I used to think I was pretty flexible. I liked to believe it was easy for me to pivot and adjust with the plans God had for me at a moments notice. The older I have gotten, I have realized how attached I can be to the plans I have made. Not because they are perfect, but rather because they are familiar and safe. And then God steps in suddenly, and the things I was so sure about starts shifting under my very own feet.
Sometimes it’s a door that closes so quietly you could miss it; sometimes it’s a door that slams so loud, it scars you; sometimes it’s not a door at all— it’s just a slow unravelling.
In those moments, it’s easy to feel like something has gone wrong. Like you misheard or failed or you’re being punished. But divine intervention rarely feels divine in real time. It feels inconvenient and uncomfortable and the opposite of what you prayed for. It feels like the opposite of progress. Yet somehow, they end up being the very thing that saves you.
When I look back, some of the biggest blessings in my life came disguised as complete disappointments. The opportunities I thought would fulfill me, the people I thought would stay, the plans I thought were solid, the seasons I thought would last longer than they did. At those times, I didn’t see God’s hand in any of it. I saw loss, confusion, and delay. But now,
I see how God’s rejection led me directly to redirection. I can see bow He was protecting me from places that would have drained and crushed me in the long run. I can truly see how every interruption carried purpose.
Proverbs 16:9 says, “A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.”
We plan because planning feels steady. God directs because He sees what we cannot. And the tension between those two things is where most of us live— wanting to trust God fully, but also wanting to hold onto the blueprint we built in our heads.
But here’s the truth that I have been sitting with lately: God is not intimidated by our plans. He’s not offended by our structure. He’s not asking us to stop dreaming and preparing. He is simply asking us to stay interruptible— to leave room for things to shift, to let Him lead even when we feel ready to run ahead. Because sometimes interruption is the blessing.
When the job falls through, when the relationship ends, when the opportunity dries up— it’s hard to not take it personally, it’s hard to not feel like you did something wrong, it’s hard not to wonder why God didn’t just let it work. But what if God is pulling you out of something that would have destroyed you?
We see moments, but God sees the whole story. We see the next step, but God sees the destination. We see what we think we are losing, but God sees what he’s making room for.
If your plans are shifting, if your timeline is stretching, if your expectations are being rearranged— you’re not off track, you’re not behind, you’re not forgotten. You’re being guided.
You are being redirected by a God who loves you too much to let you settle. A God who interrupts with intention.
His interruptions are never accidents, they’re invitations into something deeper, safer, and better than what you planned.