by David Sitzes
A friend of mine sent me a story recently about a man who was on a trip on a big ship going overseas, and as they got close to Italy the captain lowered the anchor to secure the ship and was explaining to the man the reason he had anchored in a certain location.
He said it was based on the direction of the wind and the swing or the pivot of the boat when it was anchored. When a boat lowers or uses its anchor, he wants the rope or the chain that’s attached to the anchor to be long enough to reach the bottom of the ocean or lake floor. And if it does, the anchor is going to hold the boat in place so the wind doesn’t blow or push the boat around or the current push it into the rocks. This made the man start thinking about how God was his anchor and his faith was his chain.
We all are ships out on the ocean of life. Every day we are faced with a new challenge, some good, some bad. And if we don’t have our chain (faith) attached to the anchor (God) as we are tossed about in the winds of trouble, then we could be lost for ever. In Hebrews 6: 19-20 it says, “This hope (faith) we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast and which enters the Presence behind the veil, where the forerunner has entered for us, even Jesus, having become High Priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek.” This speaks of Jesus being our spokesman to the Father on our behalf. He is our anchor as we sail the seas of many waters, some smooth, some rough.
Yes, we go through all kinds of weather of life as we travel through this world. It reminds me of the old man who was sitting on a park bench staring down at his hands for a long time and when asked what he was doing, he replied, “Have you ever looked at your hands,” he asked? “I mean really looked at your hands? Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak, have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They dried the tears of my children and caressed the love of my life. They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war. They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and walked my daughter down the aisle. Yet, they were strong and sure when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off of my best friend’s foot. They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer. These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of my life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And he won't care about where these hands have been or what they have done. What he will care about is to whom these hands belong and how much he loves these hands. And with these hands he will lift me to his side, and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ.”
Our faith, which is the chain connected to the anchor, guides us through our life with our hands, heart, mind, soul and love — and God who is our anchor will see that we will not drift into the rocks that will crush us apart as long as we keep our chain connected to the anchor. Maranatha