption is simply grace arriving without an appointment.

May it be so, and may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you now and always. Amen.  

Prayer

God of unexpected moments, forgive me when I become so focused on my plans that I fail to notice the people around me. Give me wisdom to recognize the difference between distractions and holy interruptions. Make me present, patient, and attentive so that when love calls for my attention, I will be willing to stop. Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. How do you typically respond when someone interrupts your plans?
2. Can you remember an interruption that later became a meaningful or sacred moment?
3. Who might need your unhurried attention today?