On my drive home from work each day, I pass by a sailboat anchored in the bay. It’s been there for some time—unchanging, unmoved by the winds or tides. And lately, that sailboat has felt a lot like me. While things in my life may not seem to be moving forward at the pace I expected, I’m still anchored. Not to outcomes. Not to ease. But to Christ.
This season I’m in may not be full of motion, but it’s full of meaning.
Just like that sailboat, I’m still tethered—firm in my faith, steady in my calling. I’ve chosen purpose over comfort, conviction over convenience. And let me tell you, that anchor is holding strong in the middle of the storm. Because what we anchor ourselves to will carry us through the pressing—through the crushing of Gethsemane, through the fire of affliction, through the uncertainty of what’s next.
There have been seasons in my life when I prayed for peace, but pressure showed up instead. I longed for comfort, but crushing came. I wanted smooth sailing, and the winds picked up. I used to view those moments as punishment. But now, I know the truth: God doesn’t call us to comfort—He calls us to purpose. And purpose often comes wrapped in pressure.
Growth Doesn’t Happen in the Shallow End
We live in a culture that idolizes ease. We’re told to pursue convenience, avoid pain, and run from anything that stretches us. But think back: the seasons you grew the most were never the easiest ones. They were the painful ones, the pressing ones, the ones where you didn’t know if you’d make it through—but somehow, by God’s grace, you did.
The crushing seasons are not designed to destroy you. They’re designed to develop you.
The Garden of Crushing
Jesus knew what crushing felt like. On the night He was betrayed, He prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane—a place literally named for its oil press, where olives were crushed to extract their finest oil. Under the agony of anticipation, Jesus cried out, “Father, if You are willing, take this cup from Me; yet not My will, but Yours be done” (Luke 22:42).
That moment of crushing produced salvation for all humanity. And if the Son of God had to endure Gethsemane to fulfill His calling, why would we expect our own journeys to be free from pressure?
The Potter’s Hands
Think of the potter with the clay. Before it can be molded, the clay must be kneaded, pounded, and stretched to remove hidden air pockets—flaws that, if left alone, would cause the vessel to explode in the fire. The potter’s hands aren’t cruel; they’re careful. He sees what the clay can become.
God does the same with us.
The pressure you’re feeling isn’t punishment—it’s preparation. He’s kneading out fear, insecurity, and pride. He’s shaping you into a vessel strong enough to carry His glory.
Anchored in Calling
That sailboat I see? It hasn’t moved, but it hasn’t drifted either. Its anchor holds it steady. That’s how I feel—still in the waiting, still in the pressing, but unmoved in my purpose. I’ve chosen calling over comfort. I’ve learned that being anchored doesn’t mean you’re stuck—it means you’re steady.
Maybe you feel like you’re not going anywhere. But friend, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be—planted, pressed, and prepared.
The Setback Is a Setup
Joseph’s story proves this truth. Betrayed, sold, imprisoned—he endured crushing on every level. But each setback was actually a setup for the palace. God was forming his character, pulling out the pride, teaching him to lead with integrity and compassion.
Your crushing is producing character.
Your pause is producing perspective.
Your setback is producing strength.
Don’t Fight the Fire—Trust the Potter
It’s tempting to pray for the fire to stop. But sometimes the more powerful prayer is: “Lord, don’t take me out of the fire—just stay in it with me.”
And He does.
There is another in the fire, standing next to you. Just as He was with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, He is with you. He is refining, not forsaking. He is molding, not punishing. He’s making you into a vessel that won’t shatter under pressure—but shine with purpose.
Final Thought
You may not feel like you’re moving. But are you anchored? Because if you’re anchored to Christ, you are exactly where you need to be. The winds may blow. The waves may rise. But your anchor will hold.
Don’t give up in the pressing. Don’t walk away in the crushing. Comfort never called you—God did.
Prayer:
Father, thank You that I’m not alone in the fire. Thank You for anchoring me in Your Word, Your truth, and Your presence. Even when life feels like it’s standing still, I know You are working behind the scenes—forming me, strengthening me, preparing me. Help me to embrace the pressure, to welcome the process, and to trust Your hands. I choose calling over comfort, purpose over ease, and faith over fear. You are the Master Potter, and I surrender to Your shaping. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Life-Giving Words of Hope & Encouragement 
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