When Faith Interrupts

Today we’re unpacking Mark 5:21–43, Jesus’ healing of Jairus’s daughter and the bleeding woman how it connects with our modern culture of busyness, and our idolization of productivity. 

Transcript

The Rest of the Sermon – “When Faith Interrupts” (Mark 5:21–43) 

Welcome to The Rest of the Sermon—the podcast where we explore the thoughts, stories, and challenges that didn’t quite make it into Sunday’s message. Whether it was too honest, too complicated, or just too much for a 15-minute sermon, this is where we talk about what was left unsaid. So grab a seat, open your heart, and let’s dig a little deeper.

Today we’re unpacking the sermon “When Faith Interrupts,” rooted in Mark 5:21–43. In this episode, we’ll venture into some bold territory—connecting Jesus’ healing of Jairus’s daughter and the bleeding woman with our modern culture of busyness, our idolization of productivity. 

Interruptions, Faith, and the Jesus Way

Let’s begin by recalling the biblical story that sparked Sunday’s sermon. In Mark 5:21–43, Jesus is approached by a desperate synagogue leader named Jairus, whose young daughter lies at death’s door. As a respected religious leader, Jairus likely had status and resources, yet in this moment he falls at Jesus’ feet, pleading for a miracle. Jesus agrees to go with him. But on the way, Jesus is interrupted. A woman suffering from chronic bleeding—an ailment that made her ritually unclean and socially marginalized—sneaks through the crowd to touch Jesus’ cloak. For 12 years she had been cast aside, considered impure, and had “suffered a lot” under many doctors while only getting worse. This unnamed woman’s daring faith interrupts Jesus’ urgent errand. And what does Jesus do? He stops. He turns toward the interruption.

Imagine the scene: The crowd pressing in, the disciples impatient, Jairus anxiously tugging at Jesus to hurry—after all, every second counts when a child is dying. But Jesus pauses and asks, “Who touched me?” The disciples practically roll their eyes: Everyone is touching you in this crowd! Yet Jesus refuses to rush on. He waits for the woman to come forward. When she does, trembling, Jesus listens to her whole story. Instead of scolding her for interrupting or for breaking social rules, he calls her “Daughter” and says, “Your faith has made you well. Go in peace”. In that moment, Jesus publicly restores her, a woman whom society had shunned, calling her daughter – a term of intimate acceptance – just as Jairus’s own daughter is about to be restored. Jesus, we see, has time for the outcast even when the important leader is made to wait.

Of course, as soon as Jesus finishes speaking to the woman, bad news arrives: Jairus’s daughter has died in the delay. One can only imagine Jairus’s turmoil – if only they hadn’t stopped! But Jesus turns to Jairus and essentially says, “Keep believing.” He then proceeds to Jairus’s house and raises the little girl from the dead, demonstrating that God’s timing often defies our urgency. The interruption on the road was not a barrier to the miracle – it was itself an integral part of the miracle(s). Two daughters were healed that day, one publicly, one privately, because Jesus allowed an interruption to grace his path.

This “Miracle on the Way to a Miracle” reveals something profound about the heart of Jesus: He was “interruptible.” In fact, much of Jesus’ ministry happened in interruptions. He was often stopped in the middle of a journey by someone crying out for mercy, and he stopped for them. He had a mission, yes, but his means of fulfilling it involved being present with people in need, even if it meant a detour.

To be honest, many of us find interruptions irritating. We plan our days to be efficient; we have our to-do lists and schedules. An unexpected interruption – a phone call from a friend in crisis, a child demanding attention when you’re busy, a neighbor asking for help – can feel like an unwelcome obstacle to our goals. But in the Gospels, interruptions are often where God works most powerfully. Jesus teaches us that the truly important work may happen in the “interruptions”. Our sermon title, “When Faith Interrupts,” invites us to consider that sometimes faith itself shows up as an interruption to our plans – an opportunity to trust God’s timing and extend God’s love in unscheduled moments.

Before we move on, take a moment to reflect: How do I respond when I’m interrupted? Do I see interruptions as nuisances, or could they be invitations from God to pause and pay attention to something – or someone – important? Jairus’s miracle was delayed but not denied; the interruption on the way became a twofold blessing. What might God be able to do through the interruptions in our lives if we would only stop and listen?

Busy Lives, Distracted Souls

This biblical story of an interruption challenges us to examine our current cultural climate of busyness and distraction. Here in 21st-century American life, we are busy. Ask someone how they’re doing, and a common reply is, “Oh, I’m so busy.” It’s practically a badge of honor. Our calendars are packed, we’re running from one commitment to the next, and our smartphones buzz constantly with notifications. We live in an age of distraction, where we have more productivity tools and time-saving devices than ever, yet we often feel we have less time and focus.

Modern society idolizes productivity. We often measure our worth by how much we can accomplish or produce. This can creep into our spiritual life and self-image. We start to believe the lie that being busy equals being important, and that resting or stepping aside to care for someone is “unproductive.” If all our value is tied to productivity, no wonder we hate interruptions! An interruption threatens our sense of worth because it momentarily takes us off the hamster wheel of doing and producing.

Even church folks are not immune. We fill our days with service projects, committees, and programs – all good things – but sometimes even ministry can become frenetic. We risk becoming like Martha in Luke 10, “distracted by many tasks” while Jesus is inviting us to sit at his feet like Mary. Jesus gently told Martha, “You are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed – or indeed only one” (Luke 10:41-42). He wasn’t criticizing her service; He was addressing her anxiety and misplaced focus. How often do we likewise become so busy with even religious activity that we miss the presence of God right in front of us?

Our hustle and self-sufficiency mindset also mean we don’t like admitting need or slowing down for others’ needs. We prize the “self-made” person who doesn’t rely on anyone. But the Gospel turns that on its head, calling us to humility and mutual dependence – on God and on each other. Jesus Himself often withdrew to rest and pray, modeling that we are not machines. Our faith tells us we are human beings, not just human doings. Yet, breaking free from the idol of busyness is hard. We almost feel guilty if we’re not doing something productive at all times. Gunner Gunderson said, “When work is an idol, rest will feel like a sin.”. 

Could it be that our addiction to busyness is dulling our spiritual sensitivity? If God wanted to interrupt your day with a person in need, would you notice? Or would you, would I, be too glued to our schedule to even see it? 

There’s a famous study that illustrates. In the 1970s, researchers at Princeton Seminary conducted what’s now known as the “Good Samaritan Experiment.” They had seminary students prepare a talk about the parable of the Good Samaritan – the story Jesus told about stopping to help a wounded stranger. Then, one by one, they sent these students to another building to deliver their sermon. Here’s the twist: some students were told, “Oh, you’re late, you’d better hurry over,” while others were told, “You have a few minutes, but you can head over now.” Along the route, the researchers planted a man slumped in a doorway, moaning as if in distress – a real-life scenario mirroring the parable. What happened? The students who thought they were late rarely stopped – in fact, only 10% of those in a hurry paused to help the suffering person. But of those who were not rushed, 63% stopped to offer help. Remember, all of these participants were theology students actually thinking about the Good Samaritan story, presumably motivated to be good neighbors. Yet, being in a hurry drastically cut down their compassion. One report on this study concluded that being in a rush can lead even people with good intentions to ignore someone in need. In other words, hurry is the enemy of love.

What a wake-up call for us. If seminarians rushing to preach on “loving your neighbor” failed to actually love a neighbor right in front of them, how easily might we do the same? It’s worth asking: What important things from God might I be missing because I’m moving too fast? The cultural climate of constant distraction – with smartphones pinging and a pressure to multitask – only makes this harder. But as people of faith, we’re called to march to a different rhythm. Romans 12 says “Do not conform to the pattern of this world.” Here, the world’s pattern is frantic, fragmented, always-on. Jesus offers us a better way: an invitation to an unhurried life, where we can be fully present to God and to others.

 That doesn’t mean we abandon all responsibilities or never strive for excellence. It means reordering our values. It means recognizing that compassion is often inconvenient, and that’s okay. The Gospel writers show us a Jesus who was busy with God’s work, yet never too busy to show compassion. He chose interruptibility. As modern disciples, we must ask: do we value people enough to be interruptible? Do we value God’s voice enough to be still and listen, even if just for a moment? Sometimes the holiest thing we can do is pause. 

Presence Over Productivity: The Gospel of Interruptible Love

There’s a difference between productivity vs. presence. Our society says productivity is king – keep producing, keep achieving. But the Gospel places a higher value on presence – being with God and with people. “Love your neighbor” is inherently inefficient; it often pulls us away from our agendas. The bleeding woman interrupted Jesus’ productive itinerary to heal a dying girl, and yet Jesus honored that interruption because love was present there. The Good Samaritan in Jesus’ parable (Luke 10) was on a journey when he found a mugged man on the road. Unlike the priest and Levite who hurried by (perhaps they told themselves they had important duties to attend to), the Samaritan stopped. He lost time, he spent money on the wounded man’s care, he got his hands dirty. By worldly standards, that was unproductive time and a risk to his own schedule. But in God’s eyes, that was the highest fulfillment of the law: loving mercy and loving your neighbor as yourself. The Good Samaritan challenges us to ask who is worth interrupting our journey for? Jesus’ answer: the one in need, anyone in need – even a stranger, even an enemy, even someone very different from us.

In our modern context, showing compassion might mean choosing presence in small ways: putting the phone down to truly listen to a friend, pausing your work to comfort a co-worker having a hard day, or letting go of one commitment to make space for time with your family or with God. It might mean divine interruptions in big ways, too: being open to a calling that upends your career plans, or welcoming a foster child into your home, or stopping to help someone on the street when you “really don’t have time.” We won’t likely hear a loud voice from heaven telling us when to stop; it starts with cultivating an interruptible heart – a heart sensitive to the Holy Spirit’s gentle nudge that says, “This right here is important – stop and tend to this.”

This challenges the idol of self-sufficiency as well. If I’m always hustling to prove my worth or maintain my comfort, I might avoid the messy, time-consuming work of compassion. Helping others often reveals our needs too. We might discover impatience in ourselves, or prejudice, or simply that we need God’s strength to love well. And that’s a good thing. It reminds us that we are not all-sufficient—we need God, and we need each other. Jesus did not call us to self-sufficiency; he called us to love-sufficiency. “By this everyone will know you are my disciples, if you love one another,” He said (John 13:35). Love sometimes interrupts schedule and status quo.

Consider again the woman with the flow of blood. By stopping for her, Jesus not only healed her physically but also restored her dignity in front of the crowd. He essentially said this marginalized, long-suffering woman mattered enough to halt everything. Can you imagine how that made her feel? How it challenged the crowd’s assumptions? Perhaps some in that crowd looked down on her or were annoyed by the delay. Jesus’ action confronted those attitudes, demonstrating that compassion trumps protocol. In a similar way, when we choose people over tasks, or mercy over convenience, we bear witness to a different set of values – the values of God’s kingdom.

Faithful Interruptions: Living the Challenge Today

So, how do we put all this together? What does “faithful interruption” look like in practice for us, today? Let’s envision it:

• On a personal level, it might look like you reordering your life rhythms to allow margin for compassion. Maybe it’s intentionally scheduling a little less, so you have time to notice people. It could be as deliberate as deciding: “I’m going to leave 15 minutes earlier for my commute, and if I encounter someone who needs help, I can stop without panicking about being late.” It might look like responding to that feeling in your gut when you see a person in distress instead of quickly suppressing it. Perhaps it’s choosing one evening a week to not be productive – instead, you visit a lonely neighbor or spend quality time with your kids or in prayer, allowing God to interrupt and guide that time. Small acts of interruptibility build a compassionate character.
• In our spiritual life, faithful interruption means making space for God to speak. Rather than rushing through devotions or skipping them because we’re busy, we pause. We listen. Maybe we practice a discipline of silence or unhurried prayer where we specifically say, “Lord, here I am, interrupt my thoughts.” We might find God nudging us toward a person or an issue we normally ignore. Pay attention to those holy nudges – perhaps during prayer a coworker’s face comes to mind, or you can’t shake concern for the single mother you chatted with. That could be the Spirit inviting you to reach out, to interrupt their life with an unexpected blessing.
• Within the church community, faithful interruptions could involve reassessing our priorities and programs. Are we open to changing course if it means better serving those in need? Imagine a church meeting where someone says, “I think we need to pause our building renovation and dedicate more budget to the local food pantry, because there’s a real need we’re not addressing.” That would interrupt the comfortable plan, right? But it might be exactly what following Jesus looks like. It could also mean being willing to welcome messy situations into our church life. If a group of struggling, addiction-recovering young people started coming to our traditionally older, conservative congregation, would we embrace them wholeheartedly? Would we adapt to make them feel at home? That might interrupt our usual way of doing things – and it would be a beautiful interruption to have!
• In the wider society, maybe faithful interruption calls us to speak up or act for justice, even if it’s inconvenient. Think of interruptions in a societal sense: moments that grab public attention and demand compassion. A natural disaster, for instance, interrupts our regularly scheduled programming and calls forth generosity. But we don’t have to wait for disasters. We can seek out ways to “stand in the gap” between rich and poor, between the isolated and the community. Perhaps it’s volunteering at a shelter, which literally interrupts your comfortable Saturday morning sleep-in so you can cook breakfast for homeless guests. Perhaps it’s mentoring an underprivileged teen, which interrupts your weekly routine with basketball games and heart-to-heart talks. It might even be something like advocating for systemic change – writing to a representative about affordable housing or supporting job training programs – essentially interrupting the status quo that keeps the poor down. These actions, big or small, live out Isaiah 58 and James 2 in real time.

Let’s be clear, being interruptible and compassionate will cost us something. It might cost time, money, emotional energy, maybe even reputation in some circles. But every cost is an investment in what Jesus called “treasure in heaven.” Every time we choose to value a person over our perfect plan, we honor God’s image in them. Every time the church crosses a divide to love those who were considered “other,” the world catches a glimpse of the kingdom of God. It’s salt and light in action.

In Mark 5, Jesus could have kept going to Jairus’s house and ignored the touch from the bleeding woman – but if he had, only one miracle would have happened that day. By stopping, two miracles happened, and a whole crowd saw a fuller picture of God’s grace. There’s a lesson there: when we allow interruptions for the sake of love, we open the door for more miracles, more restoration, more of God’s glory to shine. We might think sticking to our script will yield the best outcome, but God’s script is often different and richer.

As we conclude, let’s challenge each other with this: What if we lived with an openness to holy interruptions? What if we started each day with a prayer, “God, please make me interruptible today.” It means we may be derailed from our agenda. It means our hearts must be tuned to the Spirit and tuned away from self-centered convenience. But imagine the possibilities: We might actually meet Jesus in the interruptions, just as surely as Jairus and the bleeding woman did. After all, Jesus said, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these, you did for me.” In serving others, we encounter Christ Himself.

So, let’s not fear interruptions; let’s embrace them as moments of grace. Let’s interrupt the hurry with holiness. Let’s interrupt prejudice with genuine presence and listening. Let’s interrupt despair with hope and love in action. The world, drowning in busyness and division, is yearning for a different way – whether it knows it or not. Our calling is to model that different way, the way of Jesus, who stopped for the one in need, who broke through the walls between people, who ultimately allowed his own life to be “interrupted” by the Cross for our sake. His interruption brought our salvation.

Now it’s our turn to carry that forward. May our faith interrupt our lives in the best possible way, and may we become, as a people, beautifully interruptible for the sake of God’s love.

Closing Prayer

Gracious and interrupting God,

Teach us to walk like You.

Forgive us, Lord, for the times we’ve been too busy to see.
 For the appointments we’ve prized more than the people in front of us.
 For the schedules we’ve clung to while love waited quietly on the margins.

We confess our addiction to productivity,
 Our fear of slowing down,
 Our discomfort with being needed in ways that cost us.

Interrupt us, Holy Spirit.
 Break into our days with holy disruptions.
 Call us away from the urgent, toward the eternal.
 Make us bold enough to stop, to see, to serve.

Give us eyes to recognize the sacred in the inconvenient,
 Ears to hear the cries we scroll past,
 And hearts soft enough to be moved—
 even when it means being late, being uncomfortable, being changed.

May we be a people shaped not by calendars,
 but by compassion.
 May we live lives that welcome interruptions for the sake of love.
 And may every holy detour become a doorway to Your kingdom.

We pray in the name of Jesus,
 Who was never in a hurry, and always had time for the least and the lost.

Amen.

Outro: Thanks for joining me on The Rest of the Sermon. If something today challenged you, encouraged you, or made you think—don’t keep it to yourself. Please like, share, or send it to someone who might need to hear it. And until next time, be interruptible! Peace be with you!