The Lorry rammed on me on the highway. Trust me, I shuddered as I braked, holding onto the steering wheel as the car was thrusted down. By God’s grace, I packed the car on the side. I had to catch a breathe, whispering the Word of the Lord to myself.
“Breath in… Breath out…It is well with the righteous.”
Pious benevolence came from the onlookers, as the lorry driver inspected the damage done. I couldn’t help rethink about what has been on my mind lately.
Seeing the unseen.
This is the war: every moment of every day, we must make the all-important choice of whether we will rely on the naked eye. Will we trust what we can see is there, or believe what God says is there?
It’s a decision we are continually confronted with. The apostle Paul put it this way: “So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever” (2 Corinthians 4:18).
Making the choice to see the invisible is not always as dramatic as the road incident.
Sometimes it’s far more low-key, and that’s when it can be the most difficult. Trials have a way of splashing cold water on our faces and rousing us from sleep.
It is much easier to slip into cruise control when the sun is out and the birds are chirping. For every person who has been destroyed by suffering, there are probably ten who have been wrecked by success. Trust me when I say this: the issue isn’t whether your life is going well or falling apart; the question is, what makes you so sure you can tell the difference?
Jesus said that in this world we will have trouble, but he instructed us to take heart, because he has overcome the world (John 16:33 NLT). It’s interesting that he said “Take heart,” because heart is also translated as courageousness, so he is saying, “Take courage.”
We generally think of courage as an emotion or attribute that you either have or don’t. Not so.
Jesus’ command is for you to take it from his hand—as much as you need. Taking something is an action. It’s a choice. Losing, on the other hand, happens on its own, when you’re not paying attention.
The truth is, your heart will get lost if you let it. If you have a heart, you must take heart.
David said the same thing in Psalm 27:13–14:
I would have lost heart, unless I had believed, that I would see the goodness of the LORD, in the land of the living. Wait on the LORD; Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; Wait, I say, on the LORD!
Belief is the antidote to losing heart. It puts the lens of faith in front of your eyes and gives you access to limitless courage. As we wait on the Lord, our hearts are strengthened, and we see things that are invisible and can then do things that are impossible.
Regardless of what’s weighing you down—whether it’s a fight you had with your wife or husband this morning, a big assignment at work that is stressing you out, or the fact that you are being bullied at school and harassed on social media—you have the authority to wait on the Lord and call on his name to receive a fresh infusion of power sufficient for the challenges at hand.
The book of Hebrews speaks of “this hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast” (Hebrews 6:19).
That’s a game changer. A boat that is anchored can be battered, but it won’t be moved. Because of Jesus, we have hope. And because of hope, even in the midst of the worst storms of this life, we have an anchor for our souls.
Hope is a powerful thing. The evangelist Billy Graham said, “What oxygen is to the lungs, hope is to our survival in the world.”
Hope is the only thing more powerful than fear. The thing about anchors is that to be effective, they must be attached to something. There is always a connection: a rope or a chain. They aren’t wireless and can’t be connected by Bluetooth.
That connection is every bit as vital as the anchor itself. It doesn’t matter how securely that big hunk of metal is wedged into the ocean floor—if you’re not tied to it, it’s not the least bit helpful. The chain matters greatly.
The wonderful thing about the anchor of the soul is that it, too, comes equipped with a mighty chain. Hope has a rope: the Holy Spirit.
Before entering God’s presence in the ascension, Jesus promised to send his Spirit to be our helper. He is our great rope that cannot be frayed, the one who has lashed our hearts to heaven.
Through the Spirit we have an everlasting guarantee, a down payment on the life that is to come. He is the proof that there is more in store. Our hope is a living hope, because Jesus lives forever.