A few years ago, my family was blessed to be able to regularly use the services of a boat club. It gave us most the benefits of owning a boat and none of the responsibility.  Before each excursion, the dockmaster would check over the boat with us to ensure we had everything we needed. One thing they did every time without fail was to make sure the boat had at least one anchor and that we knew where that anchor was stored. And I'm embarrassed to say that on more than one occasion, when we needed the anchor, we had all forgotten which of the many compartments contained the anchor. When you are being pushed by the tide towards shallow waters or towards another boat, not having your anchor ready can be a stressful situation. Too many of my arguments with my wife during those years were while we were trying to anchor a boat.

     Anchors matter. And having them when you need them is imperative. And not just on boats. This has come to mind lately as people ask how I'm able to handle the turmoil of my (still not final!) diagnosis. The past two months have upended our lives and radically shifted our course.  How am I able to stay calm and at peace in this storm? I don't share that to make myself sound more pious or spiritual than others. I am amazed and thankful for the peace the Lord has given me. And the only explanation I have is that for a long time now, I've known where my anchor is.

     There's a book I read many years ago that I no longer remember, but I have kept with me a quote from it that speaks to this important idea:

"When the storm is raging it is too late to talk about the anchor that should have been put down before the storm began. What I mean is that it is so important that we should try to think clearly before disaster falls upon us. If we do, then in spite of all our grief we have a philosophy of life that steadies us as an anchor steadies a ship. If we do not, the storm is so furious that little can be done until it has abated" (Leslie Weatherhead, The Will of God).   

     Weatherhead's point is this - if our understanding of God is not deep enough to handle the crises of life, then when those crises come (and they will come), we will be tossed about and truly shaken. But if, before the storms of life, we are anchored in the truths that are deeper than those storms, then we can be held steady despite the wind and waves.  The one who knows and understands God and his promises can say with David in Psalm 16:8, "I have set the LORD always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken."

     But - and I cannot stress this enough - the anchor needs to be ready before the storm comes. Though he doesn't use the anchor imagery, theologian D. A. Carson says something very similar. At the beginning of his insightful treatment of the theology of suffering, Carson clarifies that his book (How Long, O Lord?) is not intended for the person who is currently in the storm of suffering. He explains,

"Primarily, this is a book of preventative medicine. One of the major causes of confusion and devastating grief among Christians is that our expectations are false. We do not give the subject of evil and suffering the thought it deserves until we ourselves are confronted with tragedy. If by that point our beliefs- not well thought out but deeply ingrained- are largely out of step with the God who has disclosed himself in the Bible and supremely in Jesus, then the pain from the personal tragedy may be multiplied many times over as we begin to question the very foundations of our faith."

     If our view of God is that he rewards our doctrine, our tithing, or our morality with a life of relative ease and comfort, then we have no true anchor for the storm, because that is not who God is.  The storm will expose that falsehood and leave us adrift.  If our view of God is that he is vindictive, punishing our sin with painful experiences, then we will be tossed about when we experience a difficult trial that is out of proportion to what we think we deserve.  If our view is that our faith is powerful enough to prevent or overcome the storms of life, then that anchor will not hold during the difficulties that pay no regard to our confident prayers.   

     I know that some of you who read my blog are in the middle of your own storms right now. My heart hurts with you, and I pray that you have good anchorage to keep you steady. Some of you, as you read these things I share, have been able to "borrow" my anchor, and that encourages me.

     But many of you are not in the storms right now. To you I say, make ready your anchor. Know where it is and how to find it. Be ready before the storm.

     I had intended to explain in the rest of this blog what my anchor looks like, but I've already gone on long enough. The next post will explore the three-pronged anchor that steadies me during the storm.