Survivor
Finding out you survived an abortion is not something you dream up or plan. It’s the kind of news that comes crashing into your life. Nothing can prepare your heart for realizing you were “that” unwanted, unplanned, and rejected.
Imagine surviving a “medical procedure” meant to end your life—on purpose. There’s no questioning the intent of the procedure and yet, somehow, you miraculously survive when 100% of the odds were against you. Imagine coming to the realization that you live in a society that doesn’t want you to exist, because your mere existence defeats their harmful narrative, and so they ignore you and write you off as crazy and self-serving. Unjustly, you are silenced for something you didn’t ask for. Imagine living this new reality and trying to navigate it in a culture that not only denies your existence and humanity, but also has zero resources for you and the injustice that happened to you.
Unfortunately, that’s the reality I live in every day. In those early years, no one asked if I was okay. Though I had survived, abortion had irrevocably scarred my life not only by taking the life of my twin but also by forever altering my very identity. Still, there was no support group for someone like me, an abortion survivor. I was navigating my new reality and the consequences of the injustice that happened to me all while sharing my life story in the spotlight and on stages across the country.
While navigating my new life as an abortion survivor, I met my (now) husband, and we became pregnant before we were married. We shared the news with our families and our closest friends. I remember thinking, This must be what my birth mother felt like—embarrassed and unsure of what to do. It didn’t take long to realize that what I had was what she had so desperately been searching for and needing in the moment she found out she was pregnant with me. When I shared the news of my pregnancy with my parents and close friends, I was met with reassurance and support, while my birth mother had been met with anger and told she had one choice: abortion.
While I heard the words, “God’s not done writing your story,” “Your pregnancy is not a sin but a blessing,” and “Be proud of the life inside you that God has planned uniquely and wonderfully,” my birth mother had heard, “You are not old enough or ready to be a mother,” “You are having this abortion whether you like it or not,” and “You are going to shut up about this and no one will ever know.”
In a woman’s moment of desperation, she looks to the people in her life. How they respond will determine how she responds. The reassurance from the closest people in my life as I faced my “unplanned pregnancy” is the reason I never thought of my daughter as an unplanned pregnancy. Instead, she was a blessing, even if it felt unexpected. I knew she was not unplanned by God.
During my pregnancy, I had two people on my mind often: my mom and my birth mom. Pregnancy had been a complicated thing for the women in my family and now it was complicated for me, too. Was this a new avenue God had given me that would help me relate to women like my mom and my birth mom?
I thought of the moments in which my mom had cried out to God, asking Him for a child. She didn’t know it then, but God was going to bless her with a miracle child. I empathized with her longing to have a child as I experienced the growth of my daughter in my womb. I tried to include her in my pregnancy so that she could experience some of what her heart had longed for: the ultrasounds, kicks, joys, and surprises that come with having children naturally. I wanted those things for her even though I knew she wouldn’t trade our family or our adoption for the world. It was a special season as we shared in all the moments of my pregnancy, and it made me appreciate her even more. She was the mother God knew I needed, and she made me the most wanted child imaginable without even knowing I had begun my life as an unwanted child. When God hand-picked me from my birth mother’s womb after I escaped death’s grip through the abortion instruments intended to end my life, He hand-picked her for me. Her longing would subside, but He was only beginning to write our incredible story.
My experience also led me to think about the ways my birth mother had been neglected during her pregnancy. She hadn’t been supported, given a choice, or even accompanied by her parents when she delivered me. The choice for abortion and then adoption had been made on her behalf, and her heart struggled to take it all in. I appreciated the support I had from the closest people in my life and recognized the gift I had in my parents as I navigated my pregnancy. My heart broke for Tonya a little more as I realized that I was experiencing a pregnancy and a support system my birth mother hadn’t even had a chance to consider.
As I empathized with and related to the experiences of my mother and my birth mother, my eyes were opened to the incredible miracle and gift that was in my womb. I didn’t deserve it, but God had given me another paragraph in the story he was writing—the birth and the life of my precious daughter Sadie-June. My world changed the day she was born and I held her for the first time. Her life is a testament that God will make himself known in unexpected and miraculous ways. He saved my life so that Sadie-June could be born and so that the hope we have in Him could become abundantly clear: He wants to bring good out of our mess. The birth of my daughter empowered me to trust that I can follow wherever He leads in my life and on this journey of sharing the truth about abortion—no matter how scary, unexpected, or uncertain it may feel.
Claire Culwell is an author, host of the “Called To Be Bold” podcast, and international speaker, represented by the Ambassador Speakers Bureau. She has been featured on Fox News, Focus on the Family, and in many other news outlets. She lives with her husband and their four children in Austin, Texas, where she serves on the communications and public policy committee for the Texas Alliance For Life.
You can read her book, Survivor, here!
To the Girl in a Season of Change
As we spend time this month speaking and reflecting on sisterhood, I have been really trying hard to reflect on what sisterhood truly is and looks like. Sisterhood is purely about intentionality, vulnerability, and selflessness.
I grew up in a large family with three brothers and two sisters, making me the middle sister. While there are pros and cons to growing up with both an older and younger sister, one thing I have loved more than anything is the form of discipleship that we get to experience. For me I have loved getting to have an older sister who has walked a road ahead of me to counsel me and that I can learn from. I have also loved getting to have a younger sister who is looking up to me to see how I live my life, not putting pressure on me, but keeping me accountable for the way I live my life because I see that I am setting an example. I just want to take a second to be an older sister for the girl who feels lost in transition and needs to know she is not alone…
Transition can be hard. Hard to explain, hard to process. I graduated college this May, but finished my last semester online when moving to work for Live Original. I transitioned way earlier than I had ever planned. A mixture of unexpected goodbyes, but also the overwhelming excitement for working a dream job. I have loved getting to be a part of this community with such encouraging girls who lead me to Christ. While I truly have enjoyed my time the last few months on this new adventure, it has not been easy. I went from being the president of a social club surrounded by a great community, to feeling like a freshman again having to rebuild a community from the ground up. I was new and I REALLY don’t like being new. I moved away from my hometown where all my family live and missed out on many family moments not being home. On top of it all I was working on finishing school and balancing being mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted. BUT I can confidently say that despite everything I felt in the beginning, it has been good and the Lord is such a faithful, steadfast, Father through all the changing and growing.
I realize how I spent 3 full years of college setting up my perfect plan for my perfect life only for the Lord to drastically change my heart and open up doors that called me to a life that is almost unrecognizable. MY plan was not to say yes to a job & then move to Louisiana. MY plan was not to work for a ministry, and MY plan was for sure not to leave campus early to finish school online.
Looking back it wasn’t until I stepped outside of MY plan and looked at where the Lord was leading me that I recognized HIS plan was met with nothing but peace, love, growth, and yes uncomfortable moments, but also moments that I have been able to recognize His faithfulness like never before.
So instead of resenting the time and plan that was “taken from me,” I get to rejoice about the most influential season that was college. I thank Jesus for the conversations had, memories made, tears shed, and hard decisions made.
When I am doubting where the Lord has me I have learned to dive into scripture to flood my heart and mind with truth. These are only a few scriptures that I have written on my heart these last few months that allow me to put this season into perspective.
“Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Hebrews 12:2)
“If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matthew 6: 30-34)
“’For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,’” declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:8-9)
“Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love the Lord your neighbor as yourself.’” (Matthew 22:37-38)
I’m thankful and in awe of a God who answers prayers, changes hearts (specifically mine), and doesn’t waiver or flee in confusing times. And while, yes, the current goodbyes are hard; the renewing and healing of my heart is all because of Jesus.
To the girl who is in a season of change: you are not alone, embrace the in between, run to the Father, and find confidence in the Gospel because there is so much beauty to be found.
Rachel Walle is a part of Team LO and just graduated from Harding University with a Bachelors in Integrated Marketing Communication. She is originally from Dallas TX, but recently moved to Louisiana to work for Team LO and lead the media team out at camp Ch-Yo-Ca! She loves sitting and having intentional conversations (preferably with coffee in hand), spontaneous road trip & adventures with close friends, and capturing memories with her camera through video or photography.
Follow Rachel on Instagram @rachel_reneah
Identity of a Daughter
Note from Team LO: We are SO excited to bring you this month’s post from our LO sister member, Samantha Arp! If you want to be a part of this incredible community, you can join today and your your first week FREE! Find out more about this online sisterhood HERE. And for more info about what LO sister is all about, visit our Instagram Page!
Now, enjoy today’s post from Samantha 🙂
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“Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. 4 Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.
(1 Peter 3:3-6)
I think we need to talk about it.
These verses are not popular, especially today in a world where people are jumping on every opportunity to refute the Bible. In situations where Scripture does not easily align with what we see around us (which, by the way, is how it should be) Christians are accused of being outdated, close minded, or prejudiced. Yes, the Bible was written a long time ago to a radically different cultural atmosphere; but the true Author knew exactly who His audience would be. Passages like this are no accident.
If we love God and want to honor Him, then this is how He says to do it. Let’s not run from it or ignore it, but press into the controversy and wrestle with it as an opportunity to better understand the character of God.
Let’s understand a few things first, which are universally true when tackling hard truths in Scripture. One, the character of God is consistent. He does not change His mind like we do. His love and His mercy and His holiness hold as true today as they did two thousand years ago, and He will continue when everything else fades away. God did not decide on this day that He was going to change His nature. Two, God is very clearly an advocate and defender of women. One needs to look no further than the life of Jesus to understand that He was the loudest champion of women in a time period when they were regarded as little more than property. Never in Jesus’ life did He belittle, devalue, or silence a woman; rather, He stood in their defense, pleaded their cause, and stood in the gap between them and men who overlooked their worth. And, as stated before, that reality did not change for these verses.
If this is true, then why is Jesus (through Peter) concerned with what you wear? This topic can generate a lot of heated conversation with Christians and non-Christians which is a very good thing. Let’s take a look.
In the beginning, when men and women were cursed by sin (as in, they chose sin over God on purpose) the way that sin affected them was different. For men, sin cursed their labor; everything that they would accomplish or receive in life would be received through work, and it would be a struggle. Therefore, men have to be careful that their worth does not come from what they accomplish, because that is how sin fell on men. Women were different, however. This is not to say that women don’t feel the weight of performance too (because that is a huge temptation for many, including me) but simply that sin would affect them in another area. For women, sin would pervert relationships. According to Genesis 3, God warns us that women are tempted to see their value in how others choose to see them and that this would be a constant balance. And as much as it is always a danger to generalize a large group of people, it is very clear in today’s world that women still deal with this.
So, in light of that, what point is Jesus making in this passage?
As a woman, we crave being valued. But sometimes we settle instead for being noticed. If we cannot get their value by who we are, we can usually get their attention by how we look.
Is this a command meant to restrict us? Absolutely not. I see nowhere in Scripture that Christ is concerned with exactly how much of your skin is showing or how expensive your clothes are. Rather, this is a lesson on identity.
You will be tempted to believe that the only way anyone will value you is to make sure people think you are beautiful. You will be told lies that your height, weight, hair texture, shape of your eyes or language you speak determines your worth. You will be told that your past, your sexual experience or lack thereof, the money you spend on clothing, or the amount of people who like you have a say on your value. Those are simply lies.
You are so much more than a body to be noticed. You are a soul to be valued. Some look to the body because that is their only hope, as it is when you do not know Him- but you are so much more than that. The truth is, you have eternity embedded in you. If you are in Christ, long after all of those things fade, the truly beautiful part of you will be rejoicing, healed and whole and completely free in the presence of true beauty, who is Christ.
Daughter of God, to look at only your outward beauty would be missing the best part. Stop letting yourself be treated like the part of you that fades. Be more than a body. Be more than a face. Be His instead.
“Those who look to Him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed” Psalm 34:5
The Darkness May Always Be There…
God, are you there? Why can’t I be different? Why won’t you fix me? I know you can.
For years, the secret questions carved out my insides.
The pain of my lifelong battle with depression was excruciating. Sometimes it filled me with searing shame over my struggles with self-harm and suicidal thoughts. Other times, I was overwhelmed with a dense fog of numbness. In the midst of it all, I felt so alone as I wrestled with the reality that I couldn’t just be the joyful Christian I believed I should be.
The questions ached inside of me, but there was a deeper story I believed underneath them: God doesn’t want this mess and neither does anyone else. And deeper still was the belief that if I didn’t someday get better, I wasn’t enough. If I didn’t someday overcome, I wasn’t worthy.
I knew God loved me, but did he really want me, brokenness and all? What if there was a time limit on his grace and the clock was running out? What if he got tired of me dealing with these same struggles?
I never voiced this fear, but it stalked me constantly.
Sometimes, well-intentioned Christians tried to encourage me, but their words often just made it worse. I’d been told that depression is selfish, that I just needed to serve others, focus on Jesus, and choose joy.
So I tried everything I could imagine to push through, hold myself together, and make myself good enough.
I served at church and in the community. I joined the worship team, went on mission trips, and distributed food to hungry people in our city. I read my Bible, declaring verses over myself like I’d been taught. I eventually became a youth pastor and worked with a nonprofit mentoring church leaders. I tried desperately to “choose joy” and snap out of it, but I couldn’t figure it out.
I’d tried so hard, but I just kept failing. Countless begging prayers with all the faith I could muster hadn’t changed the ache inside. Years of spending every free moment in ministry, serving without rest, hadn’t filled the gaping void.
One day, I was running ministry errands, alone in my car, and those questions once again bubbled to the surface, bringing with them bone-rattling anxiety.
God, what if I never get better? How can I keep going like this? Who could ever want me?
On the edge of despair, I heard a gentle whisper in my heart: The darkness may always be there, but I will always be there in the darkness.
Tears filled my eyes and my mouth dropped open. The sudden rush of hope was bittersweet and shocking, an unexpected balm for that old ache. I felt my rattling pulse slow as I realized what this whisper meant:
God isn’t disappointed in me for struggling with mental illness. There’s no countdown clock on grace, no limit on his love. He’s not tapping his foot and looking at his watch, impatient for me to get it together. He sits with me in the confusing, aching darkness.
Though the first part of that whisper might have sounded discouraging to some, acknowledging that the darkness might always be there felt like a breath of fresh air. I didn’t have to try so hard to pretend I wasn’t struggling. It was okay to let go of denial and learn to live with my diagnosis for the long term.
But the second half of that whisper left me undone. I felt the foundations rearranging in my soul as I drew a deep breath. I will always be there in the darkness. Those words released so much guilt and fear. They pledged that I’m not so profoundly screwed up that the God of the universe would ever back away. He isn’t afraid of my depression. He doesn’t shrink from the darkness. And if he can accept me like this for the rest of my days on earth, I can learn to accept myself too.
Scripture is full of people accepting difficult circumstances and finding God right by their sides. One famous example is Paul’s “thorn in the flesh.” We don’t know what the struggle was, but we know it was painful and he asked for God to free him from it. Here’s what Paul had to say about it in 2 Corinthians 12:8–10 (NLT):
‘Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong.’
In the midst of Paul’s desperate pleas to be free of his pain and weakness, he heard the gentle voice of God remind him, “My grace is all you need.” But Paul wasn’t the only one who had to accept painful circumstances he would have preferred to avoid.
Even Jesus, on the night before his crucifixion, prayed to avoid the crushing ordeal before him. He knew he faced betrayal by dear friends and horrific torture. Scripture is breathtakingly clear that Jesus, our perfect savior, didn’t want to go through with it.
In Luke 22:42, Jesus prayed, “Father, if you are willing, please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.” (NLT). Though he asked for a way out several times, he ultimately accepted that he was about to walk through the worst pain he would ever experience, simply depending on the grace of his Father to carry him through.
The examples of Paul and Jesus have helped me to accept the truth of that whisper I heard in my car. Knowing that both an important hero of the faith and our sinless savior had to depend on God through crushing circumstances reminds me that I can do this, too.
The beautiful, unexpected thing about accepting that depression may always be part of my life is that I’ve learned to take better care of myself. It’s also helped me to take advantage of the good resources God has provided us in the form of medicine and therapy. And along the way, I’ve discovered something I never expected: that it’s possible to live a beautiful, fulfilling, and even joyful life in the midst of depression. His grace really is enough.
Of course, it’s not always easy to walk in that acceptance. If Jesus showed up at my door, offering miraculous healing, I’d take him up on it in a heartbeat. Who wouldn’t? I’d be thrilled to never miss another social event because of a panic attack, never have another thought about hurting myself, never feel the ache that makes it so hard to breathe sometimes.
Like Jesus, there have been many times I’ve longed for this cup to pass from me. But I’ve learned to trust that God will be with me, no matter how hard and dark it seems. And, like Paul, I’ve seen God’s strength demonstrated in my brokenness and weakness.
I don’t understand why some people are healed and others aren’t. I wish I could offer you answers, sweet friend. But in the furnace of mental illness, I’ve discovered that God is still good. He is present and kind, even when our hearts ache and burn.
Even if we live with painful circumstances for the rest of our lives, God refuses to bail on us. He will walk with us through our bad days and overwhelming moments. You aren’t alone, my friend. Even if the darkness will always be there, God will always be with you in the dark.
Sarah J. Robinson once believed her lifelong battle with depression made her a bad Christian. Now she’s an author and speaker who helps others discover that mental illness doesn’t disqualify them from living rich, beautiful lives in Christ. Drawing from a decade of ministry experience and the mental health field, Sarah helps readers fight for wholeness and cultivate joy. She lives in Nashville with her husband. Read Sarah’s book, I Love Jesus, But I Want to Die: Finding Hope in the Darkness Of Depression.
Follow Sarah on Instagram @sarahjrbnsn
It’s Not That Things Aren’t Scary
Hey friends! So excited for the launch of the newest workshop in LO sister, Renew Your Mind. This workshop dives into different areas of mental health such as anxiety, depression, fear, and doubt. If you want to be a part, join here! I hope you enjoy this excerpt from part 1 of the workshop!
Let me take you back to a few experiences that will show you what a fearful person I used to be.
As a child and young teenager (and, okay, even older than that), I was terrified of storms. I’m not sure why, but thunder, lightning, high winds, tornado warnings—all those things made me shake inside. Looking back now, the fear seems totally unreasonable, and I’m not sure where it came from. Maybe I was afraid of tornadoes because, unlike other girls my age who watched Nickelodeon or the Disney Channel, for some reason, I watched the Weather Channel—a lot. I was remarkably educated about floods, droughts, hurricanes, and blizzards. I knew about people being rescued from their rooftops and losing power for days. I’m aware that most children aren’t fascinated by weather events, but I was unusually interested in what can happen in the natural world and how powerful it can be. I just wasn’t interested enough to want to live through a tornado. But I did—kind of, or at least from a distance.
I once saw a tornado from my seat in the car while my family drove from our home in Louisiana to a Texas Rangers baseball game. The sheer force of it captured my attention and terrified me. I can still see the image of the funnel cloud in my mind. But I can also see a mental picture of my cousin, Reed, undoubtedly the toughest and least fearful of the Robertson grandchildren, freaking out over the tornado. This guy, who was never afraid of anything and always rushing into things that seemed dangerous, started screaming as loud as he could and even threw his phone to the back of the car!
That episode with the tornado stands out as one of the most frightening events of my childhood because it felt so threatening to me, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. It was completely out of my control!
I didn’t know then that navigating situations we have no control over is a necessary step toward breaking free from fear. That’s one thing about God; He’s the one in control, not you or me. The tornado incident drove home for me the whole idea that I am not in control of anything. It was so much bigger, so much more forceful, so much more frightening than any experience I had ever had. After watching it with my family that day, I didn’t want to travel anywhere unless I knew what kinds of scary things could happen. Seriously, before I went on a trip, I researched the most common natural disasters in the state where I was going.
It didn’t take long for me to learn what was likely to happen in almost every state in America. Want to know where tornadoes strike most often? Just ask me. Interested in the states where wildfires happen most? I can tell you that. Want to know the places most vulnerable to floods or earthquakes? I still remember them. Oh, and as a bonus, if you’d like to know the details of hurricane season, I could probably help you with those too. Being afraid of tornadoes and natural disasters isn’t terribly uncommon, but I took those fears to extremes.
You see, it’s one thing to be aware of your circumstances. It’s another thing to let them consume and control you—and that’s what fear does. Plenty of people are scared of big catastrophes, but it isn’t always the big, dramatic events (like watching a tornado from the car window) that make us most afraid.
It could be walking into a certain room, what someone “might” say about you, if you’ll get a job after college, if you’re going to be a good mom, if he’ll love you for who you are or not, or even something as simple as the fear of not being wanted.
The key ingredient to overcoming fear is not just speaking to it; it’s speaking to it in Jesus’ name. When I tell fear to go away and leave me alone in the name of Jesus, I say it with lots of force and a little bit of sass. That short speech has become my anthem. I don’t care if I sound a little silly saying it. It works!
If you will stand up to fear, give it a little straight talk, and tell it to leave you alone in Jesus’ name, that will get you a long way. But beyond that, it’s also vital to trust God while you’re still afraid.
You see, often your peace is waiting for you on the other side of trust. I’ve had a lot of experiences where God met me once I stared down my fear, pushed through it, and did what I needed to do. When we’re afraid, we have a tendency to pray and ask God for peace before we’ll step out and do what frightens us. But most of the time, we simply need to move forward. Once we break through the fear, God gives us the most amazing sense of peace—but usually not while we’re still deciding whether to conquer it or not.
If you’re waiting for a sense of peace to come so you can deal with your fear, you could be waiting a long time. If you will be brave and march straight into that fearful situation, having faith that God will bring you through it, that’s probably where you’ll find the peace you’re looking for. It’s not that things aren’t scary. They are, and they will continue to be. But each of us has to come to a deep, personal realization that God has already conquered fear—and by the power of His Spirit we can live completely free from fear. There’s so much more to this life, so much we can experience and give to others if we can break free from fear. If we can learn to let God lead us instead of letting fear control us.
Turn with me in your bible to the book of Psalm and let’s read together. I encourage you to read this out loud!
“Show me the right path, O Lord; point out the road for me to follow. Lead me by your truth and teach me, for you are the God who saves me. All day long I put my hope in you.” (Psalm 25:4–5)
The world wants to take you on a journey. It wants to tell you how to live your life, what you should think is important, how you should think about your work, how you should handle relationships, what you should try to achieve… The list goes on.
And sometimes, that journey looks good. It can be pretty attractive and satisfying for a while. But it is not the journey that will glorify God. As John Piper says,
God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.
That’s a challenge, but it’s a challenge with an amazing reward. Let me encourage you today to let God—not the world or anything the world tries to inspire you to be or do—be the most satisfying thing in your life. Even if He’s leading you in a direction you don’t really want to be led, and even if you’re really scared. It’s so important to establish a great relationship with Him and a great love for Him. That’s the only way to push past the fear and follow Him. He wants your love, He wants your trust, and He wants to take you on an amazing journey through life that will put to shame everything the world could ever offer.
Don’t be afraid of God’s leading in your life. Step out and follow, because He’s taking you somewhere awesome, sis.
Here’s an encouragement from me to you today! Lean away from your fears and into your Father in this moment.
“Nothing is never nothing. It’s always something.”
—Cecelia Ahern, The Book of Tomorrow
“Chris, drop anchor,” Nick shouted to me from the stern of our little boat in the Aegean Sea. We were vacationing for a few days in Santorini, Greece—my favorite place on earth. (Yes, the same place where I’ve daydreamed about opening a little café.) It was fun to be out on the water and to reminisce about our honeymoon more than two decades before in this same paradise. Just like back then, Nick had rented a boat so we could explore the island and its coves.
Both Nick and I love boating. I especially love the beauty of gliding across the water, watching the sunset, and feeling the salt air on my face. Nick likes more high-octane adventure, and he never minds getting so far out that we encounter shipping lanes where our boat feels like the size of a life raft next to massive cargo ships. (Of course, those kinds of trips just cause me to pray more.)
Today, he just wanted to fish, which meant I could relax. As we left the marina, we headed in search of our favorite small cay and its secluded little lagoon. It was the perfect place to drop anchor.
Whenever we go boating, Nick often fishes while I close my eyes and soak up the sun. Don’t get me wrong; I love to fish too . . . as long as I don’t have to touch the fish. The truth is, I like the thought of fishing more than actually fishing, so I suppose you can say sunbathing is my preferred sport.
As Nick set up his gear and cast his line, I went to the bow of the boat and dropped the anchor. Then I stretched out to rest and nap. It was the perfect kind of day. Just the two of us and lots of sun and sea.
I must have dozed off longer than I thought, because when I awoke, the mild breeze had turned into a biting wind. The heat of the sun on my skin had turned into a damp chill, and the boat was rocking way too much for our shallow cove. As I opened my eyes and sat up, I looked around to find us far from where I’d fallen asleep.
How did we get here?
Nick was stowing his gear. “Chris, did you drop the anchor like I told you?”
“Yes, of course,” I answered him. (I always do my best to be a great first mate!)
“But did you set it? The current has taken us really far out.”
“Did I what? What are you talking about? You asked me to drop the anchor, and I did. You didn’t say to do anything else,” I said in defense of my expert seamanship.
“Chris, if you don’t ensure the anchor is attached to the ocean floor, then we aren’t really anchored.”
Well, no one told me that part of the equation.
Holding on to the side of the boat, with the waves looming larger and larger, I estimated that we’d drifted more than a mile out to sea—right into the shipping lanes, and this time it wasn’t for adventure. Apparently, Nick had taken a break from fishing to nap as well—and neither of us had noticed that we were drifting into dangerous waters, far away from the security of our calm little cove. I looked beyond the nearby ominous ships and saw a storm brewing in the distance, working its way toward us. We’d have to outrun it for sure. None of this was what I had imagined for our day.
As I held on, Nick began to navigate our little boat back in the direction of land. Fighting the current and the waves, he tacked back and forth through the choppy seas and against the fierce wind. I grew nauseated as the boat ran straight up a wave only to fall on top of the next—one right after the other. My knuckles grew white as I gripped the rail tighter and tighter trying to stay put on the seat.
Nick stayed with it. He’s always been an expert captain, so I knew we’d make it back somehow, but the journey was nothing less than arduous. It took us so long to reach port that when we idled into the marina, the sun had set and the docks were almost deserted. As we secured the boat in a slip and climbed out, it seemed every muscle in my body that had tensed for hours was letting go all at once. Wobbling toward the car with just a few streetlights and the moon to guide us, I reflected on all we’d just been through—and what had caused it.
Nick had positioned us correctly, facing into the breeze, when he asked me to drop anchor—something he usually managed that I never paid much attention to. If I had just dropped it, held on to the rope, and then given it a good tug as we floated away from it, we would have been secured. The water was so clear, I probably could have seen it take hold if I’d been watching it, but I didn’t fully understand the connection between dropping the anchor and anchoring: a dropped anchor gives the appearance of stability, while a set anchor actually grants stability. Only the latter keeps you safe. The other lets you drift into danger, wherever the current is flowing. It will lead you somewhere, anywhere—most likely where you do not want to go. What I learned on the water that day was even more critical than I realized. More relevant than I had ever understood.
It is so easy to drift.
All you have to do is nothing.
Christine Caine is an activist, speaker, and author living in Southern California. Along with her husband, Nick, she is the founder of A21, a global anti-human trafficking organization, and Propel Women, an organization dedicated to celebrating every woman’s passion, purpose, and potential. She regularly speaks in conferences, churches, colleges, and international gatherings. She is the author of several books, including her latest book, “How Did I Get Here? Finding Your Way Back to God When Everything is Pulling You Away.” A frequent guest on television programs and podcasts, she also hosts her own television program as well as a podcast, both titled Equip & Empower with Christine Caine. When she’s not traveling, speaking, or writing, she can be found hiking mountain trails, running on the beach, or laughing with her daughters, Catherine and Sophia.