I do not want people to come to Jesus because of the crisis of the moment. That is both shallow and horribly reactionary. Rather, I would want people to allow the crisis of the moment to show them all of the reasons why not coming to Jesus before the crisis was the real crisis.

Fear tells me that while there might be a host of people who wish to stand beside me in times of crisis, the tangled wreckage is sometimes so enormous that the best of their efforts leave them stranded at a great distance. And standing desperately alone surveying the carnage that holds all others a bay, God suddenly taps me on the shoulder, leans over and whispers, 'how about a little demolition?

As for any of us in crisis, hope is the one thing that’s everything.

Tragedy descends, and in the carnage our enraged cynicism screams ‘If there was a God, He would not have allowed this!’ And somehow we’ve conveniently forgotten that once upon a time He allowed us to tell Him to go away, and once upon that time we allowed ourselves to take Him up on that offer.

I think that we should be less focused on the crisis and more focused on what we can learn from the crisis. For the biggest crisis of all is the crisis of repeating the crisis.

The real crisis in any crisis is not the crisis itself. Rather, it is having missed the opportunities within the crisis.

Why is it that crisis pushes me to my own devices when those devices are frequently the very things that produced my crisis in the first place?

I disagree. Now is ‘not’ the time to take action. Now is the time to be thoughtful, reflective and prayerful. The action comes after that.

Why does not the stunning evidence of the last miracle grant me confidence in the next crisis? Because my immaturity does not permit such a faith, my desperate prayer is that God would grant me a robust faith sufficient to trust Him not for one crisis, but for an eternity of miracles.