March 17th, 2026

Dear Friends,

There’s nothing as useless as an anchor that doesn’t hold.

Three glorious days in Maui were filled with my first ever snorkelling experiences, a whale watching cruise where I saw a humpback whale breach the water almost completely, a Luau with all its food and pageantry, and, of course, palm trees swaying in the tropical breezes, humidity and mid 20’s weather morning and night. Then the rain came. Then the wind blew in biblical proportions.

Swaying palm fronds morphed into flags flapping in the gale. Poolside patio loungers became pool toys as the wind lifted them into the water. Crystal clear snorkelling waters were roiling cauldrons the colour of ochre as massive waves pounded the once-placid beaches. Low lying golf course fairways became lakes. Massive trees collapsed, their roots no match for the driving wind. In several places, the coastal highway was reduced to one lane because of the flooding. And we didn’t even get the worst of the storm. In Kehului, flights were grounded, sinkholes formed because of the flooding, and some places had power outages of more than 12 hours.

We were fine, sitting on a balcony overlooking said pool and golf course, sipping a cold beverage, reading a good book, marvelling at the power of God in nature. However, on one subsequent drive along the coast, I was left with a lasting image. Where, previously, on calm days, several large sailboats bobbed at anchor in a windy cove, now only one still lay at anchor. One owner had the foresight to get his boat out of the water prior to the storm. It sat, trailered, in a parking lot. But two other massive boats lay on their side on the rocky shore. The anchors that held them gave way in the storm. The waves did their work. The result was both devastating and predictable.

What is it that anchors your life? Where does your hope actually lie? Is it secure? Will it stand the severe storms of life that will inevitably come your way? How do you know? 

This is no hypothetical concept to me. I’ve seen the damage that storms can wreak, both literally and metaphorically. I’ve lived long enough to see childish faith collapse in the face of serious storms. Lent is about anchor management and maintenance. Is my anchor of faith grabbing something so solid that it can weather any storm? Is the line that connects it to me just as secure?

Storms will inevitably disrupt your “paradise.” That is certain. But it is equally certain that if you have checked and maintained your anchor, it will hold. Do the necessary work, now — before the storm hits. You will never be sorry.

“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 set before 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 our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf. He has become a high priest forever, in the order of Melchizedek.” (Hebrews 6:18-20)

Blessings!

Doug