Tonight, Pastor Steve talked about Divine Interruptions, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. As I reflect on this year and step into the Christmas season, this message feels especially close to my heart.
Divine interruptions are those moments when life doesn’t just change direction—it feels like it gets completely derailed. When what you planned, prayed for, or expected suddenly isn’t what unfolds. When God interrupts your story in ways that feel confusing, inconvenient, or even painful. All of that has happened this year, and at times it has completely thrown me off the rails. Sitting there listening tonight, I had tears in my eyes because the message felt painfully personal.
Things didn’t go the way I thought they would. Doors I expected to open stayed firmly shut, no matter how hard I pushed. Some seasons felt heavier than I was prepared for—emotionally, spiritually, and physically. There were moments of loss, uncertainty, exhaustion, and deep disappointment. Times when it felt like I was just trying to hold myself together while everything else around me felt unstable.
This year alone, I was interrupted by financial hardship, theft, illness, death, and situations that completely knocked me out of my groove.
I found myself asking God a lot of honest questions this year. Why this? Why now? Why like this? I prayed for clarity and instead sat in waiting. I prayed for things to be fixed, changed, or removed—and instead I had to learn how to endure.
One moment that stands out clearly was when my car was stolen. I remember sitting in my empty garage, crying out to God, terrified. Terrified of losing my belongings. Terrified about what would happen next. Especially worried about my stuffed monkey—the one I’m holding as I write this, which sounds silly from a 26 year old but it holds memories. I remember thinking, You gave me a word, and this doesn’t seem to align with it at all. That was one of those interruption moments—one I still don’t fully understand.
One part of Pastor Steve’s message that really stayed with me was the idea that the word impossible actually means “I AM possible.” Those weren’t his exact words, but they kept echoing in my mind.
What we see as impossible is often just the space where I AM—God Himself—steps in. The same God who introduced Himself as “I AM” is not limited by what overwhelms us. What feels like a dead end to us is often holy ground to Him. God does not go back on His words or His promises. Even the promises made centuries before Jesus was born were fulfilled. So I can trust that the word He has given me will stand.
This year, I’ve stood in a lot of places that felt impossible.
Impossible conversations.
Impossible healing.
Impossible hope.
Impossible trust.
Impossible belief.
But as I sat with this message, I realized this isn’t the first time my life has been shaped by a divine interruption.
Years ago, my burn injury became the interruption that changed everything. In a single moment, my life was redirected in ways I never would have chosen. My body, my future, my identity, and my plans were all altered. It was painful, terrifying, and deeply disorienting. I remember that first Christmas after the hospital stays (I was out of the hospital in the fall). It was painful to open gift and to navigate my new reality. Nothing about that season felt holy at the time—it just felt like loss. My small body and mind couldn't comprehend what was happening and as I have grown older, I can see more clearly.
And yet, looking back now, I can see how God met me there too.
That interruption reshaped my heart, softened my compassion, and awakened a calling I never would have found otherwise. It placed me in spaces to walk alongside other survivors, caregivers, and hurting people—to serve, to listen, and to remind others they are not alone. What once felt like the end of the story became the beginning of a purpose I couldn’t have imagined.
So when I look at this year’s interruptions, I’m reminded that God has already proven He can bring beauty, calling, and redemption out of devastation.
And yet, somehow, God met me here again. Not only met me here—but stayed with me in it.
Not always by changing my circumstances, but by changing me. By giving me strength when I felt empty. Peace when nothing made sense. Grace for days when faith felt fragile. I didn’t always get answers, but I got His presence—and that has been enough to keep me going.
Trusting God this year hasn’t been loud or confident. It’s been quiet, stubborn trust. The kind that shows up even when the feelings aren’t there. The kind that smiles even while trembling inside, believing God sees that strength too. The kind that says, I will serve You even when it doesn’t make sense. The kind that says, I don’t understand this, but I still believe You are good.
I’m still trusting Him with unanswered prayers. I’m still believing Him for things I haven’t seen yet. I’m still walking forward without the full picture. But I know this—every interruption has drawn me closer to Him, even when it hurt.
I’m learning that divine interruptions aren’t punishments. They’re invitations. Invitations to let go of control. Invitations to rely more deeply on God. Invitations to remember that He is still writing the story—even when I don’t like the chapter I’m in. Sometimes they are invitations into a calling we never would have chosen on our own.
Pastor Steve mentioned Mary and Joseph, and I was struck by how deeply their lives were interrupted. Just two teenagers whose entire worlds were suddenly turned upside down. Nothing about their story went according to plan. Each of them had their own fears, doubts, and heart work to do. And yet, through their interruption, they were given the opportunity to do something no one else in history has ever done—to raise the Messiah. Talk about a plot twist.
So if you’re in a season that feels interrupted—where life looks nothing like you expected—I want you to know you’re not alone. And maybe, just maybe, what feels impossible right now is actually the place where I AM possible is about to show up.
As we move into the Christmas season, I can’t help but see how this theme of divine interruption is woven right into the heart of the Christmas story. In every aspect it is the Christmas story.
Christmas itself began with interruptions.
Mary’s life was interrupted by an angel and an impossible calling. Joseph’s plans were interrupted by fear, confusion, and a dream that required radical trust. Shepherds were interrupted in the middle of an ordinary night. Even the world was interrupted by a baby born in a stable—humble, messy, unexpected.
None of it looked convenient. None of it looked safe. None of it looked like how we would have planned it. And yet, those interruptions brought salvation, hope, and life to the world.
This year, my interruptions don’t look like angels or star-lit skies. They look like long nights, unanswered prayers, quiet tears, and choosing faith when it would be easier to give up. But the same God who entered the world through a stable still enters our lives through the unexpected.
If God can bring redemption through a disrupted Christmas night, I trust that He can bring purpose through the interruptions in my own story.
God has been faithful before. I trust that He will be faithful again.
“Nothing will be impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37)
