There’s a kind of tired that’s deeper than physical.
It’s when your emotions have been pulled thin.
When hope feels like it’s slipping.
When life feels unstable, and your soul feels like it’s drifting in too many directions.
I’ve been there.
Honestly, I’m walking that line right now.
But the Word led me to something that shook me and settled me all at once:
“Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and stedfast, and which entereth into that within the veil.”
Hebrews 6:19 KJV
Sis… that verse changed everything for me.
Hope is not a feeling. It’s an anchor.
It’s not some fragile thing that floats when the wind is calm. Biblical hope is strong. It’s weighty. It digs deep into the unseen places where God dwells, and it keeps your soul from drifting when everything around you feels uncertain.
The Greek word for anchor: ῥάβδος (rhabdos) paints a picture of something fixed, holding firm under pressure.
But here’s what stunned me:
This anchor isn’t thrown down into the sea.
It’s thrown into the Holy of Holies.
It goes beyond the veil, into the place where only the High Priest could enter. And now Jesus, our High Priest, is already there and He’s holding the other end of our hope.
Your soul may feel like it’s sinking… but your hope is secure.
Your emotions might waver.
You might cry, question, and wrestle with God.
But you are not drifting into nothingness.
You are anchored in His presence.
That means:
You’re not holding yourself together, He is.
You’re not trying to float through the storm,
you’re tethered to the throne.
You’re not wandering, you’re being held.
What’s on the other side of the veil?
It’s not just promise.
It’s not just answers.
It’s Jesus.
Our Forerunner.
Our Intercessor.
The One who entered in before us, and now sits at the right hand of God, and holds our hope in a place that can’t be shaken, even when everything else is.
Our hope is anchored behind the veil, in the very presence of God, where it cannot be stolen, shaken, or stripped.
Our hope is in the safest place it could ever be.
A place that doesn’t allow just anybody to enter.
A place that doesn’t give access to just anyone.
Only the blood of Jesus grants entrance, and He’s already gone in on our behalf.
So if you’re feeling lost today, remember this:
You don’t need to feel strong to be anchored.
You don’t need to see progress to know you’re secure.
You don’t have to pretend you’re okay.
Just remember,
Your hope is not in the moment… it’s in the Master.
And He is seated beyond the veil, holding you steady through it all.
From My Heart to Yours.
I know what it feels like to be overwhelmed and exhausted.
To feel like you’ve done everything according to your obedience and still ended up in a storm, that seems relentless.
To cry in secret because you’re trying to keep it together for everyone else.
To whisper prayers that feel like they bounce back in silence.
But listen, you are not forgotten.
You are not adrift.
You are anchored.
And your Anchor lives behind the veil, where heaven’s glory holds you in place until the promise unfolds.
Keep holding on, sis.
Or better yet, let Him hold you.
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