Oh Lord, how I yearn to be fastened in heart, mind and soul to Your Spirit; to Your Truth. Oh Lord Jesus, Oh how great the galls of life’s storms roar, across the bows of our lives.
It is within the midst of the storm, that we find immediate recall to the reality of our “finite” life. No, not all, no not often, not any within a specific time, is our scene, ever truly grounded;
ground by a “anchor” one tested as a true steadfast assurance; our grip slips, as we lose our hold on our pride, arrogant boasting, or a masqueraded persona.
The great winds of life ever blow. The glaziers the sudden barriers, losses; trump our drifting hearts, slashing inward, tear at our souls uprooting, bringing forth both tides and ebbs of emotional and physical bleeding.
We scramble to affix our hand, our feet, our vision. Yet the assailing winds, enter without warn, seemingly from nowhere. Our very consciousness is quickly interrupted, thrown, tossed against the banks of our soles shores.
Not one, but many, embrace the mighty winds, despite to new dawn of day. At sunset, we are found without oars in a place, our inner engines; once primed, now flooded with life’s raging torrents within the storm.
Coming, rising; bursting forth, undoing, removing, tearing us loose. Where is our comfort, our castle, our fortress of comfort, our secure niche in time, in space, once a life embraced, now fractured, unrooted, swirling, unraveling; undone.
How are we known? Who’s are we? Is life not more than the ticking of the clock, clamoring sounds races, chases, ups and downs endless staircases of pursuits, pushing, grasping, reaching, leaving, coming.
Where are we going, where is our destiny, leading, pulling, sinking, ever moaning! Do we see, do we look, beyond ourselves, beyond our designed fashions, the frills, surrounding the crippling echo of our emptiness heard against the walls of our own caverns, carved from complacency, webs of indifference, rippled with anger, echoing fears, scattering us, spinning us.
We lose our balance, tossed upward, falling again downward. Fragmented, broken, fleeing from or to an isle of refuge. Where is our Refuge, our Anchor?
The tempest winds ever rising, the fallout of interchanging, crashing strands of dreams, hopes, rhythms gone, assailing winds, bursting, blowing against all natural order.
All normalcy seems vacant. Scars of routines scattered, all seems like empty papier-mâché forts, built by our own design, or endless tunnels, gridded by shattered piece of what was once filled with breaths of meaning, hopes, laughter, purpose, daily engagement, in our quests, our tracks of miles.
Now however, only miles of endless seas, filled with drifting lives, scattered, torn, unraveled, forsaken, bobbing daily, within the harbors of our narrowed shores. Is this our society, caught in the rip tides of unsecured Promise? With a Hope unfailing?
Manmade Anchors, loose their footing, shifting with the weight of hurriedness, demands, temptations blinding our direction. Where is our courage, who shall we fear? Whom is our Anchor?
Once a community, once a village, once a family. Where is our Strength, who holds the true Grid of Life in balance? God created the Earth, God created Humanity. Yet the echoes are all too stifling, who is listening, who is watching, who, whom is your Anchor?
Can unity grow within the parched caverns of our heart? With hearts hardened and cracked where is the true balm. You cry “Peace”, but where is your Anchor? To what, to whom do you seek to weave your heart to, your future, your hope, your legacy?
Worn, torn, broken, dry souls, minds, hearts hardened; Winds blowing, rains pouring, raging seas, miles of wilderness within the hearts of God’s people. Where is your Anchor? Who is your Anchor?
Renewal, Restoration is on the Horizon, will you seek it, will you let go, let go of the papier-mâché anchors, that crumbled beneath your feet, when the Seas roared and life sweeps in like a roaring locomotive. Or naked seemingly sterile, void of Love, Laughter, Joy and Peace.
We need to dream, we need to reach beyond ourselves; we need to wear and share life and love. We were created by the Creator of all life, we are not our own, we cannot make, build or maintain a firm hold to Anchors made with dust. Yes, once we were dust, then born into life a life created by the Creator of Heaven and Earth.
The Lord of All, spoke life into the darkness. Where is your Anchor? To whom, where is your assurance,
Your foundation, your vision, your hope, your breath, your very breath. We have a divine Anchor, in Christ. Christ is our Rock and Redeemer, our Beacon of Hope in the torrents of lives storms.
His hands, arms reaching out, will you give Him yours, who is your Anchor? Do you want stability; do you need courage? Do you cry within your heart for unity?
Come, come to the Shores of His Calming Seas, He awaits your coming, your drawing near, Christ is our True Anchor. Come, come, and gain your life, renew your hope and restore your soul.
We truly have the reality of “Peace”, when we surrender, release our manmade Anchors, and place our hands, our hearts, our lives, into the waiting Anchor of Life, Christ Jesus, Lord of Lord, and Anchor within every storm.
Amen, Amen.
J812light — 8 Jul 2018
