Last Friday I had my day all planned out. There was some important communication to get out to the choir and worship team at my church. And since I'm in the middle of writing a Christmas musical for next year, I needed to get a good bit of work done on that, as well. In my head, I had the day all laid out perfectly. I'd move from task to task smoothly, accomplishing a lot. That's how I saw it going.
That's not how it went.
First, early in the morning, I had to take my mom to the doctor to get the staples removed from her head. (Staples, for crying out loud! Who thinks up these things?) For various reasons, this little 45 minute trip took somewhat longer than expected. Now, I'm thrilled and honored to be alongside her during this season of her life, but there were these messages to get out, and this musical wasn't going to write itself.
Then a friend contacted me who really, really needed to talk. Meeting for lunch seemed like a logical and convenient way to get together. I love this guy, and I'm so glad to be on the journey with him. So I put off the church communication till the afternoon along with my plans for fleshing out these ideas on the musical. Honestly, I don't know how much help I really am in situations like this with my friend, but being there for him seemed to be the thing to do.
Shortly after this, our daughter came home from college just for the afternoon and evening. The arrival of any of our children causes a bit of a stir around here, so as she plopped herself up on the kitchen counter, I sat on the steps and we got to catch up a little. As she recounted the past week's events in her life, and as I peppered her with questions, the moment seemed right, important, almost sacred.
Still, there were these emails to write and this musical arrangement to get on paper.
In Luke 7, Jesus enters a town called Nain, and encounters a funeral procession. Jesus actually reached out and touched the coffin – a despicable defilement according to Jewish law – and resurrected the young man contained in it. Later, as Jesus is returning from the region of the Gerasenes, a synagogue leader stops Him, imploring Him to heal his dying daughter. Then, nearly crushed by the crowds around Him, Jesus is touched by a woman who had been subject to bleeding for 12 years. (Touched, you'll noticed, by not only a woman, but one who is bleeding. Not exactly upright and acceptable activity for a respectable Jewish man, much less a rabbi.)
The point is this – I'm sure that, in His divinity, none of this was a surprise to Jesus. But I wonder if, in His humanity, all this wasn't a bit of an interruption in His plan for the day. After all, there's a gospel to be preached, a Kingdom to be proclaimed and a world to be saved. Big ticket items, all of them. But in the middle of all that, a young man is restored to life, a dying daughter is raised by the touch of the Master Healer, and a bleeding woman receives a clean bill of health.
Sometimes, the interruption is the will and work of God.