1.) WEIGH YOUR ANCHOR, 2.) TURN, 3.) FIGHT

I love old movies, and I had a chance to watch plenty of them, given my parents' love for Errol Flynn and our purchase of a VCR long after what felt like the rest of the world owning one. Errol Flynn was well-known for his sweeping sea sagas, featuring fencing and dueling and generally being awesome. Ships coming alongside, cannon running out, crews roping across to the opposing deck all made for fantastic cinema, and I was riveted.

Imagine my surprise and delight when Disney decided to do a pirate franchise. Imagine, even further, my surprise and delight when the Lord gave me some rock-solid spiritual application as a result of said pirate franchise. ;) 

Hope you enjoy!

*****

1.) WEIGH YOUR ANCHOR, 2.) TURN, 3.) FIGHT

In the Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl, there's an adrenaline-driven scene where two clipper ships are racing through the water, the Black Pearl pursuing the Interceptor. The tempo of battle is in the air, and dread mounts as the Black Pearl clearly gains on the Interceptor. The Interceptor drops supplies into the water to lighten its load and increase its speed, but nothing seems to work.

There's no hope; the Pearl is too fast, the Interceptor cannot outrun her. There's only one option left. The first mate, Mr. Gibbs, shouts an order to the ship's crew, "Lower the starboard anchor! Do it, you gobs, or it's you we'll load into the cannons!" 

In other words: Hurry! No time to slowly shift about. No time to turn the captain's wheel and tack into the wind. The enemy is approaching.

Turn and fight. 

Even a rudimentary awareness of what a clipper ship looks like will tell you; you can't fight a sea-battle off the stern of your ship. The vessels are too narrow; the most effective way to engage the enemy is to come broadside with them, where you can run out the cannons and gain full access to the width and breadth of the ship.

In this scene, turn and fight is the only course left to the people aboard the Interceptor, so they weigh anchor into the heart of the seabed. The heavy anchor sinks through the swift-moving current to the ocean floor, dragging through the sand at the bottom, and then catches on an immovable rock.

The ship turns. It didn't drift slightly. It didn't slowly maneuver to starboard. The momentum of the ship and its abrupt halt dips the vessel sideways until it almost heels over. The ship tilts dramatically, people lurch off-balance to the deck. The all-important-to-the-story medallion slides off a table to somewhere on the floor.

The dramatic action has its intended consequence: Turn and fight now settles into tense stillness before the impending battle. The two ships line up immediately broadsides, and the battle is ready to begin. Both crews line the railings; the cannons are out, ready for battle.

Where in the world are you going with this, Tamara?!

I have a point, I promise. ;) 

In Genesis 22, the Lord commands Abraham to take his son, Isaac, to the region of Moriah, where he is to sacrifice his son on an altar.

My head nearly always pounds with questions when I get to this part in the story. Obviously, I know the outcome, but Abraham doesn't. What must he be asking himself? Asking God?

Lord! For years and years and years, You have promised me this son. You even gave me a name for him. I waited decades for Your promise to come to pass. Now that it has, are You really going to go back on it? Do You have another son waiting in the wings? You told me Your covenant would come through Isaac!

The Bible has no record of such thoughts from Abraham, but as a parent, I can't help but wonder if at least a few of these thoughts might have cropped up in his mind.

However, Abraham, consistently in line with his character, promptly obeys the Lord. In verse 3: "Early the next morning," Abraham sets out with some of his servants and his son Isaac. It's about a three day journey from where Abraham lived in Beersheba - to Moriah, which, interestingly, is the later site of the temple in Jerusalem, and is today where the Dome of the Rock stands in present-day Israel.

The rest of the story goes as follows: They reach Moriah, and Abraham and Isaac leave their servants with the donkey. They go on by themselves. Isaac, intelligent lad that he is, notices that a.) they've got the firewood (he's got it strapped to his back; it's hard to forget), b.) his dad has the lantern and the knife for the sacrifice, and c.)... there's no lamb for the slaughter. 

After a three-day journey specifically to make a sacrifice, this is a pretty big "oops" moment. Uhhh, we forgot the main ingredient.

I used to be a breakfast cook at Rosedale Bible College where I attended before I went to Eastern Mennonite University. Every morning, I would be in the kitchen at 5:00 a.m., making breakfast for all students and staff. The problem with being in the kitchen at 5:00 a.m. when I didn't get to bed until 10:00 p.m. or later each night was the fact that my mind did interesting things with lack of sleep. Several fun breakfast stories came out of that time, but the one I'm using to make my point involved baked oatmeal.

The ingredients in most baked oatmeal recipes are a fairly short list. They each involve oatmeal (of course), and then brown sugar, eggs, vanilla, cinnamon, milk, salt, and a few other odds and ends. One early morning, in my sleep-deprived haze, I mixed up the required baked oatmeal and pushed the trays into the ovens. They smelled good, but when I pulled them out, something was wrong.

I'd forgotten the oatmeal. The essential thing. The obvious ingredient still sat, perfectly measured in the cups on the counter, resplendently uninvolved in the baking process.

Twenty years later, I still remember the sinking feeling when that realization dawned. There was quite a bit of good-natured teasing that resulted from the incident; I still hear about it today from certain individuals who shall remain nameless. 

Dad forgot the sacrifice! The essential ingredient is missing! He asks his father about it. "Dad, where is the lamb? You know, the one we were supposed to bring with us?"

Abraham answers with a heavily double-layered response. "God Himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son."

When I was little, I used to think that Abraham told a white lie to his son to keep him from panicking. Obviously, he knew what he was supposed to do, but Isaac wouldn't feel much better about the happening events, no matter how the information was offered to him. Abraham's response, though, does not reflect the whole story. There are so many layers present in these words he said.

Over the years, I've dug deeper into Abraham's response, and I realize now what an incredible faith it displayed. Abraham doesn't doubt the Lord's covenant promise. He knows God will use Isaac to keep His word. He knows it could happen with a replacement lamb, or... he knows God could bring about the fulfillment through Isaac's resurrection. Either way, he fully intends to obey the Lord, and he fully believes that God will still fulfill His promise.

The depth of his faith is nearly overwhelming here. The battle surrounding his heart has already been won; he may have resisted at one point, but here, he is determined. He sinks through the quagmire, the flotsam, the currents of the storm raging around him, and he settles his anchor deep into the Rock, entrenching it, turning the course of his entire existence, the whole direction of his thoughts... to fight the doubts that confront him.

(See, I did have a point. Sometimes, it's hard to see, but I generally get there before many years pass.) ;)

The sacrifice takes place. When they get to the top of the mountain, Abraham builds an altar. Verse 9 says: "He bound his son Isaac..." Five simple words to wrap up a storm of emotion. Was Isaac terrified? Yes, I absolutely believe he was. Was Abraham heart-broken? I have no doubt of it. 

Faith does not void feeling. Faith prevails over feeling.

I think both Abraham and Isaac are crying. Sobbing, even. I think Abraham feels as though he is wrestling his own heart onto that altar in preparation for sacrifice. And in all the ways that count, that's exactly what he is doing.

He is offering his heart to the Lord, stripped of any agency he may have imbued in it, and says, "God, here I am." Here. I. am. Utterly defenseless. Utterly submitted.

In that act, that's when God shows up, stops the whole process. "Abraham! Abraham!" Twice. Gets his attention. "Do not lay a hand on the boy. Do not do anything to him. Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld from me your son, your only son."

Abraham's absolute, complete, sacrificial obedience and faith is rewarded with life and substitutionary sacrifice. A lamb appears in the thicket, given by God himself, given to take Isaac's place on the altar. 

And God says: "I swear by Myself..." because there is nothing higher to swear by. Nothing else with more surety than God Himself. "I swear by Myself..." to fulfill His covenant with Abraham. Another reassurance.

And the lamb is sacrificed, its blood shed in Isaac's place. What a perfect picture of the true Lamb of God that comes into the world, takes our place, carries our guilt, dies instead of us, rips the veil of the temple that closes off the Holy of holies, the place where God Himself has dwelt, and opens a direct path to the Father.

I. can't. get. over. it. What else could I do but spend eternity praising the One who made this possible?

Hebrews 6 reiterates this scene, and then reminds us of the oath He gave Abraham: "I swear by Myself." "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 (1. -God's original promise, and 2. - God's oath confirming that promise) 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 (that curtain that separated the Holy of holies from the rest of the temple), where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf. He has become a High Priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek (the king-priest who ruled his people and also made atonement for his people, who met with Abraham after his rescue of Lot)" (Hebrews 6:17-20). 

Abraham has hope as an anchor for his soul. He doesn't know the circumstantial effects of his obedience; he simply knows that his faith is rooted in the One who has called him, and he settles deeply into the Rock, entrenching himself. The currents can't sway him. The flotsam can't distract him. The enemy can't pursue him anymore, because he turns and fights...

And wins. He conquers any excuses he might have had to offer, and he lays his heart directly before the Lord.

And the Lord honors him for that.

Where. is. our. hope? In uncharted, current-filled waters, which I think we can all agree we're navigating in the wider picture of national and international events, where is our hope? 

Let's keep it anchored in the Rock.