Anchor Christian Quotes

Experience had quickly taught her that she could not survive the storms without the anchor of the constraining love of Christ and what she called the "Rock-counsciousness" of the promise given her, "He goeth before.

The mind serves best when it's anchored in the Word of God. There is no danger then of becoming an intellectual without integrity...

If we are cut loose from the anchor of God's Word, we will not be free. We will be slaves of personal passions and popular trends.

God’s grace is strong enough to hold me steady through every difficulty.

Hope is the anchor of life.

I don't want to find someone I can live with, I just want to find someone that I can't live without.

In the midst of the storm, my only anchor is the Saviour.

In the midst of the disappointment, we find faith as an anchor!

Originally, the anchor symbol was not used by those on the water, but by people on land. During the early years of Christianity, Christians were under heavy persecution by the Romans. To show their religion to other practicing Christians under the watchful eye of the ruling people, they would wear anchor jewelry or even tattoo anchors on themselves. The anchor was seen as a symbol of strength as anchors hold down ships even in the stormiest of weather. It was also a popular symbol because of its close resemblance to the cross. Anchors were also used to mark safe houses for those seeking refuge from persecution.   MyNameNecklace.com

Faith is your anchor and sustainer in the new season. Faith that the one who called us is faithful. Faith helps you see in the dark. And when you feel like you can't see, Faith steadies your heart to trust what you know. What is true.

Hope doesn’t float. Hope is an anchor forged from the nails that pierced Him and the iron-will that held Him to the cross, made Him stay the course, and drove Him to live out His extreme devotion to His Father’s will. His back became the anvil on which God forged our redemption. Jesus is our only hope.

As Os Guinness explains, Christianity is not true because it works (pragmatism); it is not true because it feels right (subjectivism); it is not true because it is “my truth” (relativism). It is true because it is anchored in the person of Christ. Furthermore, truth is anything that corresponds to reality.

Long before the Aryan Judeo-Christian plagiarization of the Semite's Scripture took place, the ancient Egyptian concept of the Trinity was a calendrical system of theology. The Aryan Osirian Jew annexed the ancient Egyptian calendar through Osiris' Scepter, while the Aryan Atenian Christian did so through Horus' Scepter. Both Scepters, however, symbolize that very same calendrical anchor when the cow-god YHWH annually rested in ancient Egypt; an event which the Jew and the Christian projected weekly and commemorated on Scepterday and Sonday, consecutively. The Jew has temporally reduced the symbol of the Scepter to the Sabbath, whereas the Christian has spatially reduced it to the Sun; a temporospatial ancient Egyptian unholiness of plagiarizing Semitic Scripture and its seven-days week calendar. That Judeo-Christian Trinity -which the former is trying so hard to conceal while the latter shies not from proclaiming- consists of the three ancient Egyptian calendrical elements: Sky, Moon and Sun. These elements were Hathor, Osiris and Horus who later on became to be identified as YHWH, the departed King coming as the Holy Spirit and the Son.

The danger of our time is that Christianity won; its form of morality (slave: weakness, humility, compassion; pride is a vice) was so successful that people believe it even without believing in its fundamental anchor: God. Atheism was the final victory of Christianity, because no longer did Christianity need God for itself to prevail as a moral ideology.

Hope is alive when u know your anchor

Your mustard seed is enough.

Both Christ and Buddha saw the passage as one of suffering, and basically found identical ways out. What they discovered and revealed to us was that each of us has within himself or herself a “stillpoint” – comparable, perhaps to the eye of a cyclone, a spot or center of calm, imperturbability, and non-movement. Buddha articulated this central eye in negative terms as “emptiness” or “void”, a refuge from the swirling cyclone of endless suffering. Christ articulated the eye in more positive terms as the “Kingdom of God” or the “Spirit within”, a place of refuge and salvation from a suffering self. For both of them, the easy out was first to find that stillpoint and then, by attaching ourselves to it, by becoming one with it, to find a stabilizing, balanced anchor in our lives. After that, the cyclone is gradually drawn into the eye, and the suffering self comes to an end. And when there is no longer a cyclone, there is also no longer an eye.

This idea (Taqwa)can be effectively conveyed by the term "conscience," if the object of conscience transcends it. This is why it is proper to say that "conscience" is truly as central to Islam as love is to Christianity when one speaks of the human response to the ultimate reality—which, therefore, is conceived in Islam as merciful justice rather than fatherhood. Taqwā, then, in the context of our argument, means to be squarely anchored within the moral tensions, the "limits of God," and not to "transgress" or violate the balance of those tensions or limits. Human conduct then becomes endowed with that quality which renders it "service to God [‘ibāda].

Girls aside, the other thing I found in the last few years of being at school, was a quiet, but strong Christian faith – and this touched me profoundly, setting up a relationship or faith that has followed me ever since. I am so grateful for this. It has provided me with a real anchor to my life and has been the secret strength to so many great adventures since. But it came to me very simply one day at school, aged only sixteen. As a young kid, I had always found that a faith in God was so natural. It was a simple comfort to me: unquestioning and personal. But once I went to school and was forced to sit through somewhere in the region of nine hundred dry, Latin-liturgical, chapel services, listening to stereotypical churchy people droning on, I just thought that I had got the whole faith deal wrong. Maybe God wasn’t intimate and personal but was much more like chapel was … tedious, judgemental, boring and irrelevant. The irony was that if chapel was all of those things, a real faith is the opposite. But somehow, and without much thought, I had thrown the beautiful out with the boring. If church stinks, then faith must do, too. The precious, natural, instinctive faith I had known when I was younger was tossed out with this newly found delusion that because I was growing up, it was time to ‘believe’ like a grown-up. I mean, what does a child know about faith? It took a low point at school, when my godfather, Stephen, died, to shake me into searching a bit harder to re-find this faith I had once known. Life is like that. Sometimes it takes a jolt to make us sit and remember who and what we are really about. Stephen had been my father’s best friend in the world. And he was like a second father to me. He came on all our family holidays, and spent almost every weekend down with us in the Isle of Wight in the summer, sailing with Dad and me. He died very suddenly and without warning, of a heart attack in Johannesburg. I was devastated. I remember sitting up a tree one night at school on my own, and praying the simplest, most heartfelt prayer of my life. ‘Please, God, comfort me.’ Blow me down … He did. My journey ever since has been trying to make sure I don’t let life or vicars or church over-complicate that simple faith I had found. And the more of the Christian faith I discover, the more I realize that, at heart, it is simple. (What a relief it has been in later life to find that there are some great church communities out there, with honest, loving friendships that help me with all of this stuff.) To me, my Christian faith is all about being held, comforted, forgiven, strengthened and loved – yet somehow that message gets lost on most of us, and we tend only to remember the religious nutters or the God of endless school assemblies. This is no one’s fault, it is just life. Our job is to stay open and gentle, so we can hear the knocking on the door of our heart when it comes. The irony is that I never meet anyone who doesn’t want to be loved or held or forgiven. Yet I meet a lot of folk who hate religion. And I so sympathize. But so did Jesus. In fact, He didn’t just sympathize, He went much further. It seems more like this Jesus came to destroy religion and to bring life. This really is the heart of what I found as a young teenager: Christ comes to make us free, to bring us life in all its fullness. He is there to forgive us where we have messed up (and who hasn’t), and to be the backbone in our being. Faith in Christ has been the great empowering presence in my life, helping me walk strong when so often I feel so weak. It is no wonder I felt I had stumbled on something remarkable that night up that tree. I had found a calling for my life.

The next generation is caught between two possible destinies—one moored by the power and depth of the Jesus-centered gospel and one anchored to a cheap, Americanized version of the historic faith that will snap at the slightest puff of wind. Without a clear path to pursue the true gospel, millions of young Christians will look back on their twentysomething years as a series of lost opportunities for Christ.

If I hope in anything or anyone less than One who has power over suffering and, ultimately, death, I am doomed to final disappointment. Suffering will drive me to hopelessness. What character I have will disintegrate. It is the hope of Christ that makes it possible for us to persevere in times of tribulation and distress. We have an anchor for our souls that rests in the One who has gone before us and conquered.

the myth of what we might term, simply, freedom—the myth that the less encumbered and entangled I am, or the less accountable and anchored I am to a particular relationship, the better able I am to find my truest self and secure real happiness. This myth is so ingrained in our imaginations, I suspect, that it may undergird and nurture all the other myths Myers mentions. And it’s not hard to see how it strikes at the root of friendship. If your deepest fulfillment is found in personal autonomy, then friendship—or at least the close kind I want to recommend in these pages—is more of a liability than an asset.

Since most houses today have running water, the ease with which most Americans can give water to a guest obscures the point that everyone in the biblical culture understood: “cold water” came only from the town well or cistern because water in jars at home warmed up very quickly in the heat. Giving a cup of cold water meant inconveniencing yourself and walking to the town well carrying a container, perhaps waiting in line to draw the water, lifting the water up out of the ground, and then carrying the water back to the house—all so someone could quench his thirst. The fact that Christ connects giving cold water with rewards to be received in the future is a powerful testimony to the value of even the most seemingly mundane good works in the eyes of God.

But I believe that the Industrial Revolution, including developments leading to this revolution, barely capture what was unique about Western culture. While other cultures were unique in their own customs, languages, beliefs, and historical experiences, the West was uniquely exceptional in exhibiting in a continuous way the greatest degree of creativity, novelty, and expansionary dynamics. I trace the uniqueness of the West back to the aristocratic warlike culture of Indo-European speakers as early as the 4th millennium BC. Their aristocratic libertarian culture was already unique and quite innovative in initiating the most mobile way of life in prehistoric times, starting with the domestication and riding of horses and the invention of chariot warfare. So were the ancient Greeks in their discovery of logos and its link with the order of the world, dialectical reason, the invention of prose, tragedy, citizen politics, and face-to-face infantry battle. The Roman creation of a secular system of republican governance anchored on autonomous principles of judicial reasoning was in and of itself unique. The incessant wars and conquests of the Roman legions, together with their many military innovations and engineering skills, were one of the most vital illustrations of spatial expansionism in history. The fusion of Christianity and the Greco-Roman intellectual and administrative heritage, coupled with the cultivation of Catholicism (the first rational theology in history), was a unique phenomenon. The medieval invention of universities — in which a secular education could flourish and even articles of faith were open to criticism and rational analysis, in an effort to arrive at the truth — was exceptional. The list of epoch-making transformation in Europe is endless: the Renaissance, the Age of Discovery, the Scientific Revolution(s), the Military Revolution(s), the Cartographic Revolution, the Spanish Golden Age, the Printing Revolution, the Enlightenment, the Romantic Era, the German Philosophical Revolutions from Kant to Hegel to Nietzsche to Heidegger.

Father Martin said that those who think stability is meant to hold you back, and to stifle personal and spiritual growth, are missing the hidden value in the commitment to stability. It anchors you and gives you the freedom that comes from not being subject to the wind, the waves, and the currents of daily life. It creates the ordered conditions in which the soul’s internal pilgrimage toward holiness becomes possible. Or as Father Martin put it, “Stability give us the time and the structure to go deep into who we are as sons of God.

The next Christians must beware that operating in the center of the world requires a deep anchoring in Christ, a grounding that’s achieved only through means unbecoming to most. Otherwise, it hardly ever works.

The Jew refers to Shavuot as Atzeret (i.e. holding back, refraining) because after the Counting of the Omer, the festival of Passover gets linked to that of the Holdover (i.e. Pentecost). However, Pentecost in Roman Christianity signals the coming of the Holy Spirit 40 days after Easter. To the Jew, the Counting of the Omer, which starts the day after Passover, symbolizes the Exodus and the freedom from 49 gates of his impurities and falling -in the same incarnation- on the 50th gate is irreversible where soul correction becomes impossible. What is astonishing about all this is that all of these details are graphically expressed -according to the ancient Egyptian decanic Calendar- on the circular zodiac of Dendera where the symbol of the Pig anchors the 50th gate which the Pharaonic spirit of the Jew is trying to evade at all costs.

Empirical logic achieved a signal triumph in the Old Testament, where survivals from the early proto-logical stage are very few and far between. With it man reached a point where his best judgments about his relation to God, his fellow men and the world, were in most respects not appreciably inferior to ours. In fundamental ethical and spiritual matters we have not progressed at all beyond the empirico-logical world of the Old Testament or the unrivalled fusion of proto-logical intuition, 64 [see Coomaraswamy, Review of Religion, 1942, p. 138, paragraph 3] empirico-logical wisdom and logical deduction which we find in the New Testament. In fact a very large section of modern religion, literature and art actually represents a pronounced retrogression when compared with the Old Testament. For example, astrology, spiritism and kindred divagations, which have become religion to tens of millions of Europeans and Americans, are only the outgrowth of proto-logical interpretation of nature, fed by empirico-logical data and covered with a spurious shell of Aristotelian logic and scientific induction. Plastic and graphic art has swung violently away from logical perspective and perceptual accuracy, and has plunged into primordial depths of conceptual drawing and intuitive imagery. While it cannot be denied that this swing from classical art to conceptual and impressionistic art has yielded some valuable results, it is also true that it represents a very extreme retrogression into the proto-logical past. Much of the poetry, drama and fiction which has been written during the past half-century is also a reversion from classical and logical standards of morality and beauty into primitive savagery or pathological abnormality. Some of it has reached such paralogical levels of sophistication that it has lost all power to furnish any standards at all to a generation which has deliberately tried to abandon its entire heritage from the past. All systematic attempts to discredit inherited sexual morality, to substitute dream-states for reflection, and to replace logical writing by jargon, are retreats into the jungle from which man emerged through long and painful millennia of disillusionment. With the same brains and affective reactions as those which our ancestors possessed two thousand years ago, increasing sophistication has not been able to teach us any sounder fundamental principles of life than were known at that time. . . . Unless we can continue along the pathway of personal morality and spiritual growth which was marked out for civilized man by the founders of the Judaeo-Christian tradition, more than two thousand years ago, our superior skill in modifying and even in transforming the material world about us can lead only to repeated disasters, each more terrible than its predecessor. (Archaeology and the Religion of Israel, 5th Ed. New York: Doubleday Anchor, 31-33.)

The Old Testament predicted the coming of the Messiah. But the idea that He would actually live in His redeemed church, made up mostly of Gentiles, was not revealed. The New Testament is clear that Christ, by the Holy Spirit, takes up permanent residence in all believers (cf. Rom. 8:9; 1 Cor. 6:19, 20; Eph. 2:22). The revelation of the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles awaited the New Testament (Eph. 3:3-6). Believers, both Jew and Gentile, now possess the surpassing riches of the indwelling Christ (John 14:23; Rom. 8:9-10; Gal. 2:20; Eph. 1:7, 17-18; 3:8-10, 16-19; Phil. 4:19). The church is described as “the temple of the living God; just as God said, ‘I will dwell in them and walk among them; and I will be their God, and they shall be My people’” (2 Cor. 6:16). That Christ indwells all believers is the source for their hope of glory and is the subject or theme of the gospel ministry. What makes the gospel attractive is not just that it promises present joy and help, but that it promises eternal honor, blessing, and glory. When Christ comes to live in a believer, His presence is the anchor of the promise of heaven—the guarantee of future bliss eternally (cf. 2 Cor. 5:1-5; Eph. 1:13-14). In the reality that Christ is living in the Christian is the experience of new life and hope of eternal glory.

But it's our faith in the hard times that keeps us anchored in the hope that God will restore order. It's a choice, Brynn. Choose fear or choose faith, but only one choice will bring peace.

Prayer bridges the gap of sin, space, and time engulfing us on all sides, separating us from the closeness we once shared with our Creator. If the church is the ship, the Holy Spirit the wind in its sails and Christ the anchor, then prayer is the rudder that guides the Christian’s life in the stormy sea that is this world. Prayer is the hand we extend to help someone that has fallen, the blessing we speak to comfort someone who grieves, the joy we express when a child does well, and the mourning we do when a loved one passes away. Prayer is the sword that strikes at our enemies, the shield that defends against their attacks and the victory song we sing when the adversary has been defeated.

Each document and each utterance within that document, like Jesus Christ and each of his utterances, is anchored in a particular historical situation — this particularity marks all the Christian revelation — and to discern within these particularities truths from God

Each document and each utterance within that document, like Jesus Christ and each of his utterances, is anchored in a particular historical situation — this particularity marks all the Christian revelation — and to discern within these particularities truths from God for universal application is the interpreter's major task.

DECEMBER 22 Parallel Universes Doubt, for me, tends to come in an overwhelming package, all at once. I don’t worry much about nuances of particular doctrines, but every so often I catch myself wondering about the whole grand scheme of faith. I stand in the futuristic airport in Denver, for example, watching important-looking people in business suits, briefcases clutched to their sides like weapons, pause at an espresso bar before scurrying off to another concourse. Do any of them ever think about God? I wonder. Christians share an odd belief in parallel universes. One universe consists of glass and steel and wool clothes and leather briefcases and the smell of freshly ground coffee. The other consists of angels and sinister spiritual forces and somewhere out there places called Heaven and Hell. We palpably inhabit the material world; it takes faith to consider oneself a citizen of the other, invisible world. Occasionally the two worlds merge for me, and these rare moments are anchors for my faith. The time I snorkeled on a coral reef and suddenly the flashes of color and abstract design flitting around me became a window to a Creator who exults in life and beauty. The time my wife forgave me for something that did not merit forgiveness—that too became a window, allowing a startling glimpse of divine grace. I have these moments, but soon toxic fumes from the material world seep in. Sex appeal! Power! Money! Military might! These are what matter most in life, I’m told, not the simpering platitudes of Jesus’ teachings in the Sermon on the Mount. For me, living in a fallen world, doubt seems more like forgetfulness than disbelief. I, a citizen of the visible world, know well the struggle involved in clinging to belief in another, invisible world. Christmas turns the tables and hints at the struggle involved when the Lord of both worlds descends to live by the rules of the one. In Bethlehem, the two worlds came together, realigned; what Jesus went on to accomplish on planet Earth made it possible for God someday to resolve all disharmonies in both worlds. No wonder a choir of angels broke out in spontaneous song, disturbing not only a few shepherds but the entire universe. Finding God in Unexpected Places (34 – 35)

His intention was, and always has been, intimacy.

When we are planted in His truth, we sow seeds of clarity and peace.

If I hope in anything or anyone less than One who has power over suffering and, ultimately, death, I am doomed to final disappointment. Suffering will drive me to hopelessness. What character I have will disintegrate. It is the hope of Christ that makes it possible for us to persevere in times of tribulation and distress. We have an anchor for our souls that rests in the One who has gone before us and conquered.

Without mothers, as opposed to “birthing individuals,” you do not have a civilization. Without mothers nurturing their children, no families, no households can exist. Women, not men, were given wombs to carry children. Women, not men, were given breasts to feed children. Women were designed to be the anchor of their households and the bringers and nurturers of life. One must do violence to the glorious image of God that they bear in order to make them wombless, breastless, pathetic and miserable imitations of men. Until we are willing to admit that feminism, even (especially!) the feminism accepted by conservatives, is a demon goddess responsible for our enslavement, we will remain under the shade of the oaken shrines of Trashworld.

In times of adversity, our only anchor is hope.

When a Dutch ship with three Jewish merchants on board dropped anchor in August 1645 at a part of the Brazilian coast that, unbeknown to them, had been captured by Portuguese rebels, two of the Jews—because they were conversos born as Christians—were arrested and executed as apostates.28

The anchor of my life is the grace of God.

The strongest anchor is hope.

If you’re a Christian, here’s the good news: who you really are has nothing to do with you—how much you can accomplish, who you can become, your behavior, your strengths, your weaknesses, your sordid past, your family background, your education, your looks, and so on. Your identity is firmly anchored in Christ’s accomplishment, not yours; His strength, not yours; His performance, not yours; His victory, not yours.

Faith gives us strength. Grace gives us power. Hope gives us anchor.

May you find hope as anchor.

But, someone will say, does God not know, even without being reminded, both in what respect we are troubled and what is expedient for us, so that it may seem in a sense superfluous that he should be stirred up by our prayers-as if he were drowsily blinking or even sleeping until he is aroused by our voice? But they who thus reason do not observe to what end the Lord instructed his people to pray, for he ordained it not so much for his own sake as for ours. Now he wills-as is right-that his due be rendered to him, in the recognition that everything men desire and account conducive to their own profit comes from him, and in the attestation of this by prayers. But the profit of this sacrifice also, by which he is worshiped, returns to us. Accordingly, the holy fathers, the more confidently they extolled God's benefits among themselves and others, were the more keenly aroused to pray ... Still it is very important for us to call upon him: First, that our hearts may be fired with a zealous and burning desire ever to seek, love, and serve him, while we become accustomed in every need to flee to him as to a sacred anchor. Secondly, that there may enter our hearts no desire and no wish at all of which we should be ashamed to make him a witness, while we learn to set all our wishes before his eyes, and even to pour out our whole hearts. Thirdly, that we be prepared to receive his benefits with true gratitude of heart and thanksgiving, benefits that our prayer reminds us come from his hand. (Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, trans. Ford Lewis Battles, ed. John T. McNeill [Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1960], Book 3, chapter 20, section 3.)

I hold steadfast to hope.

If brute force wouldn't suffice, however, there was always the famous Viking cunning. The fleet was put to anchor and under a flag of truce some Vikings approached the gate. Their leader, they claimed, was dying and wished to be baptized as a Christian. As proof, they had brought along the ailing Hastein on a litter, groaning and sweating.  The request presented a moral dilemma for the Italians. As Christians they could hardly turn away a dying penitent, but they didn't trust the Vikings and expected a trick. The local count, in consultation with the bishop, warily decided to admit Hastein, but made sure that he was heavily guarded. A detachment of soldiers was sent to collect Hastein and a small retinue while the rest of the Vikings waited outside.  Despite the misgivings, the people of Luna flocked to see the curiosity of a dreaded barbarian peacefully inside their city. The Vikings were on their best behavior as they were escorted to the cathedral, remaining silent and respectful. Throughout the service, which probably lasted a few hours, Hastein was a picture of reverence and weakness, a dying man who had finally seen the light. The bishop performed the baptism, and the count stood in as godfather, christening Hastein with a new name. When the rite had concluded, the Vikings respectfully picked up the litter and carried their stricken leader back to the ships.  That night, a Viking messenger reappeared at the gates, and after thanking the count for allowing the baptism, sadly informed him that Hastein had died. Before he expired, however, he had asked to be given a funeral mass and to be buried in the holy ground of the cathedral cemetery.  The next day a solemn procession of fifty Vikings, each dressed in long robes of mourning, entered the city carrying Hastein's corpse on a bier. Virtually all the inhabitants of the city had turned out to witness the event, joining the cavalcade all the way to the cathedral. The bishop, surrounded by a crowd of monks and priests bearing candles, blessed the coffin with holy water, and led the entire procession inside.  As the bishop launched into the funerary Mass, reminding all good Christians to look forward to the day of resurrection, the coffin lid was abruptly thrown to the ground and a very much alive Hastein leapt out. As he cut down the bishop, his men threw off their cloaks and drew their weapons. A few ran to bar the doors, the rest set about slaughtering the congregation.  At the same time – perhaps alerted by the tolling bell – Bjorn Ironside led the remaining Vikings into the city and they fanned out, looking for treasure. The plundering lasted for the entire day. Portable goods were loaded onto the ships, the younger citizens were spared to be sold as slaves, and the rest were killed. Finally, when night began to fall, Hastein called off the attack. Since nothing more could fit on their ships, they set fire to the city and sailed away.97 For the next two years, the Norsemen criss-crossed the Mediterranean, raiding both the African and European coasts. There are even rumors that they tried to sack Alexandria in Egypt, but were apparently unable to take it by force or stealth.

Faith gives strength to my bones. Grace gives power to my spirit. Hopes give anchor to my soul.

Hope is an anchor.

Without an anchor, we can be drifted to any shore.

If so be ye have tasted that the Lord is gracious." 1 Peter 2:3 If:--then, this is not a matter to be taken for granted concerning every one of the human race. "If:"--then there is a possibility and a probability that some may not have tasted that the Lord is gracious. "If:"--then this is not a general but a special mercy; and it is needful to enquire whether we know the grace of God by inward experience. There is no spiritual favour which may not be a matter for heart-searching. But while this should be a matter of earnest and prayerful inquiry, no one ought to be content whilst there is any such thing as an "if" about his having tasted that the Lord is gracious. A jealous and holy distrust of self may give rise to the question even in the believer's heart, but the continuance of such a doubt would be an evil indeed. We must not rest without a desperate struggle to clasp the Saviour in the arms of faith, and say, "I know whom I have believed, and I am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him." Do not rest, O believer, till thou hast a full assurance of thine interest in Jesus. Let nothing satisfy thee till, by the infallible witness of the Holy Spirit bearing witness with thy spirit, thou art certified that thou art a child of God. Oh, trifle not here; let no "perhaps" and "peradventure" and "if" and "maybe" satisfy thy soul. Build on eternal verities, and verily build upon them. Get the sure mercies of David, and surely get them. Let thine anchor be cast into that which is within the veil, and see to it that thy soul be linked to the anchor by a cable that will not break. Advance beyond these dreary "ifs;" abide no more in the wilderness of doubts and fears; cross the Jordan of distrust, and enter the Canaan of peace, where the Canaanite still lingers, but where the land ceaseth not to flow with milk and honey.

God is our strongest anchor.

Again, it is not simply the sheer number of executions or the population of death row that I underline here as problematic. As I will elaborate in this section, the mere presence of the death penalty—however few or many the number of executed may be in a given year—subverts popular sovereignty by anchoring the state’s claimed and so-called “right to kill.” If the symbol of “the executed God” generates opposition to the death penalty, as I hope to show by the end of this book, it is not simply because the gospel propounds an ethic of forgiveness of wrongdoers, setting a preference for mercy over and against lethal punishment (the usual Christian logic for abolishing the death penalty). The death penalty is opposed here more because the way of the cross is an adversarial practice of living that contests unjust modes of state rule; “unjust” because state execution violates popular sovereignty, chilling popular voice and expression, reinforcing the state’s unjust rule by terror.

Stability is not innate or effortless for most of us female-type humans. Only in Christ is “no variableness, neither shadow of turning.” He is the solid, immutable Rock of Ages, and He can keep you stable. When your earth quakes, anchor your thoughts to His unchanging promises. When storms roll in, hide in His shadow. When you’re too tired to handle the demands of the day, let Him be the Rock of your strength. When your heart is unsatisfied, let the sweet water flowing from the Rock quench your thirst. Whenever any scary or upsetting thing happens, just run straight to the Rock.

I went to a middle-of-the-road Christian college where the religion professors were often liberal. I saw many of my classmates have their faith deconstructed and never built up again in a healthy way. When people ask me why I didn’t go down the same path, the best answer I have—besides noting the grace of God—is that I trusted my parents and my upbringing more than my professors. I had doubts as a college student. There were new questions I didn’t know how to answer. But what kept me anchored was confidence in what I had learned as a child and in those from whom I had learned it.

The inevitable result of borrowed faith is lost faith. People born into a family anchored in Christendom tend to assume they’re right with God, regardless of whether they personally turn from sin and trust in Jesus.

Few have lived as stressful and frenetic a life as Hudson Taylor, founder of China Inland Mission. But Taylor lived in God’s rest, as his son beautifully attests: Day and night this was his secret, “just to roll the burden on the Lord.” Frequently those who were wakeful in the little house at Chinkiang might hear, at two or three in the morning, the soft refrain of Mr. Taylor’s favorite hymn [“Jesus, I am resting, resting in the joy of what Thou art”]. He had learned that for him, only one life was possible — just that blessed life of resting and rejoicing in the Lord under all circumstances, while He dealt with the difficulties, inward and outward, great and small.6 Fellow-Christians, there is a rest for you. It is not beyond your capacity. You can have it if you wish.

Again, the emphasis of the language warns against regression, for it literally reads, “You have become having need of milk, not solid food.”4 They had begun to eat solid food early on but were now back on the bottle. The truth is, there is simply no such thing as a static Christian. We either move forward or fall back. We are either climbing or falling. We are either winning or losing. Static, status quo Christianity is a delusion!

We call these self-evident truths, such as the law of fair play, axioms. An axiom is a premise or starting point that is taken for granted before acquiring any additional knowledge. Axioms are self-evident beliefs that anchor the rest our beliefs.

We are all planted in God's vineyard and our lives are filled with potentials and purpose and we have all been given the hopes to anchor our lives even in the most disappointed times. So God is waiting to see what you and I will make out of the raw materials that He has given to us. He is waiting to see what we will make out of the discouragement and disappointment. I believe that in those deepest places of disappointment that the greatest grace will manifest.

15-2 See, your faith anchors you in Christ. That's intellectual. You believe it. You accept it. You say that it's right. You recognize it to be the truth, and you're a Christian. And you've got Everlasting Life by believing it. You've entered to God. You're on the campgrounds. Manna's falling, and you're eating it. And did you notice: the strange thing, there was a mixed multitude eating the same manna? People who are sinners, who does not accept the Lord Jesus can still enjoy the--seeing the moving of the miracle of God, healing the sick; can rejoice in people doing right; can open their hearts and rejoice in a sermon that's preached under the anointing. And that's the same type of manna that the Christian is eating. You see it? ( See "Why are people so tossed about ?" Preached on Sunday, 1st January 1956 at the Branham Tabernacle in Jeffersonville, Indiana, U.S.A. - Paragraph 15:2 )

Walker had traveled to London on a mission to promote Wisconsin for trade purposes, and an interviewer had asked him the tiresome and irrelevant question whether he believes in evolution. Walker refused to answer the question. “That’s a question politicians shouldn’t be involved in one way or another,” he said. “I am going to leave that up to you. I’m here to talk about trade, not to pontificate about evolution.” Asking a Scott Walker whether he believes in evolution when only 19 percent of the American populace believes it to be the only explanation for why we are here is a device for measuring his membership in the smart set. After all, Walker isn’t the only prominent American without a college degree. Take NBC News, for example. Its outgoing serial fabulist anchor Brian Williams never graduated from college, and neither did Williams’ replacement Lester Holt. But both Williams and Holt would dutifully parrot the “pro-science” viewpoint that yes, yes, evolution explains the origins of mankind. It’s only those knuckle-dragging white Christian rednecks from flyover territory who believe otherwise. And since Walker lacks an Ivy League pedigree or in fact even a degree at all, if he can be engaged to spout bible-beating hokum on foreign shores that surely would be the end of him.

Another sign of our effectual calling is diligence in our ordinary calling. Some boast of their high calling, but they lie idly at anchor. Religion does not seal warrants to idleness. Christians must not be slothful. Idleness is the devil’s bath; a slothful person becomes a prey to every temptation. Grace, while it cures the heart, does not make the hand lame. He who is called of God, as he works for heaven, so he works in his trade.

The children of Israel were very faint of heart, they were cowards. They no sooner saw the Egyptians than they began to cry out. And when they viewed the Red Sea in front of them, they complained against their deliverer. Their biggest enemy was themselves. A faint heart is the worst enemy a Christian can have. He never needs to be afraid of the storm while he keeps his faith steady and fixes his anchor deep in the rock. But when the hand of faith is trembling, or the eye of faith is weak, it will go hard with us.

Reliance on ourselves is no option in light of the cross. However fantastically marvelous we may think we are, the cross is God’s verdict on us as sinners. It annihilates even the possibility of finally placing our trust in ourselves. Meaning we can know a far greater assurance, anchoring it in firm ground outside ourselves, in Christ. Christians are people who have given up all claims to both our badness and our goodness—and instead gotten him. 

Many professed Christians have conformed to the world, embracing idolatrous lifestyles that neglect the vulnerable and ignore the biblical mandate to care for the least of these. As the end days approach, many will succumb to deceiving spirits, demonic doctrines, and hypocrisy, leading to a great apostasy. But amidst the chaos and persecution, afflictions and hardships, we must stand firm in our faith, refusing to abandon our trust in Christ. For it is in the darkest moments that our allegiance to Him is tested and proven. Let us hold fast to the anchor of our hope, Jesus Christ, and persevere in His truth, even when all else fails.

Abraham Lincoln would ultimately anchor his arguments against slavery on the truth that all men are created equal, that no man has the right to enslave another—a moral truth unique to Christianity, contradicting the claims of every pagan empire across the dreary ages of the world. Just as slavery had no place in a republic of self-governing citizens, neither did unfettered liberty, or what the Founders would have called license. Freedom meant being free to choose the good, and it came with responsibilities and unchosen obligations. The “pursuit of happiness” was not some libertarian creed to let each man define what was true and good, but a recognition that happiness and moral virtue were closely intertwined and that it was impossible to secure one without the other.

Our children are the future of our family, our bloodline. And the only hope we can offer them to survive the evil days to come is to introduce Jesus. The hope of a Christian is anchored only in Jesus Christ.

Lead me to the promised land. Guide my feet, take my hand. Pick me up if I should fall. Give me peace, no fear at all. Lift me high above the tide. Keep me far from silly pride. Anchor me in faith and grace. Give me strength to run this race. Wash my heart and make it clean. Walk me through the pastures green. Calm the storms that come my way. Answer prayers when them I pray. Lord, I love You. Always will. Words can't say just how I feel. So I'll end with one more line. Forever, Lord, I am Thine.

My dad, when he was alive, told me I needed to anchor my trust in God, but that's a lot easier to do when everything is going right.

The first of these practices, humility, recognizes that in a world of deep differences about fundamental issues, Christians and non-Christians alike are not always able to prove why they are right and others are wrong. Christians are able to exercise humility in public life because we recognize the limits of human reason, including our own, and because we know we have been saved by faith, not by our moral actions and goodness. That confident faith anchors our relationship with God, but it does not supply unwavering certainty in all matters.

The name of Pontius Pilate is a historical anchor. It prevents us from turning the Christian faith into a set of general truths about the world. It reminds us that the gospel is not an idea but a fact.

Rather, these early believers favored devices like doves, anchors, or fish, which presumably alluded to the cross without actually depicting it. For example, in an introduction to living as a Christian, Clement of Alexandria enumerated the figures that believers might appropriately inscribe on their signet rings. While he approved of doves, fish, ships, lyres, and anchors, his instructions specifically omitted a cross.72

The road of sin always ends in despair instead of delight and in anger in place of awe, because you and I make tremendous children, but terrible compasses! God alone is our anchor. It is only when His Name, His Word, His Promise, and His Presence are elevated as our treasure that we will ever experience hope. The system of sin is built to get us to shift our gaze and to lose our days playing the game of shame, or entitlement, or both. And our enemy doesn’t care which way we minimize the Cross. He will gladly take us focusing on the mirror to bury ourselves in shame and regret, or to spend our lives comparing to and blaming everyone else. As long as we remain on the throne of our lives, it doesn’t matter which way we flip the coin.

Through impressive growth from the late nineteenth through the mid-twentieth centuries, evangelical Christianity, although anchored in the South, became the dominant, most dynamic expression of American Christianity. Leading church historian Charles Marsden estimates that in the late nineteenth century, over half of the general population and more than eight in ten Protestants were evangelical. When southern Methodists rejoined their northern brethren in denominational reunification in the late 1930s, they brought their Lost Cause theology with them into what was at the time the largest Protestant denomination. By the second half of the twentieth century, Southern Baptist had become the largest single denomination in the country, claiming more than sixteen million followers at their apex. And beginning in the late 1970s, white Catholics received a powerful infusion of this theology through their involvement with the Christian right movement, which fortified their own existing streams of colonialist theology. As I show in chapter 5, even though white evangelical Protestants have begun to shrink as a proportion of the population in the last decade, the diffusion of their theology into white Christianity generally has meant that their particular cultural worldview, built to defend their peculiar institution, holds influence far beyond their ranks today.

Now in this sense also, I take it, Peter affirms that believers have been begotten again unto a living hope. In all probability the representation, while applicable to all believers, was influenced to some extent by the apostle’s memory of his own experience. There had been a moment in his previous life when all at once, in the twinkling of an eye as it were, he had been translated from a world of despair into a world of hope. It was when the fact of the resurrection of Christ flashed upon him. Under the two-fold bitterness of his denial of the Lord and of the tragedy of the cross, utter darkness had settled down upon his soul. Everything he expected from the future in connection with Jesus had been completely blotted out. Perhaps he had even been in danger of losing the old hope which as a pious Israelite he cherished before he knew the Lord. And then suddenly, the whole aspect of things had been changed. The risen Christ appeared to him and by his appearance wrought the resurrection of everything that had gone down with him into the grave. No, there was far more here for Peter than a mere resurrection of what he had hoped in before. It was the birth of something new that now, for the first time, disclosed itself to his perception. His hope was not given back to him in its old form. It was regenerated in the act of restoration. Previously it had been dim, undefined, subject to fluctuations; sometimes eager and enthusiastic, sometimes cast down and languishing; in many respects earthly, carnal and incompletely spiritualized. Apart from all of these defects, his previous hope had been a bare one, which could only sustain itself by projection into the future, but which lacked that vital support and nourishment in a present substantial reality without which no religious hope can permanently subsist. Through the resurrection of Christ, all these faults were corrected; all these deficiencies supplied. For Peter looked upon the risen Christ as the beginning, the firstfruits of that new world of God in which the believer’s hope is anchored. Jesus did not rise as he had been before, but transformed, glorified, eternalized, the possessor and author of a transcendent heavenly life at one and the same time, the revealer, the sample and the pledge of the future realization of the true kingdom of God. No prolonged course of training could have been more effective for purifying and spiritualizing the apostle’s hope than this single, instantaneous experience; this bursting upon him of a new form of eternal life, concrete and yet all-comprehensive in its prophetic significance. Well might the apostle say that he himself had been begotten again unto a new hope through the resurrection of Christ from the dead. And, of course, what was true of him was even more emphatically true of the readers of his epistle, who, if they were believers from the Gentiles, before their conversion had lived entirely without hope and without God in the world.

Frederick Douglass, the Christian abolitionist, orator, and writer, understood this quite well. In a lecture in Rochester, New York, he said, “I would unite with anybody to do right and with nobody to do wrong.”17 That quote may seem trite until you understand the context in which Douglass said it. He was explaining that he would partner with the American Anti-Slavery Society to abolish slavery, but he would not partner in their effort to abolish the American government as a whole. They believed the US Constitution was a slaveholding document and that they needed to abolish the Union itself for the sake of emancipation. Douglass disagreed. He understood the flaws in the US Constitution and the blind spots of the founders, but he believed the Constitution opened the door and provided the apparatus to abolish slavery. He said, “To dissolve the Union, as a means to abolish slavery, is about as wise as it would be to burn up this city in order to get the thieves out of it.”18 No one could credibly claim that Douglass didn’t understand the issue or wasn’t taking it seriously enough. He had himself been a slave, was separated from his family, and was physically beaten in this demonic institution of slavery, yet Douglass refused to surrender his critical thinking just to appease his partners. This took an incredible amount of fortitude and vision. Remember Douglass the next time your political partners demand that you go along to get along. This man of faith understood that the means of achieving emancipation were not to be overlooked—and history proved him right. Efforts go wrong when people who know better become yes men or women. We hurt the cause most when we fail to be its moral anchor and moral compass.

The ship which lies at anchor may sometimes be a little shaken—but never sinks; flesh and blood may have its fears and disquiets—but grace keeps them afloat. A Christian, having cast anchor in heaven, his heart never sinks.

All of us are born like boats without an anchor. The currents of life carry us in unintended directions. With the gift of the Spirit comes not only an anchor, but a rudder, a wheel, and a map. The Christian need not drift; he can steer.

The bet is that there's no such thing as original sin, a natural inclination in human nature leading to monstrous, barbarous, and uncivil behavior. Given the evidence of barbarity across the globe, one has to consider such a bet against remarkable odds, to say the least. Adrift from the Judeo-Christian ethical anchor, we seem more to be headed toward the Bermuda Triangle, ignoring the flotsam of other cultures who've ventured there before us: fascist German, communist Russia and China, the Middle East, pre-Christian India and Africa. When modern progressives are incapable of making the argument that the practice of sati in India, or the treatment of women in the Middle East, or the cannibalism of ancient Americans is evil – as seems to be increasingly the case (because given their philosophical foundations it must be the case) – the monsters have arrived. If

If the chief goal for Christians is intimacy with God, the fact that Pastor Lau doesn’t have material anchors constantly weighing him down, gives him a significant advantage over us.

The best way to tell a lie, Harry knew, was to weave it with what was true. Anchor it to those shiny, authentic pieces.

In the English-speaking world, talk about "love" is muddled by our tendency to squeeze many human types of love into a single syllable. C. S. Lewis recognized this problem sixty years ago, prompting him to compose a little book titled The Four Loves. The four on which Lewis concentrates all enjoy classical pedigrees: affection, friendship, romantic love (which he calls "eros"), and charity. Unsurprisingly, Lewis gives his highest praise to the last member of the group, which he presents as the distinctly Christian form of love. This is the form that answers the Lord's call to love God and neighbor. Lewis argues, however, that the other three loves bring great benefits to our lives as well. It is good to be affectionate, to have friends, to be "in love." Yet the Oxford don saw that none of these loves is from a Christian perspective "self-sufficient." "If the feeling is to be kept sweet," affection, friendship, and romance must be anchored elsewhere. Charity is the spring from which all other loves flow.

Christians pass through so many difficulties, doubts, temptations, and sins that we need to be consciously anchored in the gospel every day, if we are to “rejoice . . . always” (Phil. 4:4). That is, we need continual reassurance that our sins are forgiven for Jesus’s sake, that God is for us and not against us because of Christ, and that we are not destined for wrath, but for everlasting joy, because of the death and resurrection of Jesus.

The Orthodox Church, as did the early Christians, does not separate the personal from the communal. We do not confuse “personal” with “individual.” Our personal relationship with Jesus is anchored on our communal relationship to the Church as the nurturing and soul-sustaining Body of Christ.

We do sin, yes, and even fall into patterns of sin as a believer, necessitating spiritual carefulness and regular repentance (James 3:2). But no one can reverse the decision of God anchored in the death of His Son and realized in justifying faith. If in Christ we are not legally condemned, we cannot be legally condemned (Romans 8:33–34). We are innocent in God’s sight. No ideology can change this. While fighting situational sin until we die, our judicial status is unchanged and unchanging: “innocent” in Christ. This is our standing now, and it will be our standing until the end of the age, when we are acquitted by divine grace before the Great White Throne.

Still it is very important for us to call upon him: First, that our hearts may be fired with a zealous and burning desire ever to seek, love, and serve him, while we become accustomed in every need to flee to him as to a sacred anchor. Secondly, that there may enter our hearts no desire and no wish at all of which we should be ashamed to make him a witness, while we learn to set all our wishes before his eyes, and even to pour out our whole hearts. Thirdly, that we be prepared to receive his benefits with true gratitude of heart and thanksgiving, benefits that our prayer reminds us come from his hand. (Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, trans. Ford Lewis Battles, ed. John T. McNeill [Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1960], Book 3, chapter 20, section 3.)

The anchor that can keep our hearts steady amid all the studying is the resolve that Jesus must be tasted and treasured by us and through us.

Without religious faith, runs the argument, we cannot anchor our moral truths or truly know right from wrong. Without belief in God we will be lost in a miasma of moral nihilism. Yet the transformation in the first four centuries not just in the fortunes of Christianity but also in the ethical ideas that animated it reveals the flexibility of religious precepts. Believers may see religious ethics as absolute. They have to, in order to believe. But God Himself appears to be highly pragmatic. The absoluteness of religious precepts can seem unforgiving, less so the precepts themselves. The success of religious morality derives from its ability to cut its beliefs according to social needs while at the same time insisting that such beliefs are sacred because they are God-given.