Are you interruptible like Jesus?

Are you interruptible?

As a dad of four boys, I have found that if I’m not interruptible, my boys will see me as someone they cannot approach at any time for any reason — and I want my boys to know they are safe to approach me with whatever is on their mind and heart.

One of the many things I love about Jesus in the Gospels is how interruptible He was (and is today).

Think about it. Nearly every major moment in Jesus’ ministry happened in the middle of an interruption. He was on His way somewhere, teaching something, or moving toward a purpose — and then someone stepped in, someone called out, someone reached out, someone broke through the crowd. And Jesus didn’t sigh, roll His eyes, or treat them like an inconvenience. He stopped. He listened. He engaged. He cared.

When the woman with the issue of blood reached out and touched His robe, Jesus halted everything and said, “Daughter … your faith has saved you. Go in peace” (Luke 8:48, CSB).

Blind Bartimaeus cried out from the roadside and the crowd tried to silence him, but Jesus stood still and said, “Call him” (Mark 10:49, CSB).

Parents brought their children to Jesus, and while the disciples rebuked them, Jesus corrected His own followers and said, “Let the little children come to me; don’t stop them” (Matthew 19:14, CSB).

When the paralytic’s friends dug through the roof, Jesus didn’t rebuke them for interrupting His teaching — He honored their faith and said, “Son, your sins are forgiven” (Mark 2:5, CSB).

Every interruption became an opportunity for Jesus to reveal the Father’s heart.

If I’m honest, interruptions don’t always feel holy to me. They feel like delays. They feel like detours. They feel like something that pushes against my plans, my pace, and my productivity. But that’s usually because my heart is set on efficiency — not people.

Jesus wasn’t driven by hurry. Let me say that again: Jesus wasn’t driven by hurry. He was driven by love. And His posture reflected the heart behind Philippians 2:4 (CSB): “Everyone should look not to his own interests, but rather to the interests of others.”

Ministry doesn’t just happen in the moments I schedule. Parenting doesn’t just happen when it’s convenient. Loving people rarely happens on our preferred timetable. Some of the most meaningful work God invites us into comes disguised as an interruption.

Here’s the part that always convicts me: Jesus was interruptible not because He lacked purpose, but because He was so confident in the Father’s. He moved slowly enough, intentionally enough, and prayerfully enough to notice people. He lived open-handed, unhurried, and available.

I want that.

I want my boys to grow up knowing their dad wasn’t too busy to be present.

I want my church to know their pastor isn’t too important to be bothered.

I want my neighbors and friends to feel the freedom to approach me without fear of “bad timing.”

So here’s the question I’m asking myself, and maybe it’s one you need as well:

What if the interruption is the assignment?

What if the person knocking on your door, tugging on your sleeve, calling your phone, or stepping into your plans is the very person God is asking you to slow down for?

Think about that.

Being interruptible doesn’t mean living without boundaries. It means living with Jesus’ heart — open, attentive, and willing to let love reorder your plans. After all, Proverbs 16:9 (CSB) reminds us, “A person’s heart plans his way, but the Lord determines his steps.”

Lord, make us more like You — interruptible, compassionate, and present. May we never be so focused on our destination that we miss the people right in front of us.

Are you interruptible?

As a dad of four boys, I have found that if I’m not interruptible, my boys will see me as someone they cannot approach at any time for any reason — and I want my boys to know they are safe to approach me with whatever is on their mind and heart.

One of the many things I love about Jesus in the Gospels is how interruptible He was (and is today).

Think about it. Nearly every major moment in Jesus’ ministry happened in the middle of an interruption. He was on His way somewhere, teaching something, or moving toward a purpose — and then someone stepped in, someone called out, someone reached out, someone broke through the crowd. And Jesus didn’t sigh, roll His eyes, or treat them like an inconvenience. He stopped. He listened. He engaged. He cared.

When the woman with the issue of blood reached out and touched His robe, Jesus halted everything and said, “Daughter … your faith has saved you. Go in peace” (Luke 8:48, CSB).

Blind Bartimaeus cried out from the roadside and the crowd tried to silence him, but Jesus stood still and said, “Call him” (Mark 10:49, CSB).

Parents brought their children to Jesus, and while the disciples rebuked them, Jesus corrected His own followers and said, “Let the little children come to me; don’t stop them” (Matthew 19:14, CSB).

When the paralytic’s friends dug through the roof, Jesus didn’t rebuke them for interrupting His teaching — He honored their faith and said, “Son, your sins are forgiven” (Mark 2:5, CSB).

Every interruption became an opportunity for Jesus to reveal the Father’s heart.

If I’m honest, interruptions don’t always feel holy to me. They feel like delays. They feel like detours. They feel like something that pushes against my plans, my pace, and my productivity. But that’s usually because my heart is set on efficiency — not people.

Jesus wasn’t driven by hurry. Let me say that again: Jesus wasn’t driven by hurry. He was driven by love. And His posture reflected the heart behind Philippians 2:4 (CSB): “Everyone should look not to his own interests, but rather to the interests of others.”

Ministry doesn’t just happen in the moments I schedule. Parenting doesn’t just happen when it’s convenient. Loving people rarely happens on our preferred timetable. Some of the most meaningful work God invites us into comes disguised as an interruption.

Here’s the part that always convicts me: Jesus was interruptible not because He lacked purpose, but because He was so confident in the Father’s. He moved slowly enough, intentionally enough, and prayerfully enough to notice people. He lived open-handed, unhurried, and available.

I want that.

I want my boys to grow up knowing their dad wasn’t too busy to be present.

I want my church to know their pastor isn’t too important to be bothered.

I want my neighbors and friends to feel the freedom to approach me without fear of “bad timing.”

So here’s the question I’m asking myself, and maybe it’s one you need as well:

What if the interruption is the assignment?

What if the person knocking on your door, tugging on your sleeve, calling your phone, or stepping into your plans is the very person God is asking you to slow down for?

Think about that.

Being interruptible doesn’t mean living without boundaries. It means living with Jesus’ heart — open, attentive, and willing to let love reorder your plans. After all, Proverbs 16:9 (CSB) reminds us, “A person’s heart plans his way, but the Lord determines his steps.”

Lord, make us more like You — interruptible, compassionate, and present. May we never be so focused on our destination that we miss the people right in front of us.