Because I live

High on a rock face, two climbers move bound to each other by a single rope. The one below is not safe because of the strength in his own hands; his grip will tire, his feet will slip, his arms will burn out long before the summit. He is safe because the rope runs up to the one above, and the one above is fixed to an anchor driven deep into the mountain that will not give. If the lower climber falls, he does not fall far, and he does not fall alone; he hangs from a line fastened to something that holds. On the last night before His death, in a room full of frightened friends, Jesus hands them a sentence that works exactly like that rope. Because I live, He says, you will live also. Their living is tied to His living. He had said it before, standing at a grave, to a sister wrecked with grief: I am the resurrection and the life, and whoever believes in me will live, even if he dies. The lower climber's whole hope hangs on the anchor above.

Hear where your hope of life actually rests, because so many people pin it in the wrong place. It does not rest on the strength of your faith, the firmness of your grip, the steadiness of your feelings about God on a given day. Because I live, Jesus says, you will live also. You are roped to Him, and He is the anchor that cannot fall. When your own hold on Him feels weak, when your hands are tired and your feet keep slipping, the rope still holds, because the rope was never fastened to your strength. It is fastened to the One who is Himself the resurrection and the life. Death tried its full strength on Him and could not keep Him. And you are tied to that One. His resurrection, not your grip, is the guarantee of your life. So when you feel yourself slipping, do not despair over the weakness of your hands. Look up the rope to the anchor that does not move.