Anchored: Finding Stability in God's Word

Anchored. Fastened securely. Fixed firmly. Held steady. Rooted. Established. Not drifting.

That is my word for 2026.

More than 160 days into the year now, I have noticed that word more than I ever had in the past. Maybe it's like when you buy a new car and suddenly all you see on the road are other cars that are the same make, model, and even color as the car you just bought. Once your attention has been drawn to something, you begin to see it everywhere.

I usually pray at the end of each year that God would give me a word for the next year. It's not a word I choose for myself—or even a word I necessarily want to aspire to—but one that I know God will unfold and reveal as the year wears on. I don't think of it as a resolution. Rather, it is a year-long, one-word journey.

This year, I was late in hearing my one-word. But as I now reflect back, I think God had it ready for me far before November of 2025.

Those last two months of the year were rough. As I read back through my journal, I find that my entries from the beginning of 2026 revolved around two significant losses in our family's lives that occurred in those final months of the year. Losses so hard that I think they derailed me a bit. Grief has a way of doing that. It likes to hang on, even when we are trying to move forward.

Looking back now, I realize that God knew what lay ahead, even when I didn't. Maybe that's why He whispered Anchored. Not because He was asking me to try harder or become stronger, but because He knew that in seasons when life feels unsettled, I would need to be reminded where my hope is anchored.

As I look back over these first months of 2026, I am realizing that God wasn't simply giving me a word for the year. He was inviting me on a journey of discovery. And what I am learning about living an anchored life has been both deeper and richer than I ever imagined.

For one thing, I have come to realize that anchors do more than keep ships from drifting too far off course during storms. While that is certainly true, I've discovered another aspect of anchoring. A sailor may set the anchor when the weather is calm—even boring—not because of the conditions above the surface, but because unseen undercurrents and tidal flows can slowly carry the boat away. The anchor keeps the vessel secure and prevents it from drifting unnoticed. An anchor doesn't only keep us from being swept away by difficult circumstances; it also provides stability in ordinary days. It gives us something fixed in a world that constantly shifts.

So much around us is always changing. News changes. Emotions change. Schedules change. Health changes. Relationships change. Even our own thoughts and feelings can fluctuate from one day to the next. Yet God's Word remains steadfast. As the psalmist declared, "Forever, O Lord, Your word is firmly fixed in the heavens" (Psalm 119:89). Isaiah echoes that same truth: "The grass withers, the flowers fade, but the word of our God remains forever" (Isaiah 40:8, CSB).

Over these months, I've become fascinated by something I discovered in behavioral science. Researchers speak of "anchor moments"—existing routines or habits that provide a natural place to attach a new behavior. Instead of relying solely on willpower, people create lasting change by connecting new practices to things they already do every day.

As I studied these ideas, I couldn't help but smile. God thought of this long before psychologists and researchers gave it a name.

Moses instructed God's people:

"These words that I am giving you today are to be in your heart. Repeat them to your children. Talk about them when you sit in your house and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up" Deuteronomy 6:6-7.

Sitting. Walking. Lying down. Rising up. Ordinary moments became opportunities to remember God's truth. God never intended His Word to be confined to Sunday mornings or occasional quiet times. He designed His truth to walk with us throughout the rhythms of our everyday life.

As I reflected on this, I realized that what I have called Word Walking all these years has been a form of anchoring. By attaching Scripture to the rhythm of walking, I have been creating regular opportunities to turn my thoughts toward Him. At first, I thought I was simply memorizing verses. Now I see that something deeper was happening. God was using repeated encounters with His Word to renew my mind and shape my heart.

Romans 12:2 reminds us not to be conformed to this world, but to be transformed by the renewing of our minds. In my experience, that renewal rarely happens in dramatic moments. More often, it happens through repeated encounters with truth—step by step, verse by verse, day by day.

One of the greatest gifts of these past six months has been discovering that when my mind is anchored in Scripture, I am less easily tossed around. Not because life has become easier or because all my questions have been answered, but because I know where to turn. When anxiety rises, His promises anchor me. When disappointment comes, His character anchors me. When grief visits, His presence anchors me. When uncertainty clouds the future, His faithfulness anchors me.

Hebrews 6:19 tells us, "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure." Notice that Scripture doesn't say we have an anchor for our circumstances. We have an anchor for our souls. Storms may still rage and questions may still linger, but our souls can remain secure because they are fastened to an unchanging Savior.

The interesting thing about anchors is that they are rarely seen. They do their work beneath the surface. Most people notice the boat, but few think about what is holding it steady.

Perhaps that is true of our walk with Christ.  The quiet habits of prayer, Scripture meditation, and returning again and again to God's truth may not appear impressive. They are largely unseen. But over time, they become the very things that keep us from drifting.

I think my greatest discovery so far this year has been this: being anchored isn't about perfection; it's about returning. Returning to God's Word. Returning to prayer. Returning to Truth. Returning to the One who never changes.

Six months into 2026, I can tell you this: being anchored doesn't mean life becomes easier, but it does mean I don't have to drift. It means I have a place to return when emotions are loud, when answers are few, and when the world around me feels unstable. It means I can walk forward with confidence—not because I know what lies ahead, but because I know the One to whom I am anchored.

Looking back, I realize that God was preparing me for more than a year with a meaningful word. He was inviting me into a deeper way of living—one where His Word is not merely something I read, but the place where I remain.

More than 160 days into this year, I am convinced that God gave me the word I needed long before I understood why I would need it. And as the months continue to unfold, I suspect I've only just begun to discover the beauty of living anchored.

Perhaps that is why the words of an old hymn still resonate with me all these years later: 

We have an anchor that keeps the soul, 

Steadfast and sure while the billows roll. 

Anchored in Him,