Anchor of Hope

Last weekend I had the absolute joy of going on the women's retreat at my church.  We do it up right at All Souls with a super relaxing, slightly decadent getaway to the lovely Inn at Serenbe (which is soooo my church - Serenbe is like its own working farm + yoga + a little town with cupcakes + wine + a spa + a prayer labyrinth).  I also have a minor freak-out before retreats because it's where the fact that I'm just slightly more of an I than E comes into play (check your Meyers-Briggs if that sentence is confusing).  Part of me wants to meet new people and laugh and talk and share good, deep, true things.  And the other part is inordinately thankful to have a Kindle and roommates who like to go running and yoga-ing and stuff (thus leaving me alone in the room with the Kindle).

Luckily for us ladies, the pastor's wife is also our worship leader so we have awesome music on our retreat.  We sang several new songs on this retreat.  At least they were new to me.  Apparently, if you're in Young Life then you've already discovered Ellie Holcomb.  We sang her song Anchor of Hope several times over the course of the weekend.  This is a rich, rich song with so many different facets of God's character to meditate on, but the words that stuck with me were "He's the anchor of hope for the souls of men." (note: I really, really tried to find a whole listing of the lyrics but came up empty. Internet, where are you hiding these lyrics!?!?)

I'd never, ever, ever (I've also been listening to some new Taylor Swift) thought of hope as an anchor before.  As I began to ponder what that might mean, I realized that I'd always been more of an "elusive-balloon-of-hope" kind of a girl.  I knew that hope was something good, something true, and something real.  Well, I mean, it was going to be real one day and it was kind of real now, or I fully believed now that one day the hope would be real, but it is kind of real already.  So...it's kind of like that whole already/not yet thing.  Although, it seems really, really "not yet" most days in the playing out of day to day life, hence the realization that the way I interact with hope seems more like it's a bright helium balloon with a string that's almost always just out of my grasp.  Every once and awhile I hold onto it for a second, but then it drifts off again.  I like some parts of this imagery - the looking upward and outward and pursing something, but I don't like the not ever feeling like I've really grasped it part.

So looking at hope as an anchor for my soul was revelatory.  Wait a minute, this hope, it's a foundation?  It roots me to my faith, to my God, and to my future.  It actually grounds me when the temptations and stress and fears and trials of this life would cause me to drift too far off course.  It's the nourishment my soul needs in the long hours of the night when healing seems still so far away.  When the depravity and brutality of this fallen world threaten the very fabric of my faith, it's this anchor of hope that provides the knowledge that one day evil will obliterated.  One day, this hope will be finally and fully consummated in the return of Christ.

While I still believe that we're running the race for this hope set before us, it's awfully nice to know that the very same hope keeps me from veering too far off course.

Oh, He's the Anchor of Hope for the souls of men.

Credits:  The balloon art came from this blog - http://ashlieblake.wordpress.com/illustration-friday-drifting/ - on which I have looked at nothing but the page this illustration is from.