The Anchor

They were listening to an address from a local speaker. They hadn’t wanted to go. Guilt led him there and marriage led her there. She thought that if she could get over herself and find something positive in the message that it would be doable and at the same time support her husband in his need to attend.

There are many things to possibly look forward to while going to that address such as community, the chance to sing something lovely and meaningful (that would be more for her enjoyment than his), the opportunity to absorb the peacefulness that can be brought by familiarity, the chance to publicly confess the generality of their waywardness as they gave mental screen shots to those that they privately remembered. There was the chance to get absolution publicly although taken in each of their hearts privately. Those were all valid reasons to give it a go.

The words from the speaker should have made no sense to those assembled. It was as if the life guard was telling the swimmers not to go swimming even though the pool was open and the skies were clear. It was as if the train conductor took the tickets and then admonished the riders for getting on the train. It was as if the chef has opened the restaurant just for them and then told them not to eat. Where was the “Come on in the water is fine!, I hope your trip is just what you need and you are going to get really great food.”?

What they only heard was, “You are a mess and you have missed the boat…again,” When what they came to hear was, “We know you are in need of joy because of your self inflicted problems and the problems brought to your circle of life by those in the world. You are loved and all that is taken care of because of that great love. You are forgiven. Welcome. Lift up your heads. You are loved. You are loved. Now what are you going to do?”

She had enough of the spiritual beat down and gave a furtive look to her husband. It was one of those, “Get me out of here. I can’t even believe I came to this. Am I hearing this correctly?” Her legs were twitching and itching to bolt. With a calm and steady hand her husband put his hand on her knee as if to keep her grounded. He is the voice of reason and that made her take a deep breath and flip the switch. She flipped in her head to, “Ok, something is wrong with the speaker and he needs help.” rather than “Something is wrong with the speaker and I am leaving because he is messed up.” She would have created a scene which was not even her plan although her husband would like to avoid all uncomfortable situations and she is mostly fine with them.

It was as if the husband’s hand was an anchor and his words that said, “We will talk about it when we get out of here,” was the chain. Talk they did, mostly her, but still…the anchor held the boat in the storm.

Blessed be the anchors. You are of heaven and Jesus blesses you.

 

2 thoughts on “The Anchor

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