It was a beautiful day in Long Beach, CA. We were doing what we normally did on our days off. Laying on the beach, and swimming through the waves. Just as quickly as I had dove through the wave, I was slammed by the next one, and pounded into the ocean floor. I had no life jacket, no safety raft, and no anchor. It felt like an eternity of trying to get to the shallow surface, although I was probably held down for about 5-10 seconds the most. I remember the force of the wave, and I remember the fear that I wouldn’t breathe the California air again. Because even in a few seconds, your life flashes before your eyes.
Her anchor that had settled on sifting sand blew away with the deflated life vest that once carried “hope”
And so goes life. One minute you are riding the waves, and the next you are tossed around out of control with no life jacket, no safety raft, and no anchor. I remember her and the heart break she experienced without a Hope. I remember how lost she was. I remember that she felt like her world had caved in. The person she loved the most had caused more damage than she could stand. She laid down in the parking lot and cried, because she couldn’t stand to walk up the stairs to her apartment. Her inflatable life vest had a gash the size of Texas in it, and her anchor that had settled on sifting sand blew away with the deflated life vest that once carried “hope”.
I think back on her, and how she had so quickly lost her way. How firm her faith had seemed, and yet how rapidly it all fell apart. What once seemed secure, now she had placed her hope and her worth in things that could be washed away quicker than the changed tides. I remember the glimpses of Jesus love through it all. I remember being at a random church one Easter, and how I had to hold on to my friends arm as we left because I could barely stand as I felt “rocked to the core” by God. I remember falling in love with Jesus for the first time. I remember the sweetness, and the depth I felt with Him. I remember thinking that it would be really hard to fall in love with someone, because nothing could ever compare to the love I felt with Him.
As I continued to follow Jesus, and get to know the One who knit me together in my mother’s womb, I also began to secure my anchor. The anchor that was held within the veil, until the veil was torn and Hope was made reachable to us through the death of Jesus. Before that, the presence of God, Holy of Holies, was separated from man by a veil in the Temple, only to be accessed once a year by the high priest who would enter and make atonement for the sins of the people of Israel.
We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.
Can you imagine relying on someone else to bring you your hope and your redemption? And only once a year? I would constantly feel like I was being tossed around in the waves, barely able to get a breathe of fresh air, and being pounded into the hard ocean floor over and over and over.
This wasn’t how we were created. We were created to live in community with God, not separated, everyday, every moment together, now. I so desperately want that. I am so dependent on that. Don’t wait another moment. Life is fleeting. Secure your anchor in the Truth that Jesus came to die and rise again so that you can have eternal life, and walk in community with the One who knit you together in your mother’s womb. You were hidden, yet fully known. Your soul can be secure through the waves because you can confidently approach His throne without hindrance.
Thank you Jesus for coming, and tearing the veil so that we can approach your throne confidently, without hindrance. I don’t want my anchor loosely laid on sifting sand. I don’t want my hope to be able to blow away like a deflated life vest. I don’t want my security to be in dependence of another, only to be washed away like the changing tide. I want my anchor firmly embedded in Jesus, Solid Rock. Because when my anchor is secured with Him, I know that my weary soul can weather the wind and the waves because the One who holds the world in His hands is the One who is securely holding me.