“This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls” (Hebrews 6:19a NLT).
When I read those words, I picture a heavy anchor held fast to the ocean floor, and at the other end of its chain, I visualize a ship not simply rooted in place but instead swirling with a massive current until it goes ’round and ’round in a circle, but it holds fast.
That just gets me. If my life is a ship on an unpredictable sea, an anchor is one thing I don’t want to be without. When the storms come, I don’t want to be carried willy-nilly. I want to be held fast by something stronger than my own strength and determination.
It reminds me of a chronic condition I have called wandering-itis. I’ve been looking for something my whole life. Even I don’t know what it is. I catch glimpses of it, but I’ve never caught it in my own hands. This ship of mine has been there and back again. She doesn’t have a home port, and sometimes her rudder gives out. If any ship needs an anchor, it’s the U.S.S. Wanderlust.
Like you, I’ve seen my share of storms. The sort my faith wouldn’t have made it through if it didn’t have an anchor. It holds me when I don’t have the strength to steer on my own.
The verse before verse 19 says, “Therefore, we who have fled to him for refuge can have great confidence as we hold to the hope before us.”
It’s God’s irrevocable promises that give this hope which is our anchor. He has promised eternal life, hope, mercy, advocacy, forgiveness, and so much more, and because He cannot lie, this hope is the only thing we can anchor ourselves to. It’s secure. Completely.
I have to admit, an irrevocable promise is something I need. In this temporal world, where even the best fades and the closest fall away, certainty can feel like the fiction I write. But it’s not. We can dare to trust. And dare to hope.
Imagine a hope that doesn’t hurt except for the longing of its fulfillment.