Anchor

I wonder why I wander. Why I willfully set myself adrift in a sea of dangerous musings and self-inflicted confusion. I disconnect. And yet, all along, I'm mercifully and firmly held by my anchor - my rock - my Jesus. I take it for granted. I know He lets me drift because I have free will. And I want to. Or maybe not want to - but I am not concerned enough with staying close to safety. The only true shelter from life's storms. Fear fuels this disconnect. Why do I allow myself to be coerced by fear? I think it's when I forget who I am in Christ. And don't trust His promises to me. He seems far away. I feel forgotten. And small. So I drift. Thinking I can make it on my own. But the further I drift, the more difficult it becomes to float. There's an undercurrent that makes me feel out of control. The waves get rough and toss me to and fro. I start to sink under the weight of my own striving. Doubt washes over me. I realize Christ is the only one who can buoy me without pain. Not people. Not circumstances. Only Jesus. Hope deferred makes the heart sick. In times of heart sickness, I want to stay close to my anchor. But I resist. And I wander. It's scary to be tethered to something that doesn't always feel safe. God's character is not unpredictable. But the way He chooses to answer prayer often is. He is stable. Steady. True. He is safe. But a life fully surrendered feels unsafe a lot of the time. His ways are a mystery to me. The future is daunting and uncertain. I wander from the one thing that can save me from drowning. We all want to know what's going to happen next. God says, "Trust me." And asks for faith long before we see answers unfold. His timing. His ways. His will. Not mine. Not mine. Not mine. Lord, I believe, but help my unbelief. Thank you for your patience with my struggles. Your light in my darkness. Your strength in my weakness. And your unwavering love in my wandering. The anchor remains unmoved. I drift from it. But it is still holding me. And it draws me close in the darkest hour. I rise from the hopelessness. Like always. How high, how wide, how long and how deep is the love of Christ!   I'm holding onto hope. I'm holding onto grace. I'm fully letting go. I'm surrendered to your ways. The anchor for my soul, Father you will never change...