This second verse of the wonderful hymn, It Is Well with My Soul, comes to my mind often. What an anchor it is. How timeless are those three words, “my helpless estate.” Yes, I am helpless, born with a sin nature, prone to feelings of unworthiness. I constantly remember sins my Lord has forgotten. I fret over my seemingly paltry contributions to the work of the kingdom. I compare myself to evangelists who thrive on street-witnessing, or foreign missionaries who sacrifice their lives in swampy, mosquito-ridden jungles. I am sheepish that my part in the body seems to be tiny little fingers — that hold a pen — while others walk on brave, blistered feet. It doesn’t help when Satan comes along, the one who “accuses them before our God day and night.” He dearly loves to magnify my insecurities. And having an “artistic” temperament, emotion sometimes overwhelms that part of my brain that deals in truth.
But when I think about this verse, it’s as if the Savior reaches past emotions, all the way to the depth of my spirit. And I am reassured. When the ship of my faith is buffeted on breakers of doubt, how comforting it is to be reminded that Christ paid for my sins at Calvary, once and for all. He saw my helpless estate — even understood it, being human Himself — and He “regarded” me. Me!
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
Horatio Gates Spafford
Cling to the Anchor