About three hundred and fifty miles north of Toronto, on the shores of a beautiful Canadian lake, my grandparents ran a fishing camp called Beauty Lake Lodge. The closest town was 40 miles away. The lodge didn’t have a telephone, nor did it have electricity. The only electricity was from a diesel generator my grandfather ran for a couple of hours in the evening.
The fishing camp had a rustic two-story lodge and eight cabins. A grassy lawn surrounded the lodge and cabins and gently sloped down to a sandy beach. Off the beach, a wooden dock extended about twenty feet into the lake. Moored to the dock were aluminum rowboats fitted with outboard motors. Other rowboats lay lined up on the beach.
My grandparents ran Beauty Lake Lodge for over twenty years, but since they lived so far away, we didn’t get to see them very often. When we did visit, we would stay in one of the cabins. My brother and I would swim in the lake and sometimes take out a boat to go fishing. We’d get the oars and a life vest from the boathouse, jump in a boat, and row out on the lake. Usually, we’d race each other to see who could row the fastest. All the boats were aluminum except one, which was made of wood. The wooden boat was much heavier than the aluminum boats.
On one occasion, my brother, who is two years younger than me, took out the heavy, wooden rowboat. For some reason, this boat didn’t have an anchor. I jumped into an aluminum boat and off we went, rowing as fast as we could go. We headed toward an island that was about a half-mile away. The wind was blowing in our favor, and we made fast progress.
When we neared the island, we stopped rowing to rest. That’s when we noticed how hard the wind was blowing. In a short time, we drifted past the island. When we noticed our predicament, we turned the boats around and started rowing back to the camp. It was tough rowing. Unfortunately, my little brother didn’t have the strength to fight the wind. His boat drifted farther away, in the wrong direction. By the time I realized what was happening, he was already a good distance away.
“Throw the anchor over,” I yelled.
“There is no anchor,” he yelled back.
Before either one of us could do anything, my brother’s boat was blown far out on the lake. He couldn’t fight the wind so he gave up and let the wind take him away.
I fought against the wind to get back. When I got close to the shore, I saw my parents and grandparents on the beach. “The wind is blowing Rob’s boat away,” I yelled. My grandfather jumped in one of the boats, started the motor, and sped off after my brother. About twenty minutes later, he returned, my brother safely in tow.
I’ve often thought about this incident because it reminds me about the importance of having an anchor. If my brother had had an anchor, he could have used it to keep from drifting away. That’s what anchors do. Anchors keep you from drifting. They keep you safe. The Bible says, “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure (Hebrews 6:19).” This anchor of hope is the hope of salvation, which keeps us securely in the faith.
The letter to the Hebrews was written to Jewish Christians who were being pressured to abandon their faith in Jesus. Their Jewish friends and family members told them to “just be a good Jew. Give up this Jesus thing.” To help these Christians remain faithful, the writer of Hebrews warns about the danger of drifting away from Jesus. He tells them to hold on to their faith because faith in Jesus keeps us from drifting away from God. Like an anchor for our soul, our faith in Jesus keeps us from drifting back into our old ways.
In the first century, most Jewish Christians found it difficult to follow Jesus. Their friends and family were pressuring them to return to their old life. They were being pressured to compromise—to be like everyone else. They were being told to give up this Jesus thing and try their best to fit in. In an effort to counter this peer pressure, the writer of Hebrews tells them to hang on to their faith. He reminded them that Jesus has given them new life. He says, “Hang on to your new life like a man who uses an anchor to keep from drifting away.”
Although their situation is different than ours, you and I still face similar pressures. Your friends and family who don’t follow Jesus may try to persuade you to forget about Jesus and be like everyone else.
That’s when we need an anchor–an anchor to keep us from drifting away from Jesus. The hope of salvation—the hope for a new life with Jesus–keeps us firmly secure in a life of faith.
There are many ways to drift away from Jesus. Think of an athlete who is training to be successful. One of the secrets of being a successful athlete is to stay focused. When you get distracted, you lose sight of the goal. Runners are told to never look back to see how far behind their opponent is. A glance backward is enough to slow your momentum and cause you to lose the race.
Our old life is in the past. Our old life is behind us. We can’t look back. We must keep looking forward. The Bible says it like this: “One thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me (Philippians 3:13-14).”
In stormy weather, you want to use an anchor to keep you from drifting away, but you don’t use an anchor when you want to make progress. To make progress, you must keep looking forward. You can’t live in the past. God is calling you to greater things. That’s why the writer of Hebrews says: “Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith (Hebrews 12:1-2).” If you keep your eyes on Jesus and follow him, he will give you the best life possible.
What’s the takeaway of today’s story? First, in times of trouble, hang on to your faith in Jesus. Don’t let people drag you back to your old life. Hang on to your new life like a man who uses an anchor to keep from drifting away. Second, don’t look back. Don’t let the old life pull you back. Keep moving forward. If you keep your eyes on Jesus, he will help you to have the best life possible.
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