Finding an Anchor in God

I am grieving right now. I’m grieving the loss of a damaging, unhealthy, and harmful friendship, but a friendship I held close to all the same. I’m grieving the loss of the familiar life I used to have, a life my old friend played a massive role in. I’m grieving myself, as it relates to this sudden and profound change in my life. In short, right now I feel like my foundation has cracked underneath me, and I’m falling.

And to make matters worse, the grief has reignited a firestorm of mental and physical health challenges, from stomach pain and weakness to a profound state of depression and lifelessness. I don’t want to eat, I sleep too much, and I feel a constant pit of emptiness in the center of my chest. Grief is a beast. It’s a jarring, painful reminder that this world isn’t how God intended it to be; a reminder of all that sin has wrecked upon His creation. And when you have Borderline Personality Disorder, like I do, the pain of grief can feel like you’re living a nightmare.

My emotions swing from rage from the betrayal I suffered, to a deep loneliness after adjusting to a world without my ex-friend, to a sense of relief the toxicity is finally over. I’ve learned to treat my emotions like weather. Florida’s weather, that is. If you live in Florida, you know the weather can change on a dime. My emotions work similarly. In the afternoon, I’m experiencing anger and indignation. In the evening, I’m feeling lonely and I’m facing crying spells. Just as a Floridian must prepare for an upcoming thunderstorm or a hurricane, I too must prepare for the pain of the day. And I do that by anchoring myself onto God, the only One Who will truly never leave or abandon us.

When a storm approaches, sailors put down an anchor so that their boats are not toppled over by the approaching tempest. The anchor doesn’t stop the storm from approaching; that’s entirely out of the sailor’s control. But what the anchor does is make it so that the boat can withstand the storm’s beatings and tumult without toppling over or sinking. When we are grieving, or going through a massively painful storm, we must anchor ourselves in God and in His Word.

Perhaps right now, as you read these words, you’re being pummeled by the storm above you. The rains rages on, and there’s no sunshine in sight. No matter how terrible in every way the storm is, and no matter how tragic your situation is, God is here for you, desiring to be your Anchor. Nothing else in this world can provide the solid foundation that you deserve. You need Someone Who can be there for you through thick and thin, without leaving you or abandoning you (Hebrews 13:5). God wants that for you. So anchor yourself along with me and let’s weather the storm together. I believe, despite the emotional pain I’m in right now as I read these words, that one day the clouds will part and the rain will cease — and that you’ll be here with me.

I am grieving right now. I’m grieving the loss of a damaging, unhealthy, and harmful friendship, but a friendship I held close to all the same. I’m grieving the loss of the familiar life I used to have, a life my old friend played a massive role in. I’m grieving myself, as it relates to this sudden and profound change in my life. In short, right now I feel like my foundation has cracked underneath me, and I’m falling.

And to make matters worse, the grief has reignited a firestorm of mental and physical health challenges, from stomach pain and weakness to a profound state of depression and lifelessness. I don’t want to eat, I sleep too much, and I feel a constant pit of emptiness in the center of my chest. Grief is a beast. It’s a jarring, painful reminder that this world isn’t how God intended it to be; a reminder of all that sin has wrecked upon His creation. And when you have Borderline Personality Disorder, like I do, the pain of grief can feel like you’re living a nightmare.

My emotions swing from rage from the betrayal I suffered, to a deep loneliness after adjusting to a world without my ex-friend, to a sense of relief the toxicity is finally over. I’ve learned to treat my emotions like weather. Florida’s weather, that is. If you live in Florida, you know the weather can change on a dime. My emotions work similarly. In the afternoon, I’m experiencing anger and indignation. In the evening, I’m feeling lonely and I’m facing crying spells. Just as a Floridian must prepare for an upcoming thunderstorm or a hurricane, I too must prepare for the pain of the day. And I do that by anchoring myself onto God, the only One Who will truly never leave or abandon us.

When a storm approaches, sailors put down an anchor so that their boats are not toppled over by the approaching tempest. The anchor doesn’t stop the storm from approaching; that’s entirely out of the sailor’s control. But what the anchor does is make it so that the boat can withstand the storm’s beatings and tumult without toppling over or sinking. When we are grieving, or going through a massively painful storm, we must anchor ourselves in God and in His Word.

Perhaps right now, as you read these words, you’re being pummeled by the storm above you. The rains rages on, and there’s no sunshine in sight. No matter how terrible in every way the storm is, and no matter how tragic your situation is, God is here for you, desiring to be your Anchor. Nothing else in this world can provide the solid foundation that you deserve. You need Someone Who can be there for you through thick and thin, without leaving you or abandoning you (Hebrews 13:5). God wants that for you. So anchor yourself along with me and let’s weather the storm together. I believe, despite the emotional pain I’m in right now as I read these words, that one day the clouds will part and the rain will cease — and that you’ll be here with me.