Reflections

Reflection No. 297 of 4322

Context · Reflection

Hebrews 6:9-20: a reflection

9But, beloved, we are persuaded of better things for you, and things that accompany salvation, even though we speak like this. 10For God is not unrighteous, so as to forget your work and the labor of love which you showed toward his name, in that you served the saints, and still do serve them. 11We desire that each one of you may show the same diligence to the fullness of hope even to the end, 12that you won’t be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and perseverance inherited the promises. 13For when God made a promise to Abraham, since he could swear by no one greater, he swore by himself, 14saying, “Surely blessing I will bless you, and multiplying I will multiply you.” 15Thus, having patiently endured, he obtained the promise. 16For men indeed swear by a greater one, and in every dispute of theirs the oath is final for confirmation. 17In this way God, being determined to show more abundantly to the heirs of the promise the immutability of his counsel, interposed with an oath, 18that by two immutable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we may have a strong encouragement, who have fled for refuge to take hold of the hope set before us. 19This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and entering into that which is within the veil, 20where as a forerunner Jesus entered for us, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.

Hebrews wants to give struggling believers a strong encouragement, and it does so by describing hope in a memorable way: we have this hope as an anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast, one that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf. Hope, the writer says, is like an anchor, and everything depends on where the anchor is set.

Notice where this anchor holds. Not in our circumstances, which shift and heave like the surface of the sea, but behind the veil, in the very presence of God, where Jesus himself has already entered on our behalf. Our hope is anchored not in anything down here that can move or fail, but up there, in God's own presence, secured by Christ who has gone ahead of us. That is why the writer calls it sure and steadfast. An anchor set in the seabed of God's presence does not drag.

And it is made doubly sure by God's oath: when God made his promise to Abraham, he swore by himself, so that by two unchangeable things, his promise and his oath, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we might have strong encouragement. If your hope feels like it is dragging in the storm, ask where its anchor is set. Anchored in circumstances, it will not hold; they move. Anchored behind the veil, in God's presence, secured by Christ and guaranteed by God's own oath, it holds sure and steadfast through any storm. Set your hope there.

Lord, my hope is an anchor of the soul, and everything depends on where it is set. When it drags in the storm, help me anchor it not in my shifting circumstances but behind the veil, in your very presence, where Jesus has gone ahead for me. Made sure by your promise and your oath, let my hope hold steadfast through every storm. Set my anchor in you.