We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.
—HEBREWS 6:19
Long after the kids are bathed and put to bed, the single mom stares at the bills and checkbook balance. Too many of the first, not much in the second. She’s called on all her friends. She’s cashed in all her favors. There aren’t enough hours in the day to earn more money. She stares out the window of the small apartment and wonders where to turn.
Then there is the weary man in the ICU standing at the bedside of his only love. He can scarcely remember a day without her. They married so young. He has never known anything as pure as this woman’s heart. He leans over her face and strokes her white hair. No response. The doctor has told him to say goodbye. The husband is all out of hope.
And what about the executive who sits behind the big desk in the corner office? His handshake is firm; his voice sounds confident. But don’t let his demeanor fool you. If solvency were a jet, his is in a tailspin. His banker wants to meet. His accountant wants to quit. And hope? Hope boarded a train for the coast and hasn’t been seen for a week.
You know the feeling. We all do. Even the cup-is-half-full, sanguine souls who use the lyric “the sun will come out tomorrow” as their cell-phone ring. Sometimes we just run out of hope. When we do, where can we turn?
I suggest we turn to this great and precious promise: “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf” (Heb. 6:19–20).
Look at the key terms of the first phrase: anchor and soul.
You don’t need to be told what an anchor is. You’ve held those iron castings with the pointed edges. Perhaps you’ve thrown one from a boat into the water and felt the yank as the tool found its lodging place. The anchor has one purpose—to steady the boat. To weather a blast of bad weather, you need a good anchor. You need one like the tattoo on Popeye’s forearm—strong and double pointed. You need one that can hook securely to an object that is stronger than the storm. You need a good anchor.
Why? Because you have a valuable vessel. You have a soul. When God breathed into Adam, he gave him more than oxygen; he gave him a soul. He made him an eternal being.
Because of your soul, you wonder why you are here. Because of your soul, you wonder where you are going. Because of your soul, you wrestle with right and wrong, you value the lives of others, and you get choked up at the singing of the national anthem and teary-eyed at the sight of your baby.
Your soul unites you to God. And your soul needs an anchor. Your soul is fragile. It feels the pain of death and knows the questions of disease. Your liver may suffer from the tumor, but your soul suffers from the questions. Hence, your soul needs an anchor, a hooking point that is sturdier than the storm.
This anchor is set, not on a boat or person or possession. No, this anchor is set in “the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf” (vv. 19–20). Our anchor, in other words, is set in the very throne room of God. We might imagine the anchor attached to the throne itself. It will never break free. The rope will never snap. The anchor is set, and the rope is strong. Why? Because it is beyond the reach of the devil and under the care of Christ. Since no one can take your Christ, no one can take your hope.
Do critics define your identity? No, because God said, “Let us make human beings in our image” (Gen. 1:26 NCV). That includes you.
Can challenges deplete your strength? No, because “we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ” (Rom. 8:17). You have access to the family fortune.
Are you a victim of circumstances? Not in the least. “When a believing person prays, great things happen” (James 5:16 NCV).
Does God have a place for the small people of the world? You bet he does. “God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble” (1 Peter 5:5 NKJV).
Can anyone understand what it is like to lead your life? Jesus can. “Our high priest is able to understand our weaknesses” (Heb. 4:15 NCV).
Do you feel all alone with your problems? You aren’t. Jesus “is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us” (Rom. 8:34).
Can God ever forgive your failures? He already has. “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 8:1).
Is the grave a dead end? Just the opposite. “Death has been swallowed up in victory” (1 Cor. 15:54).
Will the sorrow ever end? Sometimes it feels as if it won’t. But God has assured us: “Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning” (Ps. 30:5 NLT).
Will you have the wisdom and energy for the remainder of your life? No, you won’t. But the Holy Spirit does. “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you” (Acts 1:8).
Life isn’t fair! But it will be, “For [God] has set a day when he will judge the world” (Acts 17:31).
Death, failure, betrayal, sickness, disappointment—they cannot take your hope, because they cannot take your Jesus. You may believe this but still ask, “Is there any hope?” when you find yourself overwhelmed by tough times.
Are you asking that question? Are you the single mom who has no resources? The man in the ICU with no strength? The businessman with no answers? Are you asking the question, Is there any hope?
Jonathan McComb did.
The McCombs were the picture of the all-American family. Two young, beautiful children. Terrific marriage. Jonathan worked ranches. Laura sold pharmaceuticals. They were God fearing, happy, busy, and carefree. Then came the storm. Rain was in the forecast. But a once-in-a-century flood? No one saw it coming. The Blanco River rose twenty-eight feet in ninety minutes and roared through the South Texas hill country, taking homes, cars, and bridges with it. Jonathan and his family sought safety on the second floor of the cabin in which they were staying, but safety was nowhere to be found. The house was yanked off its foundation. They found themselves clutching a mattress, riding white water.
Jonathan survived.
No one else did.
When Denalyn and I visited him in the hospital, he could hardly move from the pain. But the broken ribs and hip were nothing compared to the broken heart. Jonathan tried to talk. But he mustered only tears.
A couple of weeks later he found the strength to speak at the funeral for his wife and two children. It seemed the entire city of Corpus Christi, Texas, was present. The church had no empty seats or dry eyes. For well more than half an hour, Jonathan described his wife and children. He spoke of their laughter and joy and how empty his house had become.
Then he said:
People have been asking me how I am doing and how I can stay so strong and positive in a time like this. I have told them that I have been leaning on my family, my friends, and most importantly my faith. . . . After church every Sunday, Laura would always ask, “How do we get more people to come to church and learn about salvation?” Well, Laura, what do you think? They’re here.
A particular verse that I have loved over the years has also helped me along. “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding” (Prov. 3:5). I have no explanation for why such a tragic event like the flood takes place and lives are lost, but I know that God is not going to give us anything we can’t handle. I know that we are here for a little while, but trust me—if I could have every bone broken in my body to have them back, I would do it, but it is not our call. . . . Yes, I know that this entire tragedy is horrible, and I have been angry, upset, confused, and left to wonder why. I have cried enough tears to fill that river up a hundred times. But I know that I can’t stay angry or upset or confused or continue to ask myself why, because I will find out that answer when my time comes and I am reunited with them in heaven. But trust me, that will be the first question I ask.
I took note of the number of times Jonathan used the phrase “I know.”
I know that God is not going to give us anything we can’t handle.
I know that we are here for a little while . . .
I know that this entire tragedy is horrible.
I know . . . I will [be] reunited with them in heaven.
Jonathan was not naive or dismissive. He didn’t react with superficial, shallow belief. He knew the tragedy was horrible. But in the midst of the storm, he found hope, an unshakable hope. He found no easy answers, but he found the Answer. He made the deliberate decision to build his life on God’s promise to restore and renew.
Jesus encouraged his followers to “always pray and never lose hope” (Luke 18:1 NCV).
Never lose hope? Never be fainthearted? Never feel overwhelmed? Never get sucked into the sewer of despair? Can you imagine? No day lost to anguish. No decision driven by fear. This is God’s will for you and me. He wants us to “abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (Rom. 15:13 NKJV).
Abound. What an extraordinary verb to use with “hope.”
For about half an hour last week, the sky became a waterfall. I had to pull my car off the road. Windshield wipers stood no chance against the downpour. Every square inch of the highway was drenched. Rain abounded. God will drench your world with hope.
I once spent a day in Yosemite forest. I could no more number the trees than I could count the stars. Tall ones, small ones. To the right and left. Behind me, before me. Yosemite abounded in trees. God will turn your world into a forest of hope.
I remember, as a child, walking through a cotton field near my grandparents’ home in West Texas. The farm abounded in cotton. I saw no end to it. North, south, east, west: puffy white balls on all sides. God will grant you a summer harvest of hope.
Could you use some abounding hope? Not occasional hope or sporadic hope or thermostatic hope, but abounding hope?
It’s yours for the asking. “Grab the promised hope with both hands and never let go. It’s an unbreakable spiritual lifeline, reaching past all appearances right to the very presence of God where Jesus, running on ahead of us, has taken up his permanent post as high priest for us” (Heb. 6:18–20 THE MESSAGE).
Ask yourself this key question: Is what I’m hooked to stronger than what I’ll go through?
Everyone is anchored to something. A retirement account or a résumé. Some are tethered to a person; others are attached to a position. Yet these are surface objects. Would you anchor your boat to another boat? Heaven forbid. You want something that goes deeper and holds firmer than other floating vessels. But when you anchor to the things of this world, are you not doing the same? Can a retirement account survive a depression? Can good health weather a disease? There is no guarantee.
Salty sailors would urge you to hook on to something hidden and solid. Don’t trust the buoy on the water, don’t trust the sailors in the next boat, and don’t trust the other boat. In fact, don’t even trust your own boat. When the storm hits, trust no one but God. The apostle Paul proclaimed it triumphantly: “we have put our hope in the living God” (1 Tim. 4:10).
People of the new beginning make daily decisions to secure their anchors in the promises of God. And while you are on your journey, I urge you to create a personal book of promises, one you and God can write together. Search and search until you find covenants that address your needs. Clutch them as the precious pearls they are; hide them in your heart so they can pay dividends long into the future. When the Enemy comes with his lies of doubt and fear, you can produce the pearl. Satan will be quickly silenced. He has no reply for truth.
They work, friend. The promises of God work. They can walk you through horrific tragedies. They can buoy you in the day-to-day difficulties. They are, indeed, the great and precious promises of God.
Russell Kelso Carter learned this truth. He was a gifted athlete and student. In 1864 at the age of fifteen, during a prayer meeting he surrendered his life to Christ. He became an instructor at the Pennsylvania Military Academy in 1869. He led a diverse and fruitful life that included stints as a minister, medical doctor, and even a songwriter. But it was his understanding of God’s promises that makes his story relevant to us.
By age thirty Carter had a critical heart condition and was on the brink of death. “Connie Ruth Christiansen writes: ‘He knelt and made a promise that healing or no, his life was finally and forever, consecrated to the service of the Lord.’ Christiansen goes on to say that from that moment on the Scripture took on new life for Carter and he began to lean on the promises that he found in the Bible. He committed himself to believe, whether or not God granted him healing. . . . Carter lived, with a healthy heart, for another 49 years.”1 His decision to trust God in the midst of difficulties gave birth to a hymn that is still sung today.
Standing on the promises of Christ my King,
Through eternal ages let His praises ring,
Glory in the highest, I will shout and sing,
Standing on the promises of God.
Refrain:
Standing, standing,
Standing on the promises of God my Savior;
Standing, standing,
I’m standing on the promises of God.
My favorite stanza is the second verse:
Standing on the promises that cannot fail,
When the howling storms of doubt and fear assail,
By the living Word of God I shall prevail,
Standing on the promises of God.2
Do the same.
Build your life on the promises of God. Since his promises are unbreakable, your hope will be unshakable. The winds will still blow. The rain will still fall. But in the end of your journey, you will be standing—standing on the promises of God.