Beauty in the Interruptions - Wk 4

Word

I don’t like to stop. I like the idea of pausing to reflect, but not enough to take a break. Left to my own devices I’ll keep going until all the gas in my tank is gone. I’ve discovered the hard way that this brand of living takes its toll over time. It affects my health and relationships in every sphere. It weakens the work God has for me in the world and who He desires me to become. And still, fully aware that I’m a man not a machine, most days I steer clear from stopping myself.

Interruptions are a gift, a reminder that the universe doesn’t come to a halt whenever I do. As a son, husband, father, employee, lay pastor, and more, I easily trick myself into being busier and busier. My motivation? An insidious belief that I must perform to be known, loved, and appreciated. This false reality is fueled even more by my propensity toward perfectionism. Without interruptions, I would run myself into the ground. Without divine interruptions, I would be lost forever.

And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but are yourself lost or destroyed? Luke 9:25 NLT

The Holy Spirit had me stumble upon Luke 9:25 several years ago. It’s essential to faith formation, and, in context, this verse speaks to evangelism and salvation. Rather than shelve Jesus’ words in systematic theology, God used it to interrupt me with one of its myriad applications. My eyes were opened and my heart was convicted. What if “gain the whole world” sums up my insecure desire to perform everything perfectly? And what impact, according to this passage, will my detrimental drive have on my soul? I don’t recall where I was when this truth hit me, but it was clearly a divine interruption.

Taking a forced break to peer into this piece of Scripture changed me. The Spirit’s divine interruption through Luke 9:25 illuminated my inner anxieties, called out my outward behaviors, reset my priorities, and gave me an anchor to revisit when I allow perfectionism to get the best of me.

I still burn the proverbial candle at both ends much of the time. Too often I keep going well past my God-given capacities and circadian rhythm. But, I’m not who I was before the Holy Spirit graciously tripped me up on His truth. Today my soul is much more sensitive to being interrupted and welcoming it as a gift.

Meal

My family and I, like many others, look forward to Taco Tuesday (or Thursday, Saturday, Monday, any day really!). Beyond the food itself, we enjoy the extended time it takes to prepare and the process of building our own creations around the dinner table. Taco Tuesday comes with extra interruptions simply because we have to ask one another to pass the tortillas, meat, cheese, lettuce, sour cream, tomatoes, onions, salsa, and whatever else we put in little bowls that evening. For a family made up of mostly firstborns, this exercise in slowing down and asking for help grows our patience, servanthood, and gratitude. And, rather than focus on perfection, Taco Tuesday gives me the opportunity to let creativity and community soar instead of trying to go fast and get everything right on my own.

Music

Acoustic guitar music soothes my soul. I was interrupted by Trace Bundy’s album, Adapt, a few years back and listen to it frequently when I need to slow down or stay focused. “Moon Rise” is the final track on this amazing work of art. Perhaps God will use it as a divine interruption in your life as much as it has in mine.

“Moon Rise” by Tracy Bundy (Album: Adapt, 2004)

https://open.spotify.com/track/0Fr9MMsSmrzBn4UylcLPjq

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJzS0haYB04

Prayer

Jesus, you say “come to me” and give no parameters for who, when, why, or how. You welcome interruptions from anyone at anytime and for any reason. Forgive me for trying to keep the world around me running through my performance and perfectionism. Thank you for interrupting me with your divine grace and truth. Remind me frequently to pause, stop, reflect, and change course so I can love You and others, and even myself, as You do. Amen.

Time

There’s a difference between distractions and interruptions. This week, ask God make it clear when He is divinely interrupting you for the sake of your soul. Read and reflect on Matthew 11:28-30. What holds you back from slowing down to approach Christ when you’re overwhelmed with opportunities, obligations, and obsessions? Set aside time each day to invite Jesus’ much needed interruptions as a gift.

Beauty in the Interruptions | Dan Lovaglia

Beauty in the Interruptions - Wk 3

Word

When I was a junior in college, I lived with six friends in a shabby but comfortable house just a block off campus. While the ceiling of my basement bedroom did nothing to dampen the sound of my music-major roommates’ practicing in the room above, I do miss the place. For a few months, at least, it was home.

One surprisingly quiet evening toward the end of the spring semester, I took a break from studying and came upstairs to get something to eat. There in the kitchen was one of my roommates, a friend since my first week at the university, pacing the kitchen in a sweat, his face flushed, his phone to his ear. He kept repeating phrases like, “Where is he?” and “What happened?”

“Is he ok?”

“Is he alive?”

I stood to one side of the room, leaning against the cabinets. He didn’t seem to notice I was there until he hung up the phone, until he turned to me pale and looked not at but through me. “What’s going on?” I said.

“My brother,” he replied. “He tried to—”

We hurried to my car and began a three-hour drive south, which I (though shaken) was in a better state to make than he. As I drove past streetlights reflected on wet pavement, my friend called hospitals and begged for information. He had no idea where his brother was or what condition he was in.

Finally, half-way there, we received a call. He was alive.

When I think of interruptions, I often think of things that get in the way, that distract from what I “should” or “want to” be doing. But that night, I felt no hesitation at placing time between my plans and, well, my plans. Something jolted me out of myself, and my focus moved to that which was truly important. As it happens, it was the last meaningful time I spent with my friend.

Interruptions echo our own brokenness while providing opportunities for reflection, reconceptualization, and change. They are breaks in the seeming (or desired) continuity of our own plans, not-always-subtle reminders that the true continuity of life—of life everlasting—stems from His plan and His alone. I consider this when I sit working on schoolwork or planning lessons, when my children crawl into my lap and want to point out letters on my keyboard. These moments are “breaks between” my plans and my plans, and what interrupts is often, I’ve found, most important, most meaningful.

Music

At every opportunity that arises, I share Death Cab for Cutie’s song “Title and Registration.” In it, Benjamin Gibbard sings about a sorrowful interruption to his own plans: As he “was searching for some legal document” in the glove compartment of his car, Gibbard recalls, he “stumbled upon pictures [he’d] tried to forget.” These pictures, from (the lyrics suggest) a failed relationship, cause him to recall the love lost between himself and the person to whom the lyrics are addressed.

While the song is absolutely a lament, the event described provides Gibbard an opportunity to reflect upon and process—rather than repress—the relationship and its end. The discovery described in “Title and Registration” interrupts Gibbard’s attempts to forget and provides him room for lamentation, which is made all the more meaningful by the music that accompanies his words.

https://youtu.be/1XmbvfxMiUE

Meal

Besides being both a student and a teacher with his own interests and occupations beyond the classroom, I have been blessed with two incredibly curious children and a wonderful, multi-talented wife who is active in our church and our community. We balance so many activities and interests that interruption is, for us, inevitable.

That is why one of my favorite meals to make is a simple concoction we created years ago, before we had kids, when life was different but just as busy.

Ingredients

-Chicken breasts (3-4)

-Bell peppers (2; green, yellow, or orange)

-Red onion (1)

-Large tomatoes (2)

-Vegetable farfalle or rigatoni (1 box; typically 12-13oz)

-Choice of dressing (we typically make our own vinaigrette, but ranch works just as well)

Process

Brush chicken breasts with olive oil and season lightly with ground pepper. Bake according to directions (changes, obviously, depending on whether breasts are frozen or fresh). While chicken is baking, cook pasta; rinse cooked pasta with cold water immediately, drain, and place pasta in large bowl.

Chop bell peppers and onion; cut tomatoes into wedges. Place vegetables into bowl with pasta and mix.

Cube or slice cooked chicken depending on preference and place in bowl with other ingredients. Mix. Place bowl with all ingredients except dressing in refrigerator for at least one hour. Once chilled, serve in small bowls, mixing dressing into each small bowl immediately before serving.

What makes this dish especially wonderful is that its preparation can be done bit-by-bit over the course of a few hours (or even done a day ahead), allowing ample time for interruptions—whatever their source. Simply toss into a large bowl whatever has finished or has been cut up, cover with plastic wrap, and throw it in the refrigerator until you can come back to finish making the rest.

Prayer

Heavenly Father,

Help me to recognize the difference between

My plan and Your plan,

Interruptions and endings,

Desires and needs,

And to shift my focus

To that which is most meaningful,

To that which glorifies.

Amen

Time

What often makes interruptions so troubling is our belief that time is limited. How often, when faced with distractions, will we say “I don’t have time for this”? I ask—of you, of myself—time for what?

What beauty may come from the serendipitous distraction? I intend to find out.

Beauty in the Interruptions
by David Alan Smith
dalansmith26@gmail.com

Beauty in the Interruptions - Wk 2

Word

It had already been a frustrating day. My workload had overflowed the boundaries of my working day and spilled over into the after-school hours when my three children were home. It was a cold, grey January day, with a heavy wind that cut through layers of clothing and drove children inside. All theoretical constraints on TV screens and digital devices had been set aside, and I could hear the noise of multiple game and video soundtracks through my office door as I desperately sifted through and edited other people’s words via an online interface, trying to meet my deadlines. I had too much to do and too little time, and I couldn’t afford any interruptions.

That’s when the lights went out.

The screen in front of me blinked and my work disappeared into the darkness, along with every other device in the house. My children whined and groaned as their shows and games faded away. They clamored at me, asking what happened? How long would the lights be off? What could they do?

I put my hands over my face, overwhelmed. My oldest son shushed the younger two. “Let Mama think, you guys!” As they cuddled in next to me to wait for my answers to their questions, a soft silence emerged. The ever-present background hum of modern, wired life was gone. I could hear my children breathing and the movements of the wind outside, sweeping past the houses and through the trees, beating against creaking window frames and doors. But in between those distinct sounds was…silence. And with it, an unexpected peace.

How long had I been waiting for that silence, not knowing it was what I needed? It wasn’t on any of my scribbled to-do lists or blocked into my Google calendar. I hadn’t realized I needed it; I certainly didn’t think I had time for it. I’d been stumbling through my day distracted and preoccupied with everything I had to do, everything for which I felt responsible, especially the three children God gave me—children that I don’t think I’d seen clearly all day.

I squinted at them in the dim light then, and was struck by their reality, with the weight of their presence. I was bowled over, all of a sudden, with the enormity of the privilege of sharing my life with these small people, each a universe in themselves, each unique, each irreplaceable! How beautiful, how awe-inspiring! And how strange it was to see so much more clearly in the dark!

Something inside me softened then, and I surrendered to the quiet. “Let’s get some candles,” I whispered to the kids, and we set off scattering points of light around the house. We giggled as we made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for our dinner, and the house filled with laughter as we attempted to play a board game in the flickering, dim light. Finally, we sat down, teeth brushed and pajamas on, to read a chapter of The Hobbit together with the one working flashlight.

Sitting in the dark and the quiet of my daughter’s room that night, watching the candle flame on her windowsill, I was struck by memories of other darkened spaces, of candles flickering during countless Easter Vigil masses. Memories of

the smell of candlewax,
and incense,
the weight of the dark, lifted
into shadows and shapes
by the sharing flame and
the quiet sounds of bodies shifting

Every year I look forward to that liturgy, but here was that peace, in my own home, on a midwinter night, shedding light on the beauty of my ordinary life.

Meal

Sometimes a simple meal, shared without fuss, is the best of all. For a twist on the tried and true PB&J, share this pan-fried version with your loved ones. Best with a glass of milk and lots of love. http://www.parenting.com/article/fried-peanut-butter-jelly-picky-eaters

Music

Lead, Kindly Light
Audrey Assad
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=piUDbCtgymw

Prayer

Lead, kindly Light! Break through the busyness and anxieties of my day, and teach me to see the beauty and wonder of the souls around me. Thank you for filling this world with the good of your creation. Help me to see it always in the light of your love. Amen.

Time

Look for the moments that interrupt the rhythm of your day—time spent waiting in line, at a crosswalk, eating a meal, driving to work, or preparing for sleep. Leave your phone in your pocket; let yourself be in this unrepeatable, unique moment instead of rushing to fill it. Who do you see? Try to extend a genuine smile, greeting, or small act of service to somebody you would normally overlook.

Beauty in the Interruptions – Kate Cousino

Beauty in the Interruptions - Wk 1

Word

Each morning we wake up enveloped in an assumption of well-being – that of course we will breathe another breath; of course we will have a bite to eat before work; of course work (with its paycheck) will be there waiting for us.

But then assumption is shattered by interruption – a rude hiccup in the rhythm of well-being.

Perhaps the work is lost, and with it the paycheck, and perhaps with it, that small bite to eat to start the day. And before we know it, we’re pleading before God through snot and tears. But oddly enough, this interruption is often not the one that bothers us most. What bothers us more is when in our pleading we feel a pinprick of hope that God is about to reboot the rhythm of well-being, only to seemingly pull back and away. The company that seemed right on the edge of offering us a new job has “decided to go with someone else.” And now our renewal has been interrupted. Where’s the beauty in such madness – the madness of not one but two interruptions?

Luke 8:40-56 is a curious moment in the life and ministry of Jesus. Here we have a father, Jairus, whose assumption of well-being has been shattered – the richness of life interrupted by the dark circumstance of a dying daughter – so he pleads for renewal. And here we have Jesus, willing to whisper healing – in fact he’s on his way to the little girl’s house. But then here we have Jesus stopping short of his destination, turning to chat with a woman who has tugged at the fringe of his garment. And here we have someone elbowing their way in to the scene to inform Jairus there is no sense in Jesus coming to his home, for his daughter has died. And so here we have Jairus, a man caught up in the madness of not one but two interruptions.

Granted, we know the rest of the story – the beautiful turn toward resurrection it takes. But stand with Jairus for a spell in the moment of the second interruption. It’s easy to imagine him staring daggers through the woman who tugged at the fringe of Jesus’ garment – the source of more interruption. And let him stare, because if some beauty is to be found, it will be found in her and her story. Here we have a woman who twelve years ago stumbled into awful interruption – a sudden onset of hemorrhaging she has endured for as many years as Jairus’ daughter has been alive. Here we have a woman who has been on the precipice of healing at the hands of the world’s best physicians, only to see each remedy fall short – a litany of “second interruptions” worse than the first. But here we have a woman whose faith has endured, culminating in clutching the fringe of a miracle-worker’s garment. Here we have a woman healed (finally).

But not just “a woman;” Jesus says, “a daughter.”

Was it a revelatory moment for Jairus, the father of a dying daughter – the moment Jesus called the woman “daughter”? It should have been. And it should be for us as well. After all, it’s the only place in all four accounts of Jesus’ life that he ever calls a woman “daughter.” How can this be anything other than Jesus subtly, yet piercingly saying, “All about me are sons and daughters pleading for the cessation of interruption – begging the Father to reboot the rhythm of well-being.” And so wherever, whenever, and with whomever brokenness is put right – when “she” gains the healing or “someone else” gains the job, all while “I” wait a minute more (or more) – it is a beautiful thing worthy not of anger or jealousy or rage, but praise.

Meal

The theme of “having to wait” is lurking about in Luke 8:40-56, so perhaps a good slow-cooker meal is in order. My wife and I are fans of this take on tortilla soup: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/89539/slow-cooker-chicken-tortilla-soup/?internalSource=hub%20recipe&referringContentType=search%20results&clickId=cardslot%202.

And if you’re wise, you’ll make a little cilantro rice to go with it: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/238489/copycat-chipotle-cilantro-lime-brown-rice/?internalSource=hub%20recipe&referringContentType=search%20results&clickId=cardslot%2016.

Music

For nearly 15 years now, I’ve found myself returning again and again to Brian Doerksen’s beautiful look at Psalm 13. It’s a haunting, but courageous statement about waiting expectantly for renewal. Give it a listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kR6z0mWpR8A.

Prayer

Father, all about me are sons and daughters pleading for the cessation of interruption – begging you to reboot the rhythm of well-being in their lives. I, too, beg and plead. But as I do so, give me the eyes to see where renewal has come for my brothers and sisters. What’s more, give me the right spirit to celebrate with them – and thus celebrate you – even as I continue to wait. Because wherever, whenever, and with whomever brokenness is put right, it is a beautiful thing worthy not of anger or jealousy or rage, but praise. Amen.

Time

Take a moment to consider where there is interruption in your life. Now identify a “son or daughter” who has experienced the same interruption as you, but has received the renewal you await. Thank God for their renewal. What’s more, celebrate their renewal with them over a meal (like, tortilla soup).

- Brian Lowery