This year I started a devotional book called Unpack Your Heart. Though only three weeks into the new year and this devotional, I highly recommend doing it.
The lesson this week is called Soul Room and the memory verse is Hebrews 6:19-20 "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf. He has become a high priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek."
In this lesson, which I'm only on day two, she talks about our soul being a room, that without Jesus is dead and lifeless, but with Him, it is alive and life-giving. Day two's lesson asked "What difference does Jesus make in your soul with His presence?" My answer is "Brings in the light, fresh air. Mold can't grow in His presence (the previous day asked what our soul is like without Jesus, to which I replied black moldy, with isolating darkness spreading the mold). A newness, cleansing. A willingness to keep going, press on. A hope. An anchor. Restoration."
Which brings me back to the title and the verse...an anchor, our anchor.
Making soul decisions without letting Jesus be in the center does lead us to death and lifelessness. And as I'm sure we all have, some decisions I made were soul affecting decisions, without Christ. Along this journey I keep saying I'm asking God and the Holy Spirit to lead me ONE step at a time. I know I can't handle more than one at a time. Some of the steps have been small and easy, and some hard, difficult and takes me a while to take it. Back in September I felt the nudging of the Holy Spirit telling me I needed to make some things right with my husband. I didn't know how to even take that step, but haltingly and stumbling I attempted. And it turned out horribly. He asked me to give him some space and leave the house. I was too numb to think and did leave that night. But my emotions were in such a turmoil in the next couple of days that all I could think is I can't handle this, RUN. So run I did. Hopped in my car, gassed up and just headed out. Made it only as far as Pensacola. And there ended up on the pier. Caught up in a storm, and knowing it was of my own making, made it even worse. There was no one else to blame, no one else at fault. Just me and my choices. I spent a couple of hours leaning over the railing, looking in to the water, watching the waves dash onto the pilings. And wondering what was next. Eventually I needed something to drink and went back into the store on the pier and a bracelet caught my attention. It was leather with a pendant, and carved into the pendant was an anchor. I immediately thought of the memory verse for this week, "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure." I bought it, put it on and went back out to the end of the pier. I stayed out there all day, watched the sun set and as the waves of self doubt, and despair would roll over me, I kept looking at the anchor. Putting my trust in God. Knowing that while I caused the storm, I was also following His promptings in trying to make it right. And that no matter what happened, I had hope, an anchor, if not for my how I may want my life to play out, at least for my soul. Even after leaving the pier I wondered around quite a bit that night, being blown all about in the storm of my own making. Barely able to think or function clearly, yet all the while hanging on to the promise of the anchor. At one point I remember not being able to think or say anything but mumble over and over, "its ok, I have an anchor, its ok, I have an anchor." And God, in His loving kindness, sent me some people via text messages helping to be that anchor that night and for my ship to safely get home.
That particular storm has passed, and as in many storms, we (my husband and I) are both closer and stronger from having survived it.
But this is life, and storms continue to come. Some large, some small. From December 30-January 6 my daughter was battling some mental storms for her own life and was away from us in a safe place that was her anchor for that week. Right on the heels of that I got very sick on January 7, then spent January 8-17 (today) pretty much in bed, unable to do much of anything else. But again, I HAVE this HOPE, this ANCHOR, for my soul. And it is FIRM and SECURE, despite the size of the storms. God taught me so much this past week of not being able to do anything on my own. I learned to be still, I learned to listen, I learned I can't fix everything (I have to learn this lesson a lot unfortunately as I tend to keep forgetting it).
The day I was to get her from the facility was one of the "visualization" days in the study. I had to get her alone, and I frankly was full of anxiety at doing so. Lots of triggers for me in that process. And in that "Chosen" lesson Jesus came to me (I didn't go to Him in my vision, as I felt unimportant, my problem wasn't big enough, he was too busy, others needed him more) but He came to ME. And told me I wouldn't be making that long drive alone. He would be with me. He would be my anchor. At one point while picking her up, I was in a locked tiny room alone, with just one window, covered in bars. A waiting room of sorts. And as the anxiety started rolling over me, I heard Him. "I'm still here with you, higher than the highest mountain, deeper than the deepest sea. There is no where you can go, that I can't be with you." With that I felt His peace, stilling the waves of anxiety that threatened to overtake me. What is cool is that the next day a friend, not knowing all those details, gave me a poster painting of Jesus on a ship calming the storm.
This past week the "visualization" day of the study I was still home in bed, sick. The topic was "Busy In a Tree" and about rest. I was fretting over not being able to do anything and missing so much work. Again, in my vision, I turned and there was Jesus, in jeans and barefoot, sitting cross legged on my bed. He told me he knew I was hurting and sick, and as he said this, he turned ever so slightly, just enough for me to see the scars on His back from being whipped. He told me that it is by His stripes I'm healed, not by my frantic efforts to "fix" things or speed up healing. And the devotional speaker had referred to "racing thoughts" and pent up energy. Jesus reminded me that us humans all tend to have that same tendency, and that He created me as I am. Not to have labels, but to take those racing thoughts when they come and bring them to Him. To cast my cares on Him. That peace doesn't come from pills, serenity doesn't come from syringes and anxiety isn't drowned in alcohol. That He is my cure. The only One that can truly make me whole. And to take the rest of the time I was sick to rest, strengthen and grow.
As I mentioned earlier, part of that resting included listening. Some of that was listening to my daughter. Not talking AT her, or even to her. But listening, not just to her words, but to her heart, as she opened up and shared with me. She and I cried with each other, for each other, held each other and bonded in a way we haven't in a very long time.
So I continue on this journey, step by step, through the calm and through the storms. Knowing that whatever comes my way, that my soul will be firm and secure, as long as I keep my hope in Him as my anchor.
