There are moments when God gets our attention so clearly that we can’t ignore it.
Not because He’s loud, but because He’s unmistakable. Sometimes it’s through a disruption;
something unexpected that shakes our routine and reminds us we’re not in control. Sometimes it’s through goodness; a blessing we didn’t earn, an answered prayer, a season of grace that stops us long enough to say, “God, this had to be You.” And sometimes it’s quieter than that. A gentle nudge. A persistent thought. A holy restlessness that won’t let us stay comfortable where we are.
The shepherds experienced it in a field on an ordinary night that suddenly wasn’t ordinary anymore.
We experience it at the cross.
And just like the shepherds, once God has our attention, we’re left with a question. Not a complicated one. Not a theological one. Just an honest one. “Now what?”
This three-day devotional isn’t meant to rush you toward an answer.
It’s an invitation to slow down. To listen. To notice where God might be speaking in your own life. Not with pressure. Not with guilt. Not with a checklist of things to fix. But with openness.
Because when God speaks, He isn’t trying to burden us. He’s inviting us to move: one step closer, one step deeper, one step more surrendered than we were before.
And sometimes the most faithful response we can offer is simply this: “Okay, God… I’m listening.”
Day 1: When God Interrupts
Scripture: Luke 2:8–9
The shepherds weren’t out there searching for God. They weren’t on a spiritual retreat. They weren’t praying for a sign. They weren’t asking for a breakthrough.
They were just doing what they always did. Same fields. Same sheep. Same routine. Another night shift. Another long watch. Another ordinary moment stacked on top of a hundred others. And then, suddenly, God interrupted their normal.
That’s often how God works.
He doesn’t wait until we’ve cleaned up our schedules or carved out the perfect quiet moment. He doesn’t wait until life slows down or everything makes sense. He steps right into the middle of our everyday lives, the job, the commute, the responsibility, the repetition, and He gets our attention right where we are.
Not because our routine is bad. Routine isn’t the enemy. But sometimes routine becomes the place where we stop expecting God to move. And God interrupts not to disrupt us for disruption’s sake…
but because He has something more for us. More than autopilot. More than survival. More than another night that looks exactly like the last one.
Sure, God’s interruptions are rarely convenient. They almost always mess with our plans. They almost always ask for something we hadn’t budgeted time or energy for. They almost always require us to choose between staying comfortable and stepping into obedience. But they are always intentional.
God never interrupts by accident. He never shows up without purpose. He never gets our attention just to prove He can. Which means the real question isn’t whether God still interrupts. He does. The question is whether we’re paying attention when He does.
Whether we’re listening closely enough to notice the moment when heaven breaks into the ordinary… and whether we’re willing to respond when it does. Because sometimes the most significant move of God in your life won’t come in a moment you planned for. It will come in the middle of a night that felt just like every other one.
Application:
Think about your own life. Where might God be trying to get your attention right now—through a conversation, a circumstance, or even a quiet restlessness? Don’t rush past it. Pause and acknowledge it.
Prayer:
God, help me notice when You are at work in my everyday life. Give me eyes to see and a heart that’s open when You interrupt my routine. Amen.
Day 2: After God Speaks, The Question Comes
Scripture: Luke 2:15
The angels left. The sky went quiet. The light faded, the singing stopped, and suddenly it was just night again. Just stars. Just sheep. Just the same field they had been standing in before heaven broke in. And the shepherds were left there… with a decision. God had spoken,but now it was on them.
That’s usually how it goes. God doesn’t stay hovering in the sky, making sure we feel brave enough before He asks us to move. He doesn’t follow us around explaining every detail until the risk disappears. He speaks. He reveals. He gets our attention. And then He trusts us with a choice.
And almost immediately, the questions start coming.
Was that really God?
Did I hear that right?
What if I’m wrong?
What if I move and nothing happens?
What if this costs more than I expected?
That’s not doubt. That’s faith forming. Faith doesn’t usually begin with confidence. It often begins with a question, with uncertainty, with a holy pause, with a moment where staying feels safer… but moving feels necessary.
And what matters most in that moment isn’t having every answer. It’s being willing to take the next step. The shepherds didn’t have a map. They didn’t have a timeline. They didn’t know how this story was going to unfold. They just knew they couldn’t stay where they were. Something had shifted.
Something had been revealed. And staying in the field as if nothing happened was no longer an option.
Because when God speaks, when He truly gets our attention, neutral isn’t neutral anymore. There’s only forward. And faith, most of the time, looks less like certainty and more like taking one obedient step into the dark, trusting that God will meet you there.
Application:
What question are you sitting with right now? Instead of trying to answer all of it, ask God what the next step might be. Faith often starts small.
Prayer:
God, I don’t have all the answers. But I want to be willing. Show me the next step You’re inviting me to take. Amen.
Day 3: The Cross Demands A Response
Scripture: Romans 5:8
Two thousand years ago, God got the shepherds’ attention in a field. Heaven broke into their ordinary night. Light cut through the darkness. Good news interrupted routine. And everything changed.
Then, centuries later, God got our attention again. This time not in a field, but on a hill. A cross raised between heaven and earth. A Savior stretched out in love. The Son of God giving His life so we could have ours.
The cross is not just information. It’s not something we file away as theology. It’s not a story we revisit once a year and then move on from. The cross is an invitation. It is the clearest picture of God’s love… and the loudest call to respond.
Jesus didn’t endure the cross so we could admire Him from a safe distance. He didn’t suffer so we could simply agree with Him. He died so we could follow Him with our lives. And just like the shepherds standing in that quiet field after the angels left, we’re left with the same question echoing in our hearts: Now what?
Not as a threat. Not as pressure. But as an honest response to love that has been poured out without restraint. The answer isn’t complicated. It’s not hidden behind religious language or spiritual jargon. But it is costly. Because responding to the cross always asks us to move. To trust when we’d rather stay in control. To forgive when holding on feels safer. To obey when the outcome isn’t guaranteed. To take a step toward Jesus instead of staying where we feel comfortable.
The shepherds could have stayed in the field and debated what they heard. We can do the same with the cross. Or...we can move. Because when God gets our attention, whether in a field or on a cross, the invitation is always the same.
Come and follow Me.
And the question we’re left with isn’t whether God has spoken. He has. The question is whether we’re willing to respond.
Application:
Choose one tangible response today. Forgive someone. Take a step of obedience. Trust God with something you’ve been holding back. Let your faith move from belief to action.
Prayer:
Jesus, thank You for the cross. Thank You for loving me first. Help me respond not just with words, but with my life. Amen.
The shepherds didn’t stay in the fields. They didn’t analyze the moment to death. They didn’t wait until it felt safer. They didn’t demand more proof.
They moved.
And when they did, they encountered Jesus. Not an idea. Not a rumor. Not a distant story. A real Savior, in a real place, at a real moment in history. And that hasn’t changed.
God still gets our attention...through love.
A love that pursues. A love that speaks. A love that invites us forward. And the invitation is still the same.
Not to have everything figured out. Not to feel fearless. Not to map out the whole journey. Just to take the next step. Faith doesn’t require a perfect plan. It requires a willing heart.
So don’t rush past the question. Don’t numb it. Don’t silence it. Don’t talk yourself out of it. Sit with it. Pray through it. Let God meet you there.
And when you’re ready, not when it’s comfortable, but when it’s honest, respond. “Okay, God… now what?”