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Jason Henshaw

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Anchored Part 1: What are you anchored to?

Introduction

This morning we are going to start a series on being anchored. While we will talk later in the series how to practically be anchored in our daily lives, this morning I want to talk to you about why we need to be anchored and what we need to be anchored to.

This morning we will be in Hebrews 6:13-20. While you are turning there, I want to give us context to our passage.

Hebrews was a letter written to encourage the Jewish Christian facing trials.

Did Paul think about shipwrecks while writing this?

Insert more background here

Hebrews 6:13-20

I want to make some observations from our text this morning.

Body:

An Anchor for the Soul

Hebrews 6:13–20

When God made his promise to Abraham, since there was no one greater for him to swear by, he swore by himself, saying, “I will surely bless you and give you many descendants.” And so after waiting patiently, Abraham received what was promised. Men swear by someone greater than themselves, and the oath confirms what is said and puts an end to all argument. Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, he confirmed it with an oath. God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled to take hold of the hope offered to us may be greatly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf. He has become a high priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek. (6:13–20)

The book of Genesis tells us that after Abram set out from the pagan city of Ur to go to the land of Canaan, he was delayed for some years in the city of Haran until the death of his father Terah (cf. Genesis 11:27–32). Genesis also records that though Abram and Sarai had been married for some years, Abram being seventy-five when he left Haran (12:4), they were still childless. So we understand that the great Abrahamic Covenant (God’s promise to Abram when he departed Haran, recorded in Genesis 12:1–3, that he would make a great nation from Abram and bless all the peoples on earth) was made to a man who had no physical offspring.

We also understand that the reiterations of the covenant promise were made when he still had no children. After the tragic separation from Lot, God told him:

Lift up your eyes from where you are and look north and south, east and west. All the land that you see I will give to you and your offspring forever. I will make your offspring like the dust of the earth, so that if anyone could count the dust, then your offspring could be counted. Go, walk through the length and breadth of the land, for I am giving it to you. (Genesis 13:14–17)

He had no children after being in the land ten years, and on that fateful day while suffering from post-battle fatigue incurred in defending the land from four kings (Genesis 14), he drifted off to sleep, perhaps dejectedly reflecting that after all this he had no heir to carry on, when suddenly God spoke: “Do not be afraid, Abram. I am your shield, your very great reward” (Genesis 15:1). Rallying words! Nevertheless, Abram, still discouraged, voiced his fear that because he was childless his estate would go to his servant.

At this low point, the word of the Lord came to him: “ ‘A son coming from your own body will be your heir.’ He took him outside and said, ‘Look at the heavens and count the stars—if indeed you can count them.’ Then he said to him, ‘So shall your offspring be’ ” (Genesis 15:4, 5).

We do not know whether Abram’s response was immediate or came after some thought, or whether it was verbal or mental, but we do have this immortal record: “Abram believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness” (Genesis 15:6). He believed that he would become a father, and that his offspring would have children, and that his line would go on and on like the visible stars. The aged patriarch rested everything on God’s word. As a result, he was declared righteous apart from works, fourteen years before circumcision (Genesis 17) and hundreds of years before the Law!

This was one of the greatest events in the history of salvation, and the Lord commemorated it with a further sign when he ordered Abram to make sacrifices and divide them into two piles. Then, when the sun had set, God appeared in the night as “a smoking firepot with a blazing torch… and passed between the pieces” (v. 17) in the traditional figure-eight pattern of covenant, signifying that his promise was unconditional and that he (God) would be torn asunder like the pieces if he failed to keep his promise.

To be sure, Abram’s unwavering faith displayed at this great moment (cf. Romans 4:10ff.) did suffer some future lapses, but his faith also grew to towering proportions through the hard times that were to come.

Finally, Abraham and Sarah were given their dream in baby Isaac (literally, “laughter”)—and in that little boy, soon grown to manhood, they saw the promise in full bloom. Yet there was one more test and perfection awaiting the patriarch’s faith. Abraham was well over one hundred years old, according to Genesis 22, when God said to him, “ ‘Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains I will tell you about’ ” (v. 2). Easily, this is the most shocking command ever given to any human being by God! We can imagine the numbing horror that must have spread over Abraham’s soul. This makes his ready obedience almost as equally shocking, because with the first glow of dawn, without a word to aged Sarah, Abraham saddled his donkey, quietly called for two servants and his son Isaac, split wood for the sacrificial pyre, and began the terrible journey (v. 3).

How could he do it? we wonder. Our text gives us the answer: “On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place in the distance. He said to his servants, ‘Stay here with the donkey while I and the boy go over there. We will worship and then we will come back to you’ ” (vv. 4, 5). Abraham was confident they would return together! This was because, as the writer of Hebrews reveals, “Abraham reasoned that God could raise the dead, and figuratively speaking, he did receive Isaac back from death” (11:19; cf. vv. 17, 18). Abraham so believed that God would bless him through Isaac, giving him offspring as numerous as the stars, that he was sure God would resurrect his son!

The poignant exchange between father and son as they ascended Mt. Moriah—Isaac’s dawning realization that he was the sacrifice—the construction of the altar—Isaac’s voluntary submission to his aged father as he was bound—the sobbing, the kisses, the tears, the terrible blade in the father’s trembling hand—the nausea, the darkness—the imminent convulsions of his only son—all this shows only the tip of Abraham’s emotions as he faithfully carried out God’s will.

Then with the blade poised for descent, the angel of Heaven called, “Abraham! Abraham!” and we know the rest of the story in all its tender redemptive glory. But do we remember the final pronouncement of the angel of the Lord—because it has everything to do with our text in Hebrews:

I swear by myself, declares the Lord, that because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your only son, I will surely bless you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as the sand on the seashore. Your descendants will take possession of the cities of their enemies, and through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed, because you have obeyed me. (Genesis 22:16–18)

The significance of this from the perspective of the writer of Hebrews is that whereas God had repeatedly promisedAbraham he would make a great nation from him, he here swore an oath to do so. Hebrews 6:13, 14 tells us: “When God made his promise to Abraham, since there was no one greater for him to swear by, he swore by himself, saying, ‘I will surely bless you and give you many descendants’ ” (quoting Genesis 22:17). God was so pleased with Abraham’s supreme act of faith that he did something he had never done before—he swore that the promise would come to pass. James offers further insight into why God was pleased: “Was not our ancestor Abraham considered righteous for what he did when he offered his son Isaac on the altar? You see that his faith and his actions were working together, and his faith was made complete by what he did” (2:21, 22).

The pertinence of this to the little Hebrew church as it braced for the tempests ahead is expressed in the next line: “And so after waiting patiently, Abraham received what was promised” (v. 15). This is an implicit call to the church for a faith that is so firm it enables steadfastness through the uneven seas of life. Abraham’s faith saw the unseen. He saw a living God who was sovereign in all of life—he saw his sacrificed son resurrected and living on—he saw himself fathering a sea of humanity—he saw blessing for the whole earth. And because he saw this, he was gloriously long-suffering through many years.

We Have God’s Word for It (Vv. 16–18)

Having introduced the subject of oaths, the writer proceeds to explain about human and divine oaths and what great encouragement the latter brings to us.

Regarding human oaths he says, “Men swear by someone greater than themselves, and the oath confirms what is said and puts an end to all argument” (v. 16). The reason human oaths are used to end arguments is the unreliability of human speech due to sin—that is, people are naturally liars. In the context of ancient culture (when people generally feared God), swearing by a greater thing helped assure truth. And if one swore by God, it served to end an argument. This was especially true in Hebrew culture where lying while making an oath was a transgression of the Third Commandment against misusing the name of God and so deserved the punishment of God (cf. Deuteronomy 5:11). Therefore, we see that human oaths were a powerful assurance of carrying out one’s word.

This is essentially why God chose to swear by an oath, as the writer explains: “Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, he confirmed it with an oath” (v. 17). God did not have to swear by an oath, but he did so as a condescension or accommodation to human weakness.

Of course, in choosing to make an oath, he could only choose to swear by himself because there was nothing or no one higher to swear by. To swear by anything lesser would have the effect of making his oath less permanent. In a different context, Rabbi Eleazar stated the principle this way:

Lord of the world, if thou hadst sworn by heaven or by earth, I would have been able to say: As heaven and earth shall pass away, so also thine oath shall pass away. But now that thou hast sworn by thy great Name (by thyself), as thy great Name lives and abides eternally, so shall thine oath continue secure in all eternity.” (Berakhot 32)

The language behind our text in verse 17—“Because God wanted”—indicates that God’s decision to make an oath in reaffirming the Abrahamic Covenant was not a whim but a passionate sovereign choice, because the Greek word is stronger than “wanted”—indicating the purposeful, deliberate exercise of his will.

And why was God so premeditative about making his oath? Verse 18 answers, “God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled to take hold of the hope offered to us may be greatly encouraged” (literally, “strong, powerful encouragement”). Powerful encouragement indeed is here if we will address ourselves to the marrow of this text because the “two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie” are his word of promise and his oath. His promise to Abraham, and to us, can do nothing other than come true because God’s “word is truth” (John 17:17) and because God “does not lie” (Titus 1:2). He is the author of truth, the essence of truth. His oath, though unnecessary, is the double assurance that he cannot lie. Truth has sworn by itself that its truth shall truly be fulfilled. There is no more possibility of God’s promises failing us than of God falling out of Heaven! His Word is eternally sealed with the double surety of promise and oath.

Because of this, “the hope” we have fled to and take hold of is sure. We must understand that it is an objectivehope, and not the subjective, sentimental optimism the world so readily embraces. People love to boast of their optimism—for example, Sir Thomas Lipton:

I am the world’s greatest optimist. I am proud of the distinction. There is something buoyant and healthy in being an optimist. It is because of my optimism that I have gone through life smiling. I am always in good humor and good fettle. Dr. Optimist is the finest chap in any city or country. Just try a course of his treatment. It will work wonders, and this doctor charges no fees.

Well, optimism is certainly better than pessimism. But blind, secular optimism flourishes best where the ground is uncritically shallow and withers with the difficulties of life. Optimism is good for the body, but it will not save you. I have seen hopeful, optimistic people die. In fact, terminal cancer victims during remission will often experience a rush of enthusiastic optimism only weeks before death. Looking at the bright side of things may seem bold and brave, but if it involves a foolish neglect of the facts that suggest the opposite, it makes failure only more bitter. Bankruptcies often visit those who insist on looking on nothing but the bright side of their finances.

The hope spoken of here does not originate within us, but comes from the outside. New Testament scholar William Lane says categorically, “In Hebrews, the word ‘hope’ never describes a subjective attitude (i.e. ‘our hope’ or ‘hopefulness’) but always denotes the objective context of hope.”

Here our hope centers on the objective promises of God, which are fleshed out for us in the ultimate blessing of the world through Jesus Christ. The “hope offered to us” comes from the fact that we are in Christ, the Son who fulfilled Abraham’s covenant—and that at the last we will be with Christ and like Christ (cf. John 14:3; 1 John 3:2). Jesus is the foundation and substance of our hope.

God also swore in another place, insuring Jesus’ eternal priesthood, “The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind: ‘You are a priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek’ ” (Psalm 110:4; cf. Hebrews 5:6). Jesus is the thing hoped for and the ground for eternal optimism, as we shall see.

Our hope is doubly sure! God has promisedit and sworn it. Everything promised comes to us through Christ. We have God’s word for it. He wants us to take hold of it!

We Have God’s Anchor for It (Vv. 19, 20)

Now, having God’s word for it, he gives us his “anchor”—a metaphor which suggests deepest security: “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf. He has become a high priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek” (vv. 19, 20).

To appreciate what is said here, we must remember that the curtain was a thickly woven piece of tapestry hung between the inner and outer chambers of the Tabernacle. No one could see through the curtain, and the Holy of Holies was inaccessible to all but the high priest, who passed within only once a year. Outside the curtain was the Holy Place with the altar of incense, the golden candlestick, and the table of shewbread—all devoted to the people’s worship. It was between these two compartments of the Tabernacle—the Holy Place representing the earthly worshiping life of God’s people, and the Holy of Holies representing God’s presence—that the curtain hung. Together, these two sides of the curtain symbolize living spiritual realities—God’s presence in Heaven and the storm-tossed church worshiping below (cf. chapter 9).

But then an anchor is hurled from the Church. But instead of falling to the depths, it rises through the blue skies and on up through deep heaven where it passes unhindered through the curtain and anchors on the throne of God in the heavenly holy of holies where Jesus is seated “at the right hand of the Majesty in heaven” (1:3). Our lives are accessed and anchored in Heaven!

The significance of this was immediate in the ancient world because an anchor was everything to those at sea. A firm anchorage meant security. Well-anchored, the winds could blow, but the ship would not be awash or headed for the rocks. For this reason the famous catacomb of Priscilla is decorated with no less than sixty anchors!

What a tremendous encouragement: “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain” (v. 19). But there is something more, for there is another who has pierced the veil, one who actually tore it in two—Jesus: “Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf. He has become a high priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek” (v. 20; cf. Matthew 27:50, 51). We are anchored in the Father’s presence for eternity—and Jesus at his right hand perpetually intercedes for his Church. His continual priestly prayer for us is the medium for our survival.

He is there as the one “who went before us”—literally as our prodromos, our “forerunner.” Just as forerunners were sent to explore the way for those who would follow, Christ, our prodromos, has gone ahead of us to prepare the way. In fact, our forerunner left this message for us: “In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going” (John 14:2–4). There is no doubt that we can and will follow.

If we are true followers of Christ, the prows of our boats will always be treading heavy seas and bucking contrary winds. The disciples found this out when they obeyed Jesus and launched out in the night for the other side of Galilee. The reason they were in stormy waters was that they were doing what he said (cf. Matthew 14:22–32). It has always been that way. Abraham’s ships—his camels, his desert schooners—were always facing contrary winds, “For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God” (11:10). “Everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Timothy 3:12).

But we are not flotsam on the tides. We have a hope—a hope outside ourselves.

• It is anchored in Heaven. We have continual access to God’s presence, not just once a year through a fallible man, but always—at every moment—through our high priest, Jesus Christ.

• It is anchored in Christ, our prodromos who has gone to prepare a place for us.

• It is anchored in Christ, our Melchizedekian priest who ministers perpetually and eternally.

• It is sure, for it is doubly impossible for God to lie.[1]

III. An Assurance (6:9–20)

The writer closes with as solid a passage on eternal security as we will find anywhere in the Bible. He points, first of all, to their own lives (vv. 10–12) and reminds them that they had given every evidence of being true Christians. We find faith, hope, and love described in these three verses, and these traits are the characteristics of true believers (1 Thes. 1:3; Rom. 5:1–5). But he cautions them in v. 12 not to be “dull of hearing” (or “slothful,” same word as in 5:11). God has given His promises; they need only exercise faith and patience to receive the blessing.

He then uses Abraham as an illustration of patient faith. Certainly Abraham sinned—and even repeated one sin twice!—yet God kept His promises to him. After all, the covenants of God do not depend on the faith of the saints for their certainty; they depend only on the faithfulness of God. God verified the promise of Gen. 22:16–17 by swearing by Himself—and that settled it! Abraham did not receive the promised blessing because of his own goodness or obedience, but because of the faithfulness of God. Abraham experienced many trials and testings (as did the original readers of Hebrews), but God saw him through.

In v. 17, the writer says that God did all this for Abraham that the “heirs” might know the dependability of God’s counsel and promise. Who are these heirs? According to v. 18, all true believers are heirs, for we are Abraham’s children by faith (see Gal. 3). So, there are “two immutable things” that give us assurance: God’s promises (for God cannot lie) and God’s oath (for God cannot change). The unchanging Word of God and the unchanging Person of God are all we need to assure us that we are saved and kept for eternity. We have a “hope” to anchor our souls, and this “hope” is Christ Himself (7:19–20; 1 Tim. 1:1). How can we “drift” spiritually (2:1–3) when in Christ we are anchored to heaven itself? We have a sure and steadfast anchor; and we have a “Forerunner” (Christ) who has opened the way for us and will see to it that we one day shall join Him in glory. Instead of frightening saints into thinking they are lost, this wonderful chapter warns against unbelief and an unrepentant heart and also assures us that we are anchored in eternity.[2]

Conclusion:

[1]R. Kent Hughes, Hebrews: An Anchor for the Soul, vol. 1, Preaching the Word (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books, 1993), 171–179. [2]Warren W. Wiersbe, Wiersbe’s Expository Outlines on the New Testament (Wheaton, IL: Victor Books, 1992), 693.

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