Our hearts can so easily stray—wander from the truth, drift from the grace, roam from the love that has rescued us. On one level it’s hard to imagine. How could we not be fully anchored when we have tasted of God’s goodness in our lives? Yet, on another level, we are broken, vulnerable people living in the middle of intense wind and waves that relentlessly pound at our faith. These currents are not haphazard or random, they’re encircling us at our weakest points, seeking to erode our bindings.

There are a few circumstances in my life that have recently reminded me how susceptible each of us are to the wind and waves whirling around us. I don’t want to be arrogant enough to believe that I’m not vulnerable to their power, where the rust of a corrupt heart goes unchecked, slowly deteriorating into deep moral decay. I want to be vigilant in my efforts to protect my heart from corrosion, to safeguard against the elements that can eat away at my faith.

In the hymn, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, Robert Robertson wrote, “Prone to wander, Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love; here’s my heart now, take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above.” He composed this poignant, weighty song and yet, even still did his heart wander, drifting into a lifestyle of flagrant, destructive indulgence.

Throughout Scripture, passages speak of God’s keeping—keeping us from stumbling, keeping us from harm, keeping us from breaking our vows. It requires more than an act of will; Jesus must be at work in us. Being anchored necessitates strength beyond ourselves, a continual asking and seeking God to protect and hold us, to keep us—keep us from decay.

I want to be kept. I desperately need God to keep me…day by day…hour by hour…minute by minute.