The Anchor Holds

Life has a way of rocking us. Storms rise, waves crash, and sometimes it feels like everything we’ve tied ourselves to is breaking loose.

For me, the storms weren’t just emotions like anxiety or depression — they were the real events that shook my life to the core. Adoption wounds. Lies the enemy whispered about not belonging. The night I witnessed a double homicide. Sleepless nights spent looking over my shoulder, wondering if I’d ever feel safe again.

I tried to anchor myself with distractions. With people. With work. Even with numbing the pain. But none of it held. Distractions only carried me farther out. People meant well, but they were tossed by storms of their own. Numbing the pain only left me empty.

That’s the danger of drift — it doesn’t happen all at once. You think you’re steady, but little by little, the current carries you until you realize you’re far from shore.

But Hebrews 6:19 speaks a different truth:

“We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain.”

That’s not fragile hope. That’s not wishful thinking. That’s bedrock.
The cross proves it. The resurrection seals it. His blood anchors your forgiveness. His promise anchors your future. And His presence anchors your right now.

On November 14th, after days without sleep and fear that had wrecked me inside and out, I felt like I was losing grip on reality completely. But even then — the Anchor held. Not because I was strong, but because Jesus had already tied Himself to me.

So how do you hold fast today?

Prayer — raw, honest, unpolished cries to God.
The Word — declaring truth louder than the lies.
Worship — lifting your eyes above the waves.
Community — letting others tie you closer to Him when your grip feels weak.

Storms will come. Waves will hit. But your anchor isn’t fragile. Your hope isn’t wishful thinking. It’s Jesus.

⚓ The Anchor still holds.