Rancho Bernardo Community Presbyterian Church

Most of us were taught as children that it isn’t polite to interrupt. However, there are times when something is urgent enough to warrant an interruption. “Dad, the cat is on fire.” Okay, that warrants an interruption. “Can I have an ice cream cone?” This is not worthy of interrupting two adults in conversation. What warrants an interruption?

During our first six months of marriage, Kate and I lived in my grandparent's garage. Actually, the garage had been converted into a tiny guesthouse. Kate cooked in a toaster oven. A card table and two folding chairs filled the living space. We lived there rent-free until we moved to seminary. As a partial thank-you for letting us live in their back yard, Kate invited my grandparents for a home cooked lasagna dinner one evening. We could barely fit four folding chairs around the card table.

Now, in order to appreciate the next part of this evening, you need to know something about my grandmother and me. We are both talkers and interrupters. We loved to debate theology and politics, news and social concerns. The way our conversations worked was that while one talked, the other waited for the breath so we could interrupt and take the conversation another direction. Kate, on the other hand, came from a family that was extremely polite. As a child she was never allowed to interrupt.

Early that evening Kate realized she had failed to turn on the toaster oven. The lasagna would be an hour late. Kate waited politely to tell us. While my grandmother and I talked, Kate waited, and waited and waited. Finally, when my grandmother and I both paused for a breath at the same time, Kate was able to fit a word in edgewise. She said hurriedly, "I forgot to turn on the toaster oven. I was going to apologize for the lasagna taking so long, but now that I have a chance to say something, it is cooked and dinner is ready."

When it comes to sharing Jesus’ love with our neighbors, do we see this as urgent enough to warrant an interruption, or merely polite conversation? Can we be too polite when it comes to telling people about Jesus?

Read 2 Samuel 18:24-33.

Our grandson has discovered knock knock jokes. His new favorite one goes like this. “Knock, knock” “Who’s there?” “Interrupting cow.” “Interrupting…” “MOO!” The best part about this joke is that it works for interrupting horse, interrupting chicken, interrupting sheep. It is wonderfully adaptable.

On January 13, 1982, Air Florida Flight 90 was delayed by nearly two hours on its departure from Washington to Fort Lauderdale. The plane crashed on takeoff in the icy, snowy conditions. All but four passengers and one crewmember died. The black box recorded an amazing dialogue between the captain and the co-pilot. The co-pilot gave several signals that he did not feel comfortable proceeding with the takeoff but they were already waiting in line and everything was ticking off according to plan, so he could not bring himself to stop the proceedings.

Transcripts of the cockpit that day show that the co-pilot knew there was a potential problem with the ice on the wings but could only joke about it. He mentioned the fact that public schools would probably be canceled due to the terrible weather. The pilot commented that they could no longer see the landing strip, and the co-pilot noted that the ice hanging on the wings would cause extra weight. He mentioned how difficult it was to get over the Washington monument in such weather. He did everything but interrupt the procedures.

Is it possible that we are sometimes too polite when it comes to sharing God's love with others? The Bible reminds us that there are times when an interruption is warranted.

King David's son was in a battle. Two messengers had a footrace from the field of battle to bring news to the King. When the first runner arrived, King David interrupted the battle report to ask the most important question on his mind, "What about my son? Is he alive or dead?" Compared to the latest battle statistics, the life of his own son was more important. The first messenger only knew that King David's army had won the victory. He had no information about Absalom, the king's son. David interrupted the first messenger in order to hear the second messenger's report that his son had died.

Jesus interrupted the natural flow of Nicodemus' conversation. Nicodemus was entering the conversation politely with some affirming comments about how well Jesus was doing in his ministry. Nicodemus was moving the pawns before bringing the queen out. Jesus jumped straight to a dramatic move that put Nicodemus in check. "You need a new birth." Nicodemus was uncertain how to respond to such a bold move. "What are you talking about?" Jesus responded that Nicodemus needed something only God could give him. He needed new life. Jesus interrupted the polite flow of conversation to say something profound.

A young medical student, Willfred Grenfell, recalled his first impression of Dwight L. Moody, the famous nineteenth century evangelist. Grenfell slipped into the back of a meeting strictly out of curiosity. Grenfell had just completed his hospital calls for the evening when he decided to see what had attracted the crowd at a nearby lecture hall. As he walked into the back of the room he discovered there were some pastors on the platform and one was leading the crowd in a boring, lengthy prayer. The student could feel the antsy crowd losing interest. Since Grenfell's own father was an Anglican priest, he had heard plenty of such religious prayers in his lifetime. In fact, he was turning to leave the room when a vivacious man on the platform jumped up, interrupted the prayer, and shouted, "Let us sing a hymn while our brother finishes his prayer."

Willfred Grenfell was astonished that anyone would be so bold as to interrupt a prayer. He turned to someone and asked who that man was. He learned it was the guest preacher for the evening, Dwight Moody. Moody had realized he would lose the crowd if he allowed the boring prayer to continue. He cared enough about reaching them with Christ's love to interrupt a pastor's prayer.

Willfred Grenfell encountered Jesus Christ in a significant way that evening. He completed medical school and decided to follow Christ's call into medical missions in Labrador. As the only doctor there, he built clinics and hospitals. He evangelized the Indians and Eskimos as well as the English people. He spent forty years in medical missions, eventually receiving numerous honors. He always gave credit to Dwight L. Moody who had the sense to interrupt a boring prayer in order to share the excitement of Jesus.

The year after our oldest son's coma was the hardest year of my life. Nate came out of an encephalitis coma in his junior year of high school and entered the hell of deep depression. We would later discover through counseling that his depression was made much worse by the chemical imbalance of the brain, which made his obsessive-compulsive disorder spin out of control. When he had negative thoughts, they became locked in his brain and were repeated hundreds of times. This was particularly dangerous when it came to his suicidal thoughts.

During the fall of Nate's senior year, he became even more disengaged from our family. He spent most of his time alone in his room after school. He clearly hated school. The only thing he had left was his part-time job. Kate and I worried and prayed, but did not know what to do. On the eve of his eighteenth birthday in October, he took some Halloween fake blood and wrote the word "suicide" on the inside of the window blind in his bedroom. The letters looked like they were dripping blood. For a week or two I could not decide what to do. I questioned the rest of the children to see if this was the name of some popular rock band whose music he enjoyed. They did not know of any such band. Kate and I talked about the balance between stepping in and invading his space versus showing trust in him by respecting his own bedroom. Finally, one day as I was driving him to his work (he was not allowed to have a driver's license due to the seizures), I asked him about the word he had written on the window blind. "Nate, do you ever think about suicide?" He responded honestly, "All the time!" I was scared. My heart was pounding as I proceeded. "Nate, I know you aren't going to like this. But today, while you're at work, I am going to take down that window blind. I know it is your room, but it is still our house."

Nate exploded. He was so angry with me. He told me he hated me. According to him, I had never respected him. He wished I were dead. It was ugly for a few moments. When he climbed out of the car he slammed the door and did not look back. I went home and took down the window blinds and removed the fake dripping blood word, "suicide."

Within a couple of months Nate was on medication for his chemical imbalance and we were in family counseling. Over the next year our family dynamics improved significantly. Nate's medication for his depression and obsessive-compulsive disorder turned his life around. The counselor worked with me on my relationship with Nate.

It was more than a year later that I discovered what had happened in Nate's mind that day. The counselor complimented us that we were doing so much better. Nate was nodding his head in agreement that things were indeed better. The counselor looked at Nate and asked, "Do you know that your dad loves you." Nate nodded as he said he knew that. Then the counselor asked, "At what point did you discover your dad loves you?" Nate looked at me and then answered the counselor, "The day my dad took down the word 'suicide'."

Who needs you to interrupt them this week?