We have heard the saying “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” and it gives us all our own perspective. To some it might be “yeah, take of them.” To others it might be “oh boy, that is difficult” and yet to others it might be “not now, let me get back to you”.

What do those words mean to you, and how have you responded lately? (HINT: they are not always in alignment with each other)

The concept of the idea sounds, to any Christian, like a grand and noble calling. Jesus’s words can inspire visions of sacrifice, courage, and daring good works. We can lose ourselves daydreaming of future plans to love.

That idea to love well can vanish with surprising speed, however, when an actual neighbor asks for our help today or a text comes in “are you busy?”.  A church member asks for help to move a dresser. A coworker requests our feedback on a project. The driven among us find that such love disrupts our schedules, overturns our plans for the day, makes hash of our productivity, leaves our to-do lists half done.  (Not to mention the condemnation of not finishing everything on our to-do list today) “Love our neighbor,” as it turns out, can feel like a frustratingly inconvenient command.

So, excuses multiply. “I’m just too busy.” “I helped last time.” “My work is too pressing.” “He reaches out too often.” These defenses are persuasive, plausible — and sometimes, certainly legitimate. Yet often, they reveal that we are taking our own work, however important it may be, too seriously. It has to do with the condition of our heart.

How is your heart? Have you been hearing from a neighbor lately? Where are you torn? How are you coping (it is okay to admit, not good)

Seriously

Let us take a moment to place our soul for a moment under this wise scalpel from Dietrich Bonhoeffer:

Nobody is too good for the lowest service. Those who worry about the loss of time entailed by such small, external acts of helpfulness are usually taking their own work too seriously. We must be ready to allow ourselves to be interrupted by God, who will thwart our plans and frustrate our ways time and again, even daily, by sending people across our path with their demands and requests.

Those can words cut — especially for those like me, who are prone to prioritize tasks over people, to see “real work” as the kind that can be checked off a list. Many times it is seems difficult and that I have no time “simple assistance in minor, external matters”. The other danger is when I give my assistance reluctantly, and then rush through the task while my attention is fixated on the task I left behind?

What is your thoughts on being ready to be interrupted by God?  

Do you some times think that God thwarts your plans time and time again? What is your response in those times?

Strangely enough, Bonhoeffer goes on to observe, Christians can be particularly prone to this kind of sinful seriousness, often considering “their work so important and urgent that they do not want to let anything interrupt it”. It is in times of avoidance that makes us negligent to God’s commands. We are simply too occupied to look to others’ small and urgent needs.

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. 4 Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. – Philippians 2-3-4 ESV

Do you find yourself too busy for God? Do you find yourself too busy to engage in God’s business? (In other words, we are too busy to be like Jesus)

Lord of Interruptions

We can say without a doubt that no one’s work or to-do list was more important than Jesus Christ’s. No matter how significant our tasks may be, “save the world” exceeds them all, whether we want to believe it or not. Nor was anyone more devoted to the mission he’d been given. Yet when approached by the multitudes with their “demands and requests,” no one was more gracious and patient.

Can you imagine how so many of us would have responded to the blind man shouting from the road (Mark 10:46–48)? Or to the woman with the flow of blood (Mark 5:25–34)? Or to the mothers bringing their children for a blessing (Mark 10:13–16)?

Never once do we see Jesus brush past someone with a hasty, “Not now.” Nor do we get the impression that he ever struggled to focus on the person in front of him — even when dozens of others clamored for his attention. Evidently, he did not see small acts of service as interruptions to his calling, but as part of his calling. “The Son of Man came . . . to serve” (Mark 10:45), and oh how he served.

Of course, we are not Jesus. But we are being formed into his image. And as servants of the great Servant, he bids us to follow him his ways.

Jesus did say ‘no’

The confusion many times is that Jesus took care of every need and made everyone happy. Can you recall a time when you offered love and care to someone and got neglected? Maybe offer to invite someone over and they said “no”. Or you asked someone to spend time with you and they did not have time for you? Well, don’t be fooled. Jesus was that person also that said no.

Early the next morning Jesus went out to an isolated place. The crowds searched everywhere for him, and when they finally found him, they begged him not to leave them. But he replied, “I must preach the Good News of the Kingdom of God in other towns, too, because that is why I was sent.” – Luke 4:42-43 NLT

This request comes after Jesus worked for many hours with them and they wanted him to stay longer. Maybe with personal needs and unmet expectations. We don’t know all the details of their desires or needs they might have brought up to Jesus if He would have stayed, but we know that God does. Jesus, for all his patience in the face of interruptions, knew how to turn down requests. Some times we need to realize that being a servant does not remove the word no from our vocabulary. Nor does it prevent us, in an always-available culture like our own, from silencing our phones, or putting them away in order to give focused energy to our most important work and relationships.

More than that, there is a difference between small, everyday requests (the kind Bonhoeffer has in mind) and larger demands on our time. If as a general rule we should lean toward small interruptions and little requests, we should probably lean away from large or ongoing responsibilities — at least without stopping to count the cost (Luke 14:28).

Nevertheless, Bonhoeffer (and Jesus) still bids us toward a difficult balance: do not hold your daily plans with a vice grip, nor hand them to whoever will take them. That kind of balance comes from a heart in tune with heaven’s priorities.

Tune your Hearts this week

Jesus is our model. With so many demands and requests, and with such important work to do, how did he know when to embrace the unexpected and when to stay focused?

Where did that kind of spiritual discernment come from? Luke tells us. When the crowd came to him, Jesus was in “a desolate place” (Luke 4:42) — and desolate places were Jesus’s favorite places to pray (Luke 5:16). The crowds came to him, in other words, while he was communing with his Father. And from that place of spiritual strength, he had the clarity to see that, this time, he must move on.

Those who anchor their hearts in heaven — not only once, but morning by morning — slowly grow in the same kind of wisdom. They have the discernment to see some requests as unhelpful distractions to the day’s work, and others as the holy interruptions that they are. In the latter case, they may still feel a pulse of selfishness pulling the other way. But by the grace of God, they will laugh at their momentary frustration, set efficiency aside, and seize the day’s interruptions as opportunities for love.

 

Desiring God, desiringgod.org. (2020). Seize the Day's Interruptions by Scott Hubbard. Retrieved from https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/seize-the-days-interruptions

Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. (2009). Life Together: The Classic Exploration of Christian in Community. HarperOne; 1st Edition (May 26, 2009)

Tyndale House Publishers. (2015). Holy Bible: New Living Translation. Carol Stream, IL: Tyndale House Publishers.