Scripture is filled with people whose lives don’t stay colored within the lines. Abraham leaves home without a map. Joseph’s dreams land him in a pit and dungeon before they ever reach a palace. David is anointed king and then spends years hiding in caves. Mary prepares for
marriage and finds herself bearing the weight of God’s promise to Israel. None of their plans were sinful.
It’s just that God’s work has a way of arriving sideways. We expect clarity; He gives calling instead. We want timelines. He gives us time to wait. We aim for safety. He offers faith. The disruption is formative.
Plans tend to orbit around the preservation of the self. But God’s purposes tend to revolve around the redemption of the world. Those two centers rarely align without friction.
This is why heavenly interruption often feels like loss before it feels like grace. The job falls through. The relationship fractures. The ministry stalls. The door we were certain God would open stays shut. In those moments, faith is tempted to become nostalgia—longing for the version of life we almost had. But the biblical pattern presses us forward. God is less interested in restoring our expectations than in reordering our loves.
The upending of our plans itself becomes instruction. We learn that obedience is not the art of predicting God’s moves but the discipline of trusting His character. We discover that vocation is forged more by surrender than strategy. What looked like delay reveals depth. What felt
like your derailment winds up giving you direction.
In the end, God does not merely change our plans. He replaces them with something sturdier: a life anchored in faithfulness and not in foresight.
Maranatha,
Jordy
