Corporatology 007: The Theology of Interruption

“God is God. Because He is God, He is worthy of my trust and obedience. I will find rest nowhere but in His will.” ~Elisabeth Eliot

When God Interrupts Your Grind

(and the mercy hidden in losing)

Sometimes God doesn’t whisper “rest.”
He dismantles your reason not to, and it feels violent.

My interruption didn't strike like lightning — it was a gradual death.
Nonetheless, it was a knowing in my spirit - one that I tried to ignore.

Then came lightening and thunder and a tempest I had known would come... something so wholly undoing I could not outrun it.

I was vacationing on the Gulf Coast when the new company held its town hall.
The sky was clear, waves steady, but something in me shifted.

I texted my husband:
“I don’t think this is gonna fare well for me.”

And I was right.

Sometimes you hear the lies laced in the right words.

When the grind finally stopped, I felt heavy.
Sad. Jarred awake. Jarred from the stress stupor.
But also curious — maybe God was making space for something better than empty performance exhaustion.

In the silence that followed, He started peeling back everything I’d built around myself — the identity, the influence, the illusion of control.

God is not impressed by the constructs we exhaust ourselves to maintain. We build and build and build and tire ourselves to the point of useless...
He says, "Sshhhh, you can stop that now."

I was being pulled back to purpose.

I wasn’t disqualified.
I was re-qualified by the One who made me good at the job in the first place.

At church, a friend prayed over me and said,

“Sometimes you step out of the boat, and your faith kicks into action —
and other times, you’re pushed out of the boat.
But that same faith will carry you amidst the pain.”

That’s the kind of interruption this was.

Not punishment — positioning.
Not the end of a grind — the start of a grace I didn’t earn.

“But forget all that—
    it is nothing compared to what I am going to do.
For I am about to do something new.
    See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?
I will make a pathway through the wilderness.
    I will create rivers in the dry wasteland. Isaiah 43:18-19

The Unhurried Savior

Jesus never treated interruption as inconvenience.

Reading the Biblical interruptions confronts me, "Can't y'all see He's got things to do?!" How shortsighted I am.

When Jairus begged Him to come heal his daughter, He went —
and then He was - again - interrupted by the bleeding woman.

Not only that - He was interrupted in crowds of people. Pushing.
I have no room for this.

That woman had been suffering for twelve years.
Twelve years of isolation.
Twelve years of trying to fix herself.

And in the middle of an urgent crisis, Jesus stopped.

He felt her touch.
He turned.
He called her “daughter.”

The interruption restored her dignity.

And while everyone panicked that Jairus’s daughter had died in the delay, Jesus walked into that room and restored her life, too.

Two miracles.
Interrupted.
I need to have room for this.

Another time, Jesus was traveling when a blind man started shouting from the roadside. Let someone shout at me.

The crowd told him to be quiet.
It's me, I'm the crowd.
He was disrupting the schedule.

Jesus stopped anyway.

The interruption became sight.

Over and over in Scripture —
The grind was moving.
The mission was urgent.
The crowds were pressing. Pushing.

And Jesus kept stopping.
Letting interruption.

Because what looks like delay to us
often looks like deliverance to God.

The Formation of the Interrupted

Interruptions usher in the:

• clarity you were too busy to hear
• identity stripped of performance
• humility you wouldn’t have chosen
• space for grief you postponed
• new assignments you would’ve said “no” to before
• dependence that feels terrifying but becomes freedom

Here’s the uncomfortable truth:

Sometimes we idolize the grind because it lets us feel necessary.
How needed is the one who grinds morning, noon, and night.

Interruptions expose whether we trust God —
or just trust our momentum.

And momentum is an addiction.

When the grind stopped for me, I had to sit in questions I’d been outrunning:

Who am I if I’m not producing?
Who am I if I’m not leading?
Who am I if the calendar is blank?

The interruption wasn’t just about employment.

It was about identity.

Reconcile the Expense

• About 53% of unemployed adults say they felt like they lost a piece of their identity, and 56% reported increased emotional or mental health issues , such as anxiety or depression, after losing a job (Pew Research Center, 2021).
• 70% of unemployed adults reported feeling more stressed than usual after job loss (Pew Research Center, 2021).
• Unemployment is consistently associated with higher levels of psychological distress, depression, and reduced well-being compared to employment (Paul & Moser, 2009).
• Employment provides identity formation, social status, time structure, and belonging, and its loss can destabilize self-concept and mental health (McKee-Ryan et al., 2005).
• Re-employment is associated with significant reductions in depression and psychological distress, demonstrating how tightly work and mental health are linked (Wanberg, 2012).

The Interruption Audit

(An examination for when momentum stops — or before it does.)

☐ 1. When something ended, did I grieve the assignment — or my status?
“What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?” (Mark 8:36)

☐ 2. If my title disappeared tomorrow, what part of me would panic? “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you.” (Jeremiah 1:5)

☐ 3. Do I equate busyness with obedience?
“Martha, Martha… you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary.” (Luke 10:41–42)

☐ 4. Do I secretly believe productivity makes me more valuable?
“By the grace of God I am what I am.” (1 Corinthians 15:10)

☐ 5. When my calendar is empty, do I feel peace — or worthlessness?
“Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)

☐ 6. Am I more afraid of stillness than failure?
“In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and trust shall be your strength.” (Isaiah 30:15)

☐ 7. Have I mistaken momentum for calling?
“The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.” (Proverbs 16:9)

☐ 8. Do I rush past people in the name of purpose?
“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” (Philippians 2:4)

☐ 9. When God slows me down, do I call it attack — or invitation?
“For the Lord disciplines the one He loves.” (Hebrews 12:6)

☐ 10. What has this interruption revealed about what I was trusting?
“Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.” (Psalm 20:7)

Lessons Learned

Some lessons are learned fast.

Losing the role felt like such loss.

But what I really lost was the illusion that I was indispensable.

And that was mercy.

I learned that I had quietly attached my identity to being needed.
To being the one who fixed it.
Built it.
Held it together even as my hands calloused and bled.

I didn’t just work hard — I derived worth from being effective.

The interruption exposed that.

When the calendar cleared and the emails stopped, I felt the withdrawal.
Work, like alcohol, is the socially acceptable substance abuse.

I realized how much of my confidence was tethered to performance.

The grind wasn’t holy.
It was intoxicating.

It gave me measurable wins.
Clear feedback loops.
A place to prove myself.

But when it was taken away, I had to confront a harder question:

Who am I when I’m not producing?

That question unsettled me.
And it healed me.

I've scribbled words upon words to share this jarring with you, encouraging you to let the interruption have its way in your life.

Because I started to see how often I confused calling with momentum.
How easily I mistook productivity for obedience.
How subtly I believed that being impressive was the same thing as being faithful.

Truth is, He finds me impressive without six figures and a Mercedes.

The constructs of man are nothing more than a house of cards.

The interruption slowed me down long enough to feel the grief I had postponed.
To sit with the insecurity I had outworked.
To admit that control had become comforting.

I learned that I am not more loved when I am leading.
Not more valuable when I am visible.
Not more secure when I am busy.

I learned that God is not threatened by my stillness.
In fact, He commands it.

This is what the Sovereign Lord,
    the Holy One of Israel, says:
“Only in returning to Me
    and resting in Me will you be saved.
In quietness and confidence is your strength.
    But you would have none of it. Isaiah 30:15

And I learned that when He removes something, it isn’t always punishment —
sometimes it’s protection from building my identity on something temporary.

The grind built my résumé.

The interruption rebuilt my life.

Anchored.

I am still ambitious.
But I am not building from pressure anymore.

I still want impact.
But I no longer need it to prove I matter.

The interruption wasn’t random.

It exposed what I was trusting.
And it invited me back to something steadier than success.

Action Items

This one's hard, right? Interruption?! Never!
I need to go to Target, get a caramel macchiato, drop my kid off at practice, lessons, and a friend's birthday party. The baby's crying, laundry needs something, and I haven't brushed my hair in days... how can I be interrupted - how can I let interruption?

Ask Him.

• Leave margin in your calendar on purpose.
• Sit in silence for 10 minutes without filling it.
• Ask: “If this ended, who would I still be?”
• Write down what you believe God says about you — apart from output.
• Reach out to someone you’ve been too busy for.
• Fast from metrics for a week (no checking numbers, engagement, performance dashboards, likes, comments).
• Pray specifically: “Lord, interrupt me if I’m running ahead of You.”

Interruption doesn’t mean abandoning your life. It means loosening your grip on it. It’s not about canceling Target runs or skipping practice. It’s about becoming interruptible in the middle of them. It’s about noticing when your urgency is louder than His voice. It’s about choosing presence over pace, even in the chaos. You don’t have to manufacture a crisis to learn this.
You can start small.

A pause before the reply.
A prayer before the decision.
A moment of stillness before the scroll.

The interruption may feel like loss.
But it might be the beginning of your freedom. 🤍