Anvils
We know them.
All too well.
Heavy, dark, hard and seemingly ever-present.
So many Christians, so many anvils. We wear them around our necks and they represent the worst in us.
What is your spiritual anvil?
-The lust that you continually revisit?
-The lie you continually tell?
-The deceit you continually live?
-The pornography you continue to view?
-The doubt you continue to allow shelter in your heart?
-The alcohol that you just cannot walk-away from for the last time?
-The affair that has entwined your soul so completely, you cannot see a way out?
Every Christian from century one until now has dealt with the anvil. Some plurally, others with just one – but all with them.
The spiritual anvil is that sin…that propensity that you try but just continue to fall into…that you just cannot rid yourself of…that you carry around your neck.
Weighing you down.
Slowing your progress.
Continually reminding you of your own failings.
Satan has this knack of never letting us forget – and in so doing reminding us of how weak we can be. For most Christians, it’s not murder or “traumatic-massive” sin that gets us. It is more subtle than that. It’s the lie told in the heat of the moment, or the glance that lingers too long, or the step from a casual drink to drunkenness that gets us.
At that point, the anvil creates the “look.”
You know the “look.” That look of “It’s over.” It’s the look of the spouse who just cannot give it another day. The look of a parent who has had all they can stand. It is the look of one who just cannot see any reason to press on. Peter himself provided one of those looks when Jesus put just one sentence to him.
The scene is so Galilee. Peter and crew have fished all night and caught nothing. Jesus tells him to cast his nets.
The look.
The look that says “we’ve done this all night and caught nothing.” The look of “Seriously?? Again?” The look of “It won’t do any good, but I’d rather do it than argue.” Most of us know the end of that story – a net-bursting catch of fish.
Fast-forward to a fire in a courtyard on a chilly night. Peter, warming himself by the fire while the creator-son endures a sham-trial. Three times he is asked, and three times he denies. Each time, another anvil. Another weight to be carried. Another load of guilt to be borne.
And that third time…the eqivalent of “No, dammit! I don’t know him!” A crow in the distance, and a look from the saviour. At that point, the weight of the anvils break Peter’s back. The tears come, and the weight is overbearing.
If we hit the track-forward button on the story to the next chapter, we see Peter retreat to what he has known. Again, a lake. Again, no catch. Then a voice from the shore: “have you caught anything?” Peter probably stifles several answers and simply gives up a “no.” Then the voice: “put your nets down on the right side of the boat.” How long did it take Peter for the stem cells to connect? Was it the difference in sound? Was it the creak of the nets? Was it the weight of the catch? Exactly how long did it take for him to realize that the one he denied with curses made an appointment to be on that shore at that moment to speak those words to him?
Scripture says Peter put his clothes on and then jumped into the water and swam straight to Jesus. The boat followed, but for one quick moment the elation of presence with the Messiah outweighed the anvils.
And how fitting. Jesus was sitting near a fire – just like the one Peter was near when he denied the Christ.
The key to unlocking the chains that bind the anchors around our necks is to realize that we must meet Jesus at the point of our failures. I think it is no coincidence that Jesus re-created a fishy miracle and questioned Peter’s loyalty next to a fire. I also think that it is in the heart of failure where we learn that we cannot bear the weight of the anvils alone. Maybe that is why he used phrases like “cast your burdens on me,” or ” my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
If you do not turn to Jesus at the point of failure, you will carry the anvils. Eventually, they get hard to hide and become as much a part of us as an unsightly mole we continually try to cover. Jesus is the savior that came to release us from those burdens – and it is high time Christians learned to look to him in our failures rather than trying to fix them ourselves. I, for one, am ready to release my anvils. How about you?
-MH
