The Wandering Bark (1): Hope, Meditations from Hebrews 6 & 10
“So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of His purpose, He guaranteed it with an oath, so that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the Hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast Anchor of the soul, a Hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.” Hebrews 6:17-20
“Let us hold fast the confession of our Hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful.” Hebrews 10:23
Little ship she somehow lost her Anchor in the night.
While the night watch slept, the stars were hid to her suffocating fright.
The captain promised he’d be a man, the steersman took an oath,
But no one stood his ground that day when the rope snapped loose from Hope.
Driven before a freezing wind, she ran through dark waves of shame,
And the lurking rocks bared their teeth to shred her hull with pain.
Beneath the sea, behind the clouds, were luminous stars and pearls,
But only a gale—stern providence, might rend the veil or cleave the sea or show the
treasures there furled.
There’s need to find a solid Rock, a harboring ground again
To regain an Anchor, else at storms’ mercy, will she forever bend.
Will no one lift a beacon lamp and share Another’s Light?
A single lamp, mirror-magnified, could direct her course to Life.
Near the rocks and just in time, a spark gleams through the vapor.
Quivering, she draws a little near, peering at unlooked-for favor.
Toiling still, she rounds a bend and escapes into a Harbor;
Deafened, bruised, stunned she stares—on the shore rests her Anchor.
Illuminated by the Lighthouse ray, she staggers towards the Anchor
But soon perceives it’s lit the more by sun rays from the Giver.
She turns around as the Lighthouse pales, and Hope grows, and fades the night;
A veil is rent from her tear-swept eyes now overwhelmed with Beauty-blasted sight.
In that Refuge, she does rest, Anchor-held once more;
Trust in the Lighthouse pointed only to the Light-beyond-Light of her Lord.
And undismayed, she clings to Hope, though she must sail again by and by;
This Truth will go before her evermore that sworn to Himself, God cannot lie.
The Wandering Bark (II): Love, Meditations from Romans 8
“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us…No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the Love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:18, 37-39
A little ship once battered, lost, she’d healed within the Harbor;
Now more and more on errands she’s sent, growing ever stronger.
Yet to the Harbor each night she’d come, guided by Lighthouse ray
To cheer her on when set the sun and fears her memory might dismay.
One day a new mission’s given, far beyond the Harbor,
And stronger winds of Providence draw her still the farther.
Dusk approaching, she looks longing back, but onward she must go;
Though perplexed, against orders she may not turn, though her pathway lead
No Harbor opens up, no secret bay, to shelter her tonight;
Even a Lighthouse’s pale assuring ray is denied her aching sight.
As night falls thick and gloom is deep, comes glory unexpected by far:
In the dark, she raises up her head and, through tears, sees the Stars!
Perfect patterns in the night, beyond shadow of age or change,
A certain Guide to the Wandering Bark this Love now became.
What Love could hide in darkness, to appear without sun or Lighthouse lamp?
A Love, shining and inseparable, though distress and peril should seek to stamp.
Little ship, Wandering Bark, with Hope’s Anchor clasped so tight
Has found a Refuge far from Harbor, a Guide surer than Lighthouse Bright.
Though still alone, a Pattern she discerns and gazes up once more;
With nothing left on which to rest her trust, her Lord’s Love is the more assured.
And though she’ll at morning’s light homeward turn and see
Familiar faces, yet Love inseparable will ever foremost be.
A Love that resurrects, adopts, and makes peace is Refuge from all fear;
Though suffering’s early and glory’s delayed, yet a freedom of Hope to the Conquerors
by Love is guaranteed as near.