overtake the lone vessel flying the Stars and Stripes. As the ocean breezes stilled to a dead calm, Captain Hull further documented the crisis: “It soon appeared . . . that our escape was impossible . . . and not the least hope of a breeze, to give us a chance of . . . out-sailing them.” 13
But Captain Hull soon came up with an alternative strategy to save the vessel. He would try to keep the
Constitution
out of harm’s way . . . by
kedging
.
Captain Hull ordered a small boat to tow two of the
Constitution
’sanchors far ahead of the ship and then drop them into the ocean. As soon as the anchors were deployed (about 2,400 feet ahead of the ship), the seamen on deck immediately began winding the rope onto the capstan, drawing the
Constitution
toward the anchors in the sea and away from the pursuing ships. The process was repeated again and again, and soon the ship slipped out of danger. However, the enemy ships, also stalled because there was no wind, copied Captain Hull’s clever naval strategy.
For the next two days and nights the kedging continued. Although shots were fired, the
Constitution
steadily increased her lead, and eventually the British gave up their pursuit.
Just like the
Constitution,
you may find yourself stalled with no wind in your sails. You’re in a helpless situation . . . you need to move out of harm’s way. It’s then that you need an Anchor not just to steady you but also to draw you away from a destructive situation . . . to draw you away from danger. As with kedging, the more you draw near to the Anchor, the more you move out of danger.
Jesus works in our lives like a kedge anchor, moving us out of harm’s way, drawing us closer to Him. The spiritual rode connecting us to Him is unbreakable. We are forever attached to our Anchor as He leads us across the seas of life.
Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. (James. 4:8 esv)
4
THE FLASH FLOODS OF AFFLICTION
HOPE TEACHES YOU TO TRUST
Trust:
Caught in the Rip Current
“You have cancer. You will have a mastectomy. You will lose your hair.”
Those were the exact words spoken to me rapid-fire and matter-of-factly by the radiologist in October 2001. I was stunned. The whole situation seemed surreal, and the diagnosis immediately sent my thoughts spinning.
But I have to speak at a conference in Baltimore in two days
and right after that in New York. I don’t have time for cancer.
How can this be right? I have no family history of breast cancer. I’ve never
even considered it a possibility.
And what does my hair have to do with this? If I have cancer and need to
have a mastectomy, my hair is the least of my concerns.
I should also point out that this diagnosis came a month after the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks against the United States. My personal crisis occurred at almost the same time as our horrendous national crisis. Neither crisis took God by surprise . . .
that
I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. But still I found myself longing for and needing more . . .
hope
.
DAZED AND DISORIENTED
If you’ve ever been hit with sudden bad news, you know the feeling—immediate distress, disorientation, disbelief.
It just can’t be.
I kept asking myself,
Can this really be
happening?
Driving home from the hospital with my assistant and dear friend Kay, we rode along in silence, both of us numb and dazed. Arriving at my house, we stood in the entryway for a moment, trying to figure out what to do next. It seemed pointless to go right back to life’s mundane tasks—attending to paperwork, returning emails, checking phone messages.
Then I noticed tears in Kay’s eyes. I said, “It’s going to be all right, Kay.
I’ll
be all right.”
“I know, I know . . .” she said, and her voice trailed off.
Kay is not typically a teary person. But there she was, her eyes filling with pools of water. Aside from my deep appreciation for Kay’s concern, I took her tears as another sign that I was in for a very extraordinary
But Captain Hull soon came up with an alternative strategy to save the vessel. He would try to keep the
Constitution
out of harm’s way . . . by
kedging
.
Captain Hull ordered a small boat to tow two of the
Constitution
’sanchors far ahead of the ship and then drop them into the ocean. As soon as the anchors were deployed (about 2,400 feet ahead of the ship), the seamen on deck immediately began winding the rope onto the capstan, drawing the
Constitution
toward the anchors in the sea and away from the pursuing ships. The process was repeated again and again, and soon the ship slipped out of danger. However, the enemy ships, also stalled because there was no wind, copied Captain Hull’s clever naval strategy.
For the next two days and nights the kedging continued. Although shots were fired, the
Constitution
steadily increased her lead, and eventually the British gave up their pursuit.
Just like the
Constitution,
you may find yourself stalled with no wind in your sails. You’re in a helpless situation . . . you need to move out of harm’s way. It’s then that you need an Anchor not just to steady you but also to draw you away from a destructive situation . . . to draw you away from danger. As with kedging, the more you draw near to the Anchor, the more you move out of danger.
Jesus works in our lives like a kedge anchor, moving us out of harm’s way, drawing us closer to Him. The spiritual rode connecting us to Him is unbreakable. We are forever attached to our Anchor as He leads us across the seas of life.
Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. (James. 4:8 esv)
4
THE FLASH FLOODS OF AFFLICTION
HOPE TEACHES YOU TO TRUST
Trust:
Caught in the Rip Current
“You have cancer. You will have a mastectomy. You will lose your hair.”
Those were the exact words spoken to me rapid-fire and matter-of-factly by the radiologist in October 2001. I was stunned. The whole situation seemed surreal, and the diagnosis immediately sent my thoughts spinning.
But I have to speak at a conference in Baltimore in two days
and right after that in New York. I don’t have time for cancer.
How can this be right? I have no family history of breast cancer. I’ve never
even considered it a possibility.
And what does my hair have to do with this? If I have cancer and need to
have a mastectomy, my hair is the least of my concerns.
I should also point out that this diagnosis came a month after the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks against the United States. My personal crisis occurred at almost the same time as our horrendous national crisis. Neither crisis took God by surprise . . .
that
I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. But still I found myself longing for and needing more . . .
hope
.
DAZED AND DISORIENTED
If you’ve ever been hit with sudden bad news, you know the feeling—immediate distress, disorientation, disbelief.
It just can’t be.
I kept asking myself,
Can this really be
happening?
Driving home from the hospital with my assistant and dear friend Kay, we rode along in silence, both of us numb and dazed. Arriving at my house, we stood in the entryway for a moment, trying to figure out what to do next. It seemed pointless to go right back to life’s mundane tasks—attending to paperwork, returning emails, checking phone messages.
Then I noticed tears in Kay’s eyes. I said, “It’s going to be all right, Kay.
I’ll
be all right.”
“I know, I know . . .” she said, and her voice trailed off.
Kay is not typically a teary person. But there she was, her eyes filling with pools of water. Aside from my deep appreciation for Kay’s concern, I took her tears as another sign that I was in for a very extraordinary
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