an anchor

this evening, having begun to reread an incredible book, I decided to catch up on the author's blog that I hadn't read in a while. one of the posts, entitled 'anchorman', spoke to me.
if I could cry at the moment, I probably would have. It resounded so deeply...

"1. Friends are wonderful, whatever their experience.  But there’s something in talking to someone who has experienced the same struggle, that brings special comfort. They get it – and they’re still here. Before everyone else; this is true of Jesus. Whatever you’re going through.  Depression, singleness, addiction, bereavement, joblessness, infertility.  He has walked this path before you. Just before He goes to the Cross, he doesn’t say, ‘Lord – thanks for this opportunity to suffer and glorify you.’ He says ‘is there any other way?’ And when God says ‘no’, even though everything in Him is in agony, He accepts that this is the only way. He trusts that His Father knows what He’s doing, even when the world is ending. You can trust Him and you can trust what He says. He’s got you and when you’re in the furnace, He’s right there with you.

2.It’s okay not to feel it.  It’s okay to cry out and to doubt and to question and to hit things and to be broken.  Think about a toddler that’s having the mother of all melt-downs.  Wailing like the world is ending.  and raining blows on your chest with their tiny fists. What do you do with this child? And what does God do with us? You look at them and you love them. You hold them. Tight.  You absorb the anger and pain of a little body that has no idea what life is about or what they need most. You take the force of their pain. And you pull them close. Wherever you are now: whatever you’ve done. God is holding you in the midst of the pain. You are safe. And He will not let you go.

3.Some things can’t be fast-forwarded. This is hard. Sometimes unbearable. But it will get better.There will come a day when you will want to live again.  For now,  be kind.  Give yourself space and time. There’s no deadline.  There’s nowhere you need to be.Nothing is so important that it can’t wait.  You are loved – but you’re not indispensable.  And you’re safe – even in the mess.  The Lord doesn’t want your service right now.  He can do it without you.  So let Him.

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.
Hebrews 6:19-20"

- Emma Scrivener at A New Name

 incidentally, my phone background for the last few weeks has mostly been this:

 I don't know where I am with God at the moment. I don't even know where I am with myself. But I'm clinging onto the truth that a boat doesn't always see its anchor. It doesn't feel it a lot of the time. But that doesn't mean it isn't there - or that it isn't just as firm and secure.

I'm thankful for the part of me that wholeheartedly still hopes and believes in the promise of that anchor. Even in the midst of this mess of diet coke and sugar free jelly and filling my basket with low calorie groceries that aren't quite low calorie enough; and putting them all back; in nearly crying because I can't tell if sugar snap peas or green beans are 'more allowed' and in hating myself for buying food and hating myself for not buying food. In feeling hopeless and selfish and messy. In hurting people who care about me - because they care about me. I might not see it or feel it or even be able to fathom it but the anchor is there

 I have the hope of God's promises as my soul's anchor and, thankfully, it is firm and secure regardless of where I am.