Hold onto those things that make your heart beat a little faster. The ones that make your palms a little sweaty; your brain a little nervous. But hold onto the One who gave you those dreams tighter. You'll succeed, as long as you're holding onto the One instead of the thing.
Storms are guaranteed in this life. It may not be an F5 tornado, utterly destroying everything in it's path. It may be a quick downpour; a light sprinkle. I don't know. I just know that they are promised. But they are temporary. You may feel like you're living in London for a season- fog and rain misting each and every day. Or you could be in the sunniest, most beautiful season. Either way- know that if you are not anchored, you will be swept up with the debris in the wind. When the thunder rumbles, you'll quake. But you won't be moved. You may get wet; but you will not drown. You will not be submerged or overcome; it's impossible if you are truly anchored. That's the whole point of an anchor-- as good ole' Wikipedia says: "An anchor is a device, normally made of metal, used to connect a vessel to the bed of a body of water to prevent the craft from drifting due to wind or current." So anchor yourself in the One who cannot be shaken; cannot be moved. And thereby protect yourself from drifting seamlessly, without even realizing it. I love that the word anchor comes from the Greek word ἄγκυρα --which translates to what we know as anchor; stay; safeguard [The Bible uses this word just four times, mainly in Acts 27 {verses 29, 30 and 40} then again in Hebrews 6:19]. Maybe I have a greater appreciation for this anchor metaphor since my grandfather was a sailor; but I love, love, love the picture and idea of it. I was also recently awakened to the significance within the actual anchor: The cross boldly displayed in the middle, with a curve at the bottom that extends upward, pointing to the Heavens, that seems to have no end.
[If you want to read more about the storms of this life and the Lord's promises- read through the Psalms. They are rich with story after story of utter despair and distress and true, harsh, brittle anger and depression, followed by the most beautiful words of hope and joy. My favorites include Psalm 40:1-3 "I waited patietntly for the Lord; and He inclined to me, and heard my cry. He also brought me up out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my steps. He has put a new song in my mouth--praise to our god; many will see it and fear, and will trust in the Lord." Followed by verse 12, "For innumerable evils have surrounded me; my iniquities have overtaken me, so that I am not able to look up; they are more than the hairs of my head; therefore my heart fails me." and verse 17, "But I am poor and needy; Yet the Lord thinks upon me. You are my help and my deliverer; Do not delay, o my God. Then the ever powerful Psalm 42-- I wish I could post the whole thing here, but it would be too long. Just go read it-- it's so. good.]
As I sit here typing, the song Lay Me Down [from Passion: White Flag] is playing. And it's my anthem for this year. I think it's been my anthem in years past, but especially, specifically, significantly this year.
I lay me down, I'm not my own. I belong to You alone. Lay me down, lay me down.
Letting go of my pride; giving up all my rights. Take this life and let it shine, shine shine.
Then comes the bridge... It will be my joy to say Your will, Your way.
And I wonder: joy?
Am I really joyous about the Lord's will over my own? I like control. I never fully realized it until someone called me out on it. I am a prideful, in-control person. And of course my pride was so good at making me think I wasn't prideful. Silly, silly Alek. [Let's face it, we're all a little prideful. not trying to call anyone out here-- I just think that as adults, we can all admit that we each have a bit of pride...aftermath of the fall, ya feel?] And pride can kind of be a good weapon. My mom always taught me to stand up for myself; be independent; have my own opinions, and voice them, no matter what. I think those can be good things; so long as they're wielded correctly. However, the second pride begins to take over (which can happen so subtly you scarcely notice), we are in a bad place.
So I sit, and I wonder: joy?
Probably not. Probably more like frustration. Bitterness. Wrestling. Anger. Confusion. Misunderstanding. Struggling. Submitting. Then finally, tearfully, slowly, caving. Giving up. Giving in. Realizing, through the salty drops flowing from my eyes, that of course His plan is better. Of course His ways are higher. Why must I constantly, and I mean, constantly doubt that?! Why do I have to go through the trial and tribulation and frustration and heartache of learning that the hard way? I think He knows that I have to in order to understand just how good He truly is.
If I didn't have to claw my way through my own stubborn ways, would I really appreciate how simple and easy and delightful His way is? He is oh so patient with me. I'm a hard-headed, willful, prideful, selfish, silly, silly daughter. But He knows that. And He loves me nonetheless. [What?? I'll never fully comprehend or get over that...and I pray I never do.]
So this year, I'll stumble. I'll blindly fight through the pain and troubles that are hidden behind every corner. I'll fight my way and I'll keep fighting until I reach the end of me; where Jesus so beautifully stands, waiting for me. He'll lift me on His wings; giving me just the strength and might that I need to make it through the next step. Leading me just beyond my own ability so as to display His majesty and glory working in me; strength that so clearly does not come from my own self. And tenderly, carelessly, we'll walk. Slowly. Knees wobbling, heart racing, yet firmly anchored and supported by the hand that never leaves. The hand that never pushes, but gently nudges. Stretching me to new heights; new loves; new adventures, all with His hand holding mine.
Love this. Here's to fighting to trust that His ways are higher.
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