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This morning the Lord spoke to me about my default position in a crisis. He let me know that what I choose is very, very important.

God is the only God who, when I look into His eyes, I understand who I am. He gives me a revelation of how greatly He values me. How treasured I am. He makes me alive. His life fills me with love, with light, with hope, with joy. I don’t get that when I look in the mirror. I only see what’s wrong, what’s missing, and what’s broken.

When I come to Him, He does not show me what’s wrong or missing. He simply begins to fill me with Himself and there is nothing wrong or missing or broken in Him. He shows me I am the righteousness of God in Christ Jesus. Beauty for my ashes. The oil of joy for my sadness.

When I come to Him, He does not show me what’s wrong or missing or broken in you, either. He shows me His great joy and delight in you. He shows me His heart that is huge with love for you. He shows me His great faith that you will come closer, with a whole heart, to know Him. Love believes all things. There is faith in God. He planted it in us. His faith that we would respond to Him is what led Jesus to the cross. His compelling love is why Jesus laid down His life so the Father would have His heart’s delight, which is us. For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only son.

When I’m challenged in my life, my default response is to start searching my heart, listing my failures, recounting my sins, seeking my place of repentance. I cannot see His heart. I do not know His word about me or my situation. I cannot feel His love. Condemnation and confusion become my food. In a crisis, I rarely see His heart for others. Usually, strife and frustration come into my relationships. Peace and joy flee. This position of looking to my self, leaning on my strength or understanding is not God’s way for me when I am in trouble.

My other default in a crisis is to look for an enemy. I begin looking for what the enemy is doing in my life. Questioning, searching him out, focusing on him instead of Jesus. Stepping off the narrow path of God’s leading, I venture into a murky, smelly swamp looking for the evil force I know is hiding to ambush me. I think if I can identify him, I can conquer him. Shushing God when He tries to get my attention saying, “ Just a minute, can’t you see I’m busy here? I’ll be right with you,” as I continue my quest for understanding the swamp.

Neither one of these responses leads to life. The only response I should ever have is to run into my heavenly Father’s arms. To seek Jesus. To wait for the still small voice to speak. Because I cannot know He’s working in me through the crisis if I do not go to Him. Sometimes He wants to teach me strategy. Sometimes it’s faith and patience. Sometimes it’s to reveal how big and good He is. Or to show me how much authority I have in Jesus. And sometimes He wants to tell me something about Him I never even dreamed of before. Something beyond my understanding.

I forget that everything in my life is an invitation to a conversation with God. He waits for me to show up. To confirm I’m choosing Him. That my heart is focused on His heart. That He matters to me. That I will listen. I will wait humbly before Him for power from on high. Submitting to God and resisting the enemy driving him out. The Father sees in the darkness so I don’t really need to. I simply need to listen for God to tell me what I’m to do. What I’m to resist. What I’m to cast out. Where I need repentance. Where I need worship.

I can only get what I need from spending time with God. His answers are bigger than what’s inside of me. He is of heaven and I have no frame of reference for what’s in Him. I can only see what’s in Him when I stop, ask, seek, and knock. My need is a temporary affliction. His answer builds a permanent, unshakable foundation under my feet. Someone said that Jesus was a master at changing the conversation. The apostles would ask about something and Jesus would start talking about a completely different topic. He does that to me. I have a need. I ask for a provision. He starts talking about flowers, or a city on a hill, or water faucets.

I have to turn the care of my situation over to Him before I can let my curiosity loose to follow His new topic. When I seek to see Him, looking down this narrow path, I look up and He’s there. When I see Him, I see everything I need, every single thing is in Him. HE is what I need. And He dwells in me. I have everything I need, I just didn’t see it or believe it or experience it. Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of the unseen. With faith and patience, I inherit and experience what is already mine because He is mine. I am my beloved’s and He is mine.

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