White Elephant

Don drew open the bedroom curtains. I heard his sharp intake of breath and looked out.

A white elephant lay on its shoulder in the strawberry patch, dead legs stretched heavenwards. We’d been aware of the wild winds and the pounding rain the night before. Don had been into the attic with a tub to catch a persistent drip we heard slipping through a cracked slate on the roof. We’d unplugged computer, wifi, telephones, having been burned, literally, in previous years when thunder and lightning struck. We had taken precautions the night before.

But we’d forgotten the marquee. A tented shelter we use most summers when we have barbecues, usually to protect folk from the rains of a Scottish summer, but this year to provide some respite from the hot summer sun. Distracted by the other concerns, we’d forgotten it was still sitting, vulnerable, out in the wind and rain. We’d forgotten to anchor it to the ground with tent stakes. We thought it was secure. It looked secure. But it wasn’t.

Abide in me, Jesus advises. Sink your anchor deep into the love of God. Link your heart with his. Live in the shadow of his wings. Find shelter in the rock of ages. Tethered to God, no storms of life can tear away his protective, loving arms.

Storms hit us all. When the next one hits me, I will remember the sight of that upturned marquee in the garden, canvas impaled on one of the sturdy fence posts, reinforced apex split from the strain of a violent assault. Hollow, heavy steel poles reaching towards the skies, towering over us as we clambered through the strawberries releasing clips, unscrewing nuts and bolts. Everything about that marquee was sound, except its foundation. It sat precariously on the parched lawn, unanchored, ready to somersault into disaster when the strong winds rose.

It’s no good anchoring the marquee in the midst of high winds though. The stakes needed to be hammered in before the storm hit. Day by day, living in the presence of the Lord, reading his word, praising and worshipping, I am pounding in those stakes. I want to be ready.

Be prepared

It’s all about the preparation, our guest said in describing the weaving course she is doing. If the prep is done right, the end product will be sound and not skewed or squint in any way. 

Into my head popped the old hymn, ‘Will your anchor hold in the storms of life?’ It’s all about preparation. 

Storms hit us all, and if we have planted our anchors in Jesus they will hold, though we may be tossed and turned. How do we plant our anchors in Jesus? Nurturing that relationship with him through Bible reading, prayer and hanging around with other believers. 

It’s all about preparation.

Rudderless

Someone I know is bobbing around mentally just now. She has lost sense of direction or progression and contradicts her adamant pronouncements within seconds. Every pronouncement she makes, she believes to be a true assessment of the situation, and yet a few moments later she can express certainty that it is just the opposite.

It is as if she has lost her rudder and the ability to steer a course through her days and weeks. The familiar compass points of time and days is muddled and has to be checked by notations on numerous calendars round the house. 

She doesn’t seem anxious or even aware of her frequent self-contradictions. 

Though she has lost her rudder, her anchor is still sunk deep into her faith in the Lord Jesus, and it is that anchor which is holding her. She is safe, bobbing round first facing one way, then another, but still held securely to the rock of ages.

There is an old hymn, ‘Will your anchor hold?’, and I am seeing this demonstrated in this person’s life. Everything else seems to be slipping, but her anchor is holding fast. 

Thank God.