Submitted by admin on Wed, 03/09/2008 - 8:44am
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An Anchor for the Soul
A couple weeks ago I watched Shawn Johnson compete at the Olympics in Beijing on the balance beam. It's a nerve-wracking sport. Those gymnasts do incredible things on a ridiculously small 4-inch wide beam—back-flips and hand-stands and summersaults—things I never could do even on flat ground, even at the height of my physical agility and prowess.
I wanted Shawn to win because she was from the Midwest, because she hadn't yet won a gold medal, and because she was cute. But she was up against some very stiff competition, and you know how it is with those Olympic judges: just the smallest tremor or the slightest misstep can cost points—perhaps putting you mere hundredths below another gymnast.
Normally when I watch an athletic event, my nerves start to work overtime. I feel the adrenalin pump through my veins—and I'm only watching. But when Shawn took her turn on the balance beam, I had absolute confidence she was going to perform an excellent routine. I was convinced that she would win the competition. I knew it beyond the shadow of a doubt—even before I saw her her perform. I wasn't nervous at all for her.
And do you know why I was so confident? Do you know why I wasn't nervous? Because the competition had happened some 12 hours earlier, and I had already heard the results on the news. I was seeing it for the first time, but the broadcast wasn't live. The results had already been settled.
That's similar to what happens for the believer in Jesus. The results have already been settled. You know how things are going to turn out. Even though you've never seen the events before, you know the final outcome. You've never seen what happens, but you know who wins.
As God's people we have promises from God that tell us what's going to happen. So we have confidence. We don't have to be nervous. We have a glimpse into eternal things even while we're still living in the here and now.
In a word, we have hope.
We live in times when hope is in short supply! People are pessimistic about a lot of things—the price of gasoline, the housing market, job security, inflation, global climate change, the war against terrorism, and so on. And yet, the promises God gave in his Word thousands of years ago are still real. Still true. Because God doesn't want us to place our desires on this world and physical comforts, but on eternity—on a future with him forever.
The writer of Hebrews wrote to people who were discouraged, ready to give up, ready to turn back to their old ways. They faced persecution for their faith—some were imprisoned, others were physically tortured, others had their possessions and homes confiscated because of their commitment to Christ. We get discouraged because the stock market takes a dip—but they faced real trouble. The entire letter is an encouragement to "hang in there and not give up," but let's look at a few verses in particular that talk about the hope we can have and what it can do for us...
11 We want each of you to show this same diligence to the very end, in order to make your hope sure. 12 We do not want you to become lazy, but to imitate those who through faith and patience inherit what has been promised. 13 When God made his promise to Abraham, since there was no one greater for him to swear by, he swore by himself, 14 saying, "I will surely bless you and give you many descendants." 15 And so after waiting patiently, Abraham received what was promised. 16 Men swear by someone greater than themselves, and the oath confirms what is said and puts an end to all argument.
17 Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, he confirmed it with an oath. 18 God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled [from sin, from the world, from legalistic righteousness—from trouble, abuse, fear, despair] to take hold of the hope offered to us may be greatly encouraged. 19 We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, 20 where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf. He has become a high priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek. (Heb 6:11-20, NIV)
There are a lot of people these days who are pinning their hopes for the future on something other than the promises of God. There are a lot of people who have hope in the promises of politicians. We're right between the Democratic and the Republican national conventions. In the next two months we're going to be inundated by promises: promises of a better life, promises of lower taxes, promises of more benefits, promises of safety from enemies.
Politicians who are trying to get elected—trying to win a popularity contest—will make all sorts of promises. They may be well-intentioned; they may want to deliver on their promises. But let me tell you: political promises require far more than good intentions. No one politician can save the country; 535 politicians in Congress cannot save the country. All the political institutions in the country, all the courts in the land, all the institutions of higher learning, all the think-tanks and pundits and critics, all the preachers and prophets and evangelists—all of these together cannot save us.
What we need is God! What we need is spiritual renewal! What we need is Jesus—giving us new hope by the grace of God!
This passage of Scripture says that hope is an anchor for the soul (v 19)! And our souls need an anchor! Why do we need an anchor? Because the human soul is like a boat on the water.
-
Small
things can set us adrift. A boat can drift with only the slightest breeze
or the smallest current. It doesn't take much to move a boat.
—I remember as a kid when I leaned on the bow of the boat while releasing the line that held it to the dock. Before I realized it, I found myself suspended between the dock and the boat—too far out of balance to let go and still stay on the dock but, at the same time, not close enough where I could jump on the boat. I was caught between because of the silent, imperceptible drift of the boat. Leaning was a small thing—but it created large consequences.
—In the same way, simple things can cause us to drift in life—little distractions, small inconveniences, ordinary routines. And small things can lead to huge consequences! "We must pay more careful attention, therefore, to what we have heard, so that we do not drift away." (Heb 2:1)
—We need an anchor so our souls don't drift away. -
Storms can toss us around. Boats don't usually sink in calm seas.
It's when a boat encounters a sudden, intense storm that it's in danger.
—In life, we sometimes think we can get along without an anchor because the sea is usually calm. But then, on occasion, we face powerful winds and stormy waters. They don't come all the time, but when they come, they can be fierce and destructive. Storms can toss a soul from wave to wave, stretching to the breaking point the ropes and joints that hold it together. That's why we need an anchor to hold us in a safe harbor when the storms come!
—Financial storms can undermine your sense of security, robbing you of all your saving plans and efforts. Relational storms can rip your boat apart, tearing your heart out even as your spouse walks out of your life. Emotional storms can disturb your inner peace, sinking your dreams and leaving you unable to navigate life's seas. Spiritual storms can hurl doubts at you, mocking your faith and tempt you to give up.
—Internal storms—emotional or spiritual storms—can be just as bad as external storms. I was on a boat once when the inboard engine caught fire. Flames were shooting up from the engine beneath the deck; smoke came pouring out of the hold. A fire extinguisher put out the fire, but there we sat in Leech Lake, immobilized. We had no engine, no power, no way of moving—not because of an external storm, but because of what happened beneath the deck where no one could see.
—What has happened below deck in your life? What has happened inside where no one else can see? What do you struggle with internally? The storms of life may not always be external events that toss us around. They may be internal struggles of faith or emotions. The effect is the same, however: storms—external or internal—put us in danger.
—We need an anchor to hold us in safe harbor so storms don't destroy us. -
Life is not solid. There are a lot of uncertainties about life. So
many unknowns! Like water, life is fluid, not solid. You make plans, but you
just don't know for sure. "...you do not
even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that
appears for a little while and then vanishes" (James 4:14).
—You can do a lot of things on the water—you can swim, sail, ski. But you can't ride a bike or drive a car or build a house on the water. (Don't tell me about your ice house—you can drive on the ice, but not on water.) Water is fluid, not solid.
—We need an anchor to hold us steady while dealing with the uncertainties of life.
—When I was 11, our family took a vacation on a boat going down the Mississippi River. We went through the locks and the dams; we docked in small towns and hiked to the store to buy groceries; we slept on the boat, all seven of us. Usually we tied up to a dock for the night; occasionally we would anchor next to an island. One night we were more daring and beached the boat on a sand bar. During the night a tug boat pushing a number of barges sent large waves against the beach, which lifted the boat, causing us to drift. My Dad woke up and started the engines, putting us back in a safe place, where we reset the anchor. But we noticed another boat drifting past us in the dark, headed downstream. No one was on deck; all the engines were shut down; no running lights to be seen. It was like one of those ghost ships—only we knew there were people asleep on the boat. They had been on the sand bar just a short distance from us. We honked our horn and flashed our spotlight on their cabin windows to wake them up.
—Just going with the current is dangerous, perhaps even fatal! You just don't know where the current is going to take you—over a dam, into the rocks, anything could happen. Life is full of uncertainties. There are no guarantees that come with this world. Life is not solid.
—That's why we need an anchor to hold us steady, to keep us firm and secure, while we face the uncertainties of life.
The anchor our soul needs is hope!
Not the hope offered by the world, but an eternal hope that comes from God! Hope that gives us the confidence God's promises are true. When the river currents push us toward uncertainties; when the small things of life catch us off-guard and cause us to drift; when the storms toss us back and forth; supernatural hope is what we need to hold us steady, firm and secure in the promises of God.
We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure (v 18). How many of you have gone through a time when you needed something from God to hold you "firm and secure"? This anchor for our soul is hope.
Hope is a strange thing. It doesn't make sense by normal standards. Hope is not something that comes from what we can see with our physical eyes. To the contrary, the evidence all around us flies in the face of hope. The evidence we see is disturbing, frightening, threatening. But hope that comes from God is a deeper, spiritual thing. It holds us steady, firm and secure, despite the physical evidence we see.
This summer I went kayaking with Brent Z and some of the other guys from church. We had a great time, going through the rapids, trying to stay upright. I was doing okay until I came to one of the bigger challenges than what we'd seen up till then. For you experts it was probably nothing, but it was a small waterfall to me—about three feet high—with a deafening roar of cascading water.
But I was in the middle of the current and had no choice but to go along. "Keep straight," I told myself. "Keep facing forward." And just then, I got caught in a little swirl of water and went sideways, just before going off the shelf. "This is it," I thought. "You're going into the water for sure. It's a good thing you're wearing that helmet because you're going to smash your head on the rocks at the bottom of the water falls."
And the current pushed me up to the brink of the falls—and up on to a rock where I promptly got stuck. It wasn't exactly an anchor, but that rock had the same effect as an anchor. And let me tell you, it's a weird sensation to be sitting on a rock, not moving, solidly anchored, while the rapids are tossing and churning all around you.
Hope is a strange phenomenon. Everything around you says, "It's time to panic! It's time to quit! It's time to scream for help!" The troubles, emotions, events, circumstances are tossing and churning all around you, but with hope you sit solid. Anchored. Safe despite what's happening.
Why? Because you have hope as an anchor for your soul. Hope in the promises of God. Hope in the resurrected Christ. Hope for eternity.
I've read about the ancient mariners who learned how to navigate seas before there were GPS units and radar and other modern instruments. For instance, when the fog would set in as thick as soup, and ancient sea captains were trying to get safely into the harbor but they couldn't see their way through the fog, they would send a small boat out from the ship, trailing a line behind it. The small boat could make it safely past the rocks and through the harbor opening to the shore. There a sailor would anchor the line to the shore with a "land anchor." Then the ship could be winched in through the fog, slowly and safely to its destination.
When we face uncertain times, when we can't see the way through the fog, when we can't figure out what's happening in our lives, when we can't understand the events—hope brings us safely into harbor.
19 [Hope] enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, 20 where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf. He has become a high priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek. (Heb 6:19-20, NIV)
Jesus died and rose again. Now he has gone on before us, entering the inner sanctuary behind the fog.
The Message paraphrase says, "18 ...We who have run for our very lives to God have every reason to grab the promised hope with both hands and never let go. 19 It's an unbreakable spiritual lifeline, reaching past all appearances right to the very presence of God 20 where Jesus, running on ahead of us, has taken up his permanent post as high priest for us..." (Heb 6:18-20, MSG).
If ever you have the chance to visit the catacombs in Rome, those tunnels under the ancient city where many of the early Christians were buried, you can see the symbols of faith on their tombs.
Three common symbols appear in the catacombs: the dove, the fish, and the anchor. The dove symbolizes the Holy Spirit. The letters of the Greek word for "fish," ichthus, stand for the words Jesus Christ, God's Son, Savior. The anchor came from the idea that as Christians were going through difficult, insecure times, their hope in God's promise through Jesus Christ anchored their souls. [Stuart Briscoe, "Handling Your Insecurities," Preaching Today, Tape No. 119]
People try all sorts of things to bring security for life. We want stability—a solid anchor to hold us steady. But all the world's answers won't do the job. They can't do the job! Only the hope we have in Jesus can get us through this life! "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure." Other anchors don't hold. Other anchors can't be trusted.
So trust in Jesus! Put your hope in him!