The Gift of Disruption

The Gift of Disruption

Show of hands—how many of you walk into the holiday season with a plan?

The traditions are locked in. The calendar is full. All that’s left is for everyone to show up, cooperate, and not catch whatever mysterious illness is going around. And when that doesn’t happen, we manage the disruption: last-minute store runs, misplaced gifts, sudden schedule changes.

Christmas is basically organized chaos with pretty lights.

Interestingly, that’s exactly how it started.

In Matthew 1, we’re told that Mary and Joseph were engaged—already a plan in motion. A good plan. A quiet wedding. A quiet life. Then the disruption: Mary is pregnant, and Joseph knows the child isn’t his.

Joseph does what any righteous, compassionate person might do. He plans a quiet divorce—hurt, but determined not to shame her. And right in the middle of that disruption, God introduces another one. An angel appears in a dream and essentially says, “What you think is a disaster is actually divine.”

Joseph is suddenly caught between what he had carefully planned…and what God had planned from the foundations of the world.

This isn’t unique to Joseph.

God has a long history of interrupting lives. Abraham is told to pack everything and move—with no map and no children. Moses stumbles onto a burning bush while trying to stay off the radar. Jonah, Gideon, Deborah, Esther—over and over, God works through disruption.

And then there’s Mary.

She’s young. She has a plan. A simple one. And then Gabriel shows up with news that will profoundly and permanently alter her life. Eternity would squeeze into her womb. The infinite would become an infant.

If we’re honest, we resist disruption because it threatens our efficiency, our comfort, and our sense of control. But the Incarnation—the moment God steps into human history—is the most disruptive event imaginable. And it teaches us something essential:

God’s sovereignty is greater than our schedule.

So what do we do with that?

First, treat disruptions like invitations.
Disruption often feels like a problem to solve, but it may be an invitation to trust. The disciples had no idea what the Spirit was doing at Pentecost—but history tells us it was the beginning of a worldwide movement. Likewise, a loss, a diagnosis, or an unwanted change may not be punishment—it may be the place where God draws unexpectedly near.

Mary’s response says it all: “I am the Lord’s servant. May everything you have said about me come true.” Joseph’s response follows obedience, not explanation. Both lean into trust before clarity.

Second, learn holy flexibility.
Disruptions tend to expose what we’ve quietly depended on—comfort, convenience, predictability. Everyone in the Christmas story had to adjust: Mary, Joseph, shepherds, wise men, even kings. Flexibility isn’t weakness; it’s faith practiced in real time.

Third, listen during interruptions.
Joseph almost missed God’s plan because he assumed his disruption meant defeat. Sometimes interruptions are how God gets our attention. They slow us down enough to hear what we’d otherwise ignore.

Disruption is rarely convenient. But it’s not always the enemy.

Sometimes, it’s the doorway through which Emmanuel—God with us—steps into our lives.

So here’s the question worth sitting with this season:
In your current disruption, is there an invitation from God?

Maybe to trust.
Maybe to wait.
Maybe to be present.
Maybe to take a step of faith.
Maybe to keep going when you’re weary.
Maybe to loosen your grip on your plan and lean into His.

After all, the greatest gift of Christmas arrived through disruption. And it still does.