Faithful Open-Handed Living: The Balance Of Being Intentional & Interruptible

Learn how to balance discipline and surrender in your walk with God. Discover what faithful, open-handed living looks like, trusting Him in both your plans and interruptions.

For most of my adult life, I’ve been a woman with a plan.

Discipline and intentionality are muscles I’ve trained through years of practice, from my 100-pound weight loss journey to living with chronic insomnia. I learned how to push through discomfort, set goals, follow through, and build strong rhythms.

And those are good things.

But even as I grew more disciplined, shame often followed close behind.

When I couldn’t keep up, I labeled myself lazy.

When I pushed too hard, I told myself I should’ve known better.

I was doing my best with very limited capacity, yet I still managed to chastise myself for doing it “wrong.”
It’s easy to think if we just did faith better, life would smooth out. But we’re human – imperfect, finite, and made to need a Savior.

Discipline isn’t bad, but it can’t carry what only grace can hold.

Somewhere along the way, I started gripping those rhythms so tightly that my structure unintentionally became a source of control, convincing me that I was in the driver’s seat and not the Lord.

If I could just research enough…plan enough…prepare enough…maybe I could keep the chaos at bay.

In my insomnia journey, I read every article, study, and supplement review I could find. I was exhausted — physically, emotionally, and spiritually — and convinced that if I could just find the right answer, I could fix myself.

But even after years of discipline, data, and effort, the cure never came.

What did come, though, was surrender.
A long, slow, gentle loosening of my grip.
A shift from white-knuckled striving to open-handed trust.

Learning the Other Side of Discipline

These days, I’m in a sweeter time…what I call my acceptance season of insomnia.

And that’s not because my nights are easy. A “good” night of sleep for me is still only about four hours, broken up and unpredictable and bad 20-minute nights still happen far too frequently.

But I’ve learned the beauty of acceptance.

Acceptance didn’t come from giving up. It came from gentleness. From finally releasing the pressure to perform for God and letting Him meet me where I was: tired, limited, and loved anyway.

I still do my part maintaining my sleep habits and honoring my body’s needs, but I’ve stopped believing that control will save me.

Instead, I’m learning to hold my routines lightly.

That’s the dance of faithful living:
Intentionality without rigidity.
Discipline without obsession.
Trust without passivity.

Psalm 37:3–5 (ESV) says:

“Trust in the LORD, and do good;
dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness.
Delight yourself in the LORD,
and he will give you the desires of your heart.
Commit your way to the LORD;
trust in him, and he will act.”

It’s a passage that holds both parts of the tension — commit your way (intentionality) and trust in Him (interruptibility). We do the faithful work in front of us…and then we release the outcome.

When Life Doesn’t Follow the Plan

I used to crave predictability – a tidy plan I could count on.

But nobody told that to my body…or my 3 and 5-year-olds.

My well-laid plans are frequently interrupted. A fever, a middle-of-the-night “Mommy, I just wanted a hug,” a spilled cup of milk five minutes before we leave for church.

Our air conditioner broke and needed to be replaced, our power went out on a 110-degree night right at bedtime, there was unexpected conflict in a relationship.

And you know what? Those interruptions used to wreck me.

It sounds silly, but it felt very real to me. Those little interruptions felt big and dramatic, like my world was getting flipped upside-down.

I’d finally hit a good writing flow…and someone would need me.
I’d finally be drifting to sleep after hours of trying…and a child would wake crying.

But slowly, the Lord has been teaching me to see interruptions differently.
They’re not always obstacles. Sometimes, they’re invitations.

That shift didn’t happen because I became a calmer, holier version of myself. It happened because I stopped shaming myself for being human. I started noticing my reactions with compassionate curiosity instead of judgment, asking, “What’s really happening here, Lord?” instead of, “Why can’t I get this right?”

Invitations to pause.
To notice.
To love.
To be present to the moment He’s actually given me instead of the one I planned.

And, really, can we just admit that interruptions are just…life? Something to be expected?

When I stopped clutching my schedule so tightly, I started seeing the grace tucked inside those interruptions – moments of connection that used to slip through the cracks of my efficiency.

A spontaneous coffee date that filled my weary heart.
A late-night cuddle that turned into whispered prayers.
A derailed to-do list that became an unexpected Sabbath.

That’s what it means to live open-handed.

The Tension Between Control and Chaos

If we picture this like a spectrum, on one end is white-knuckled control, living as if everything depends on us.
On the other is total passivity, letting life sweep us along with no intention or direction.

Neither extreme leads to peace.

But if you find yourself on either end of that spectrum right now, please know – you’re not doing it wrong.

You’re just learning. These extremes are part of the process. God doesn’t shame us for the wobble between them; He simply keeps inviting us closer to balance, one surrendered moment at a time.

Faithful living lives somewhere in the middle – a blend of steadfast discipline and soft surrender.

We show up, but we don’t cling.
We plan, but we leave room for God to reroute us.
We prepare, but we stay flexible enough to pivot when His Spirit nudges.

Proverbs 16:9 reminds us:

“The heart of man plans his way,
but the LORD establishes his steps.”

And sometimes, those steps take us in directions we never expected.

One of my former pastors used to talk often about living with open hands.

He’d hold his palms upward as he preached, reminding us that when we close our fists tightly around our plans, possessions, or people, we’re not leaving room for God to move.

Closed hands can’t receive blessings.

When we grip too tightly, we’re essentially saying, “I trust myself more than I trust You, Lord.”

But open-handed living is a posture of surrender — and of trust.

It’s saying, “God, You give and You take away, and I choose to trust that both are for my good.”

The Lord has a pulled-back view of the whole story — the universe, eternity, every moment of our lives.

And while I often think I know what’s best, I can’t see what He sees. What feels painful in the moment may be the very thing He’ll use to bless, refine, or redirect me in the long run.

That’s the heart of open-handed living: holding everything loosely enough that He can place something new in your hands, or take something away, without it destroying your peace.

The Story of Martha and Mary

Luke 10 gives us such a beautiful picture of this balance.

Martha was busy doing good things — preparing the meal, hosting Jesus, checking all the boxes. I feel like Martha can get a bad rap in this story, but I see her disciplined heart here. She was intentional.

But when she became anxious and frustrated, Jesus gently pointed her back to what mattered most.

“Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary.” (Luke 10:41–42)

Mary’s posture wasn’t lazy. It was attuned. She had the discernment to pause, listen, and be present.

Both sisters loved Jesus deeply. But only one made room for interruptibility …the kind that leads to intimacy.

Holding Both: Intentional and Interruptible

I still believe in structure.
I still make plans (color-coded and set in advance whenever I can, thank-you-very-much).
But my open hands remind me daily that I’m not in control. And that’s a good thing.

James 4:13–15 warns against boasting about tomorrow, urging us instead to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.”

That’s the kind of quiet faith I want to cultivate:
Not passive, but peaceful.
Not careless, but surrendered.
Not controlling, but content.

Faithful, open-handed living isn’t about doing more or doing it perfectly. It’s about showing up with intention and trusting God enough to let go when He calls you another way.

It’s about being present enough to notice that sometimes the interruption is the assignment.

A Blessing for You

Wherever you find yourself on that spectrum, tightly gripping or struggling to care, it’s okay.

You’re not too much, and you’re not not enough. Not on your own, anyways. God meets you in both your discipline and your exhaustion, both your planning and your letting go.

He’s not disappointed; He’s present.

May your grip loosen today, not because you’ve given up,
but because you’ve learned to trust the One who holds it all.

May your discipline lead you to delight,
and your surrender lead you to peace.

When plans unravel and life interrupts,
may you have eyes to see the sacred invitations tucked inside the chaos.

And may your heart learn the steady rhythm of faithful, open-handed living—
walking with God through both the order and the unexpected.

Amen.