GOD BLESS OUR INTERRUPTIONS by Elizabeth Preston Allan

Pacific Press Publishing Company · OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA · Nov 14, 1900

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 26, No. 46.

"GOD BLESS OUR INTERRUPTIONS."

By Elizabeth Preston Allan

An old friend who was once staying with me, in conducting our morning worship, used this singular form of petition: "Lord, bless our interruptions to-day, and use them in Thy service, and for Thy glory." I was amused at the rather odd conceit; but hardly a day has passed since then that I have not had occasion to make my own this serviceable prayer.

I have known men and women who showed heroism under sharp trial who could by no means stand having their own plan for the day's doings broken in upon. And yet how can we be sure that the chart we draw for ourselves at the beginning of the day is the track over which our Pilot means us to sail between sunrise and sunset?

Of course there are some interruptions against which it is right and wise that we guard ourselves; people who have engagements to meet, and certain hours set apart in which to prepare the sermon or the address or the editorial, must decline to be interrupted except, as the saying is, "in matters of life and death."

But when we have set these bondfolk off to themselves, there remains a large constituency, of women especially, whose time, however busily occupied, is more or less at their own disposal. They may be eager to finish tucking the petticoat, or putting down the carpet, or studying a Bible lesson, or writing a letter, but it can be put off until to-morrow, and, when the interrupter comes, it must be.

And the claim that I want to set up here is that in many cases the interruption is more important than even the Bible lesson. The Bible lesson, or the pot of preserves, was your own plan; but solemn experience has taught us that the interruption is sometimes straight from God. I would like to ask the best rememberer among us how often she has said to herself, with a sigh of relief, "I was very near missing such and such a chance," when it was sometimes a chance of helping and sometimes of being helped.

I am far from being a good rememberer; I am one of the worst, but even I can recall a long list of "interruptions," some of which I accepted patiently and some fretfully, but all freighted with serious responsibilities and opportunities.

One was a proposal on a busy day (when the weather was bad) to do some visiting of poor people; it meant the rescue of an ill woman and hungry children.

One was a call away from a kettle of jelly (and every housekeeper knows how jelly must be timed), which resulted in getting work for a woman almost in despair; work which tided her over despair and gave her the hope necessary to success.

Another brought an opportunity for prayer and a simple offer of the great Saviour, to a woman whose last chance it was to hear the message.

But you have all had such interruptions and such consequences, calls that seemed unreasonable, from work that seemed important. Doubtless you will all agree with me in general terms that these things are sometimes in deed and in truth "matters of life and death."

I only ask you to remember—because I need so much myself to be reminded—that when the door-bell rings and the day's scheme of work falls to pieces, our heavenly Father may be sending you the fulfilment of His promise, "I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go."—Elizabeth Preston Allan.