Stephanie Rische

Blogger and Writer: Capturing Stories of God's Grace

When God Interferes

I got a text from a friend the other day, giving me an update on something we’d been praying about. She meant to type “Because of God’s intervention . . .” but autocorrect stepped in and changed it to “Because of God’s interference.”

It made me laugh, as autocorrect tends to do, but then it occurred to me that there’s some truth in this typo. Isn’t that how I see God sometimes?

I present him with what I’m sure is the perfect plan, the ideal solution to a problem, the surefire answer to my prayer. And then I wait for things to unfold exactly as I’ve drawn them up.

Only it rarely happens this way. God interferes with my plans.

Here’s just a small sampling:

Ten years ago . . . I just knew Guy X was “the one” for me. I told God all the reasons this relationship was meant to be. But God interfered. The wedding bells were silent.

Two years ago . . . My husband (not Guy X!) applied for a job that seemed just right for him—a position he was perfectly qualified for and where he had a personal connection. But God interfered. Daniel didn’t get the job.

Two months ago . . . Daniel and I found a house we had our hearts set on, and we made an offer the next day. But just before the papers were signed, another buyer whisked in. God interfered. We were back to square one at Realtor.com.

In each scenario, I found myself miffed by God’s interference. If only he’d listened to me, surely things would have worked out perfectly!

But with enough space and time and perspective, I can often look back and see what I couldn’t see in the moment. And when I do, I thank God for interfering.

If things had worked out with Guy X, I never would have met Daniel, who is clearly the man God had in mind for me all along. Thank you, God for interfering.

And that job Daniel applied for a couple of years ago? The organization has since completely closed its doors. Thank you, God for interfering.

As for the house we didn’t get, that loss allowed us to find our home—the one that’s just right for us. Thank you, God for interfering.

And those are just the cases where I can get a glimpse of what God is up to behind the scenes. If only I could pull back the veil between heaven and earth, I’d see that he’s orchestrating so many things for good—and that his definition of good far surpasses what I can grasp.

So here’s what I want to remember the next time God interferes: His interference doesn’t mean he isn’t listening or he isn’t able to step in. It’s his way of saying, “Oh child, hold on. I can see things so much more clearly than you can. Do you trust me?”

Because sometimes God’s interference means he’s too kind to give us what we ask for.

Circumstances may appear to wreck our lives and God’s plans, but God is not helpless among the ruins.
—Eric Liddell

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Your turn . . .

Has God ever interfered with your plans? What happened? I’d love to hear your story.

God’s Stocking Stuffers

Almost two years ago, my friend Mary and her husband, John, went to Ukraine to meet their new son and bring him home. Igor had grown up in rather frugal conditions in the orphanage, so he was pretty blown away by his first Christmas in the States last year. Even now, a year later, he’s still trying to wrap his mind around the extravagant traditions in his new home.

“We get gifts and stockings?” he kept wondering aloud to his older brothers.

I asked Mary if Igor had any special requests for Christmas this year.

“Yes,” she told me with a smile. “He was really excited about the idea of getting an apple in his stocking.”

An apple.

Mary and John were happy to oblige. They’re his parents, after all, and those gifts are just one of many ways they delight in showing their son how much he’s loved.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about God’s gifts to us, despite how undeserving we are. He puts big gifts for us under the tree—or, more aptly, nailed to the tree—things like salvation and forgiveness and reconciliation with him.

He could stop there, and the gift would be sufficient for all of eternity. But that’s not the extent of his generosity. He also stuffs our stockings, showering us with bonus gifts that have no purpose other than to show us his delight in us, to reveal his extravagant love.

The other night as I was climbing into bed, I was greeted by Daniel’s stuffed rat on my pillow. Now lest you doubt my husband’s romanticism, I should assure you that where we come from, “Rat” is actually a term of endearment.

Daniel and I discovered early on when we were dating that among other startling family similarities (for instance: his dad is one of 13 siblings; my dad is one of 12), both our dads called us “Rat” or “Little Rat” as an affectionate nickname.

As we got ready for bed that night, Daniel said with a chuckle, “You know, every time our dads called us Rat growing up, God must have just smiled. Like he was saying, Don’t worry, guys—I’ve got this one.”

My mind wandered back to all those years when I’d been waiting for Mr. Right (as I mentioned in this post), wondering if God would answer my prayers, when all along he had the perfect person for me. Even down to the weird nickname.

I wonder how many other times I doubt God, thinking he doesn’t see my pain, when actually he’s just waiting for the precise moment to reveal the gift he has all planned out. Don’t worry, he must be saying. I’ve got this one.

God gives us those little bonus gifts along the way—stocking stuffers, if you will—not because he owes us anything, but to show us how much he loves us. To remind us that he has our lives covered, even if we can’t see the whole picture yet.

He does, after all, love his little rats.

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