The word cruise sends a certain type of feeling through my body. Cold sweats. Dry mouth. Clammy hands. Twisted stomach. Gagging.
I don’t have sea legs. I’m not a sea-faring person. Whenever I go to sea, I vomit. Violently. And I don’t stop until I am back on land.
But you can’t tell that to a cruising person. I’m not sure if you’ve had a similar experience, but people who have been on a cruise seem to think everyone should go on a cruise. No matter how hard I try I am hopeless to explain how cruising is most definitely not for me. There are no remedies, no drugs for my condition. I mean, I once vomited after body boarding.
In the literal sense I have no experience with anchors whatsoever. In the spiritual sense I have been throwing out anchors all my life.
Hebrews 6:19 This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls. It leads us through the curtain into God’s inner sanctuary.
This hope is not a wish or desire that may never be fulfilled. This hope is an expectation of what is sure.
When storms rage – storms attacking my confidence, storms of fear, storms of persecution, storms of sickness, storms attacking my identity – I have an anchor keeping me grounded and steadfast to what is true. An anchor which enables me to weather the storm.
I have hope.
1 Peter 3:15 And if someone asks about your hope as a believer, always be ready to explain it.
So let me explain.
The first anchor I ever threw out in my life is the anchor of salvation.
1 Peter 1:21 And you have placed your faith and hope in God because he raised Christ from the dead and gave him great glory.
Humanity could not fix sin. We needed a Saviour to make the bitter waters of our lives sweet. As an eight-year-old child I prayed in my bed that when I die I would go to heaven. I believed only Jesus could save me. I put my hope in Him.
I haven’t seen God. I haven’t seen heaven. But when this life is through, I will be in Paradise with my Saviour. I knew it then and I know it now.
This hope is an anchor for my soul.