I’ve spent much of my life waiting for things. Holidays, family trips, certain milestones—they all ignite an anticipation that’s at once exciting and uncertain. Then there’s the unexpected events—sickness, surprise visits, life-changing news. Sometimes I prefer the waiting, other times I prefer the spontaneous.
Now, at 6 days past my due date, the weight of waiting feels more real than usual. As I slog through a week of tentative plans, my whole existence feels wrapped up in a big WHAT IF. Each day—each moment—is an asterisk, an interruption waiting to happen. Though I welcome that time’s arrival, I also dread it. What if the circumstances aren’t the way I planned them? (They won’t be.) What if I’m caught by surprise? (I probably will be.) Worst of all, what if that day never comes? (It will.)
I imagine the Israelites must have felt this way during the hundreds of years of silence. Their God who promised to deliver them appeared to be absent. Oh, the questions that must have plagued them. What if the Messiah never comes? What if everything we believe is a lie? What will become of us?
Their faith, tested to its breaking point, either grew stronger or faded. They had the promises—all that was left was hope.
In the long years of waiting for a promised Savior, many may have questioned God’s plan. Because why would He wait to give something so good? Wouldn’t His love be more evident in arriving immediately?
Oh, the doubting. I see it daily in myself. Constantly waiting for something yet to come, bogged down by the weight of the present task. Like the Israelites, sometimes the promise feels too far away.
Then, the divine interruption.
Jesus, wholly unexpected by worldly standards, appeared when the time seemed all wrong. Why would the Savior be born in a stable? Why not arrive before his people’s hardship began?
In truth, I don’t know. But I suspect it has to do with the refining. That, and God’s plan being so much more perfect than our minds can fathom. We rarely see more than a glimpse of the whole, and the pieces leave us feeling incomplete.
Yet we were never called to fully know God, lest He be a being of our own creation. We were called to trust. And sometimes trust requires embracing the divine interruption, no matter the circumstances or timing of its arrival.
I ask of myself—am I willing to live in a way that honors my future hope? Because the present is given to me now, regardless of the weight of waiting for tomorrow.
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Sydney Frusti
I’m a storyteller at heart. Regardless of the medium—fantasy or realism, the written word or the screen, static or experiential—I’m in the business of stories. Because stories move us. Shape us. Comfort us. Challenge us. Stories are relatable and bring disparate parts together. We learn from each other by the stories we share. And perhaps, most importantly, stories reveal truths that are too ugly or too beautiful to face head-on.
My experience with stories began in childhood when I escaped into other people’s worlds and dreamed of creating my own. Over time, I’ve learned to incorporate stories into all areas of my life—music, crafting, gaming, and of course, writing.
Though I wasn’t born here, I call the Sonoran Desert my home. The vibrant sunsets and rugged mountains inspire my fantasy landscapes, and I’m drawn to the resilience of the beings that dwell here.
When I’m not writing, I can be found visiting the library with my two daughters, sewing, baking sourdough, playing mandolin, and leading adventurers through tabletop gaming campaigns.
Become a Lore Keeper to join my community of fellow travelers.
One response to “When God Interrupts”
Great story, Sydney! Should I share a website for my business?
It’s really cool how you use this outlet for expression! May you continue to write and share your understanding and interpretation of God’s provision on your blog!
🌺Stephanie Rojas