O believer , what a glorious assur ance this verse is! What confi dence I have because “the way that I take”—this way of trials and tears, however winding, hidden, or tangled—“He knows”! When the “furnace [is] heated seven times hotter than usual” (Daniel 3:19), I can know He still lights my way. There is an almighty Guide who knows and directs my steps, whether they lead to the bitter water at the well of Marah or to the joy and refreshment of the oasis at Elim (Exodus 15:23, 27).

The way is dark to the Egyptian s yet has its own pillar of cloud and fire for God’ s Israel. The furnace may be hot, but not only can I trust the hand that lights the fire, I can also have the assurance the fire will not consume but only refine. And when the refining process is complete, not a moment too soon or too late, “I will come forth as gold” (Job 23:10).

When I feel God is the farthest away , He is often the nearest to me. “When my spirit grows faint within me, it is you who watch over my way” (Psalm 142:3). Do we know of another who shines brighter than the most radiant sunlight, who meets us in our room with the first wakin g light, who has an infinitely tender and compassionate watchfulness over us throughout our day , and who “knows the way that [we] take”?

The world, during a time of adversity , speaks of “providence” with a total lack of understanding. They dethrone God, who is the living, guiding Sovereign of the universe, to some inanimate, dead abstraction . What they call “providence” they see as occurrences of fate, reducing God from His position as our acting, powerful, and personal Jehovah.

The pain would be removed from many an agonizing trial if only I could see what Job saw during his time of severe affliction, when all earthly hope lay dashed at his feet. He saw nothing but the hand of God—God’ s hand behind the swords of the Sabeans who attacked his servant s and cattle, and behind the devastating lightning; God’ s hand giving wings to the mighty desert winds, which swept away his children; and God’ s hand in the dreadful silence of his shattered home.

Thus, seeing God in everything, Job could say, “The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away; may the name of the LORD be praised” (Job 1:21). Yet his faith reached its zenith when this once-powerful prince of the desert “sat among the ashes ” (Job 2:8) and still could say, “Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him” (Job 13:15). J. R. M ACDUFF

There is nothing that makes the Scriptures more precious to us than a time of “captivity.” The old psalms of God’s Word have sung for us with compassion by our stream at Babel and have resounded with new joy as we have seen the Lord deliver us from captivity and “restore our fortunes, . . . like streams in the Negev” (Psalm 126:4).

A person who has experienced great difficulties will not be easily parted from his Bible. Another book may appear to others to be identical, but to him it is not the same. Over the old and tear-stained pages of his Bible, he has written a journal of his experiences in words that are only visible to his eyes. Through those pages, he has time and again come to the pillars of the house of God and “to Elim, where there were . . . palm trees” (Exodus 15:27). And each of those pillars and trees have become a remembrance for him of some critical time in his life.

In order to receive any benefit from our captivity, we must accept the situation and be determined to make the best of it. Worrying over what we have lost or what has been taken from us will not make things better but will only prevent us from improving what remains. We will only serve to make the rope around us tighter if we rebel against it.

In the same way, an excitable horse that will not calmly submit to its bridle only strangles itself. And a high-spirited animal that is restless in its yoke only bruises its own shoulders. Everyone will also understand the analogy that Laurence Sterne, a minister and author of the eighteenth century, penned regarding a starling and a canary. He told of the difference between a restless starling that broke its wings struggling against the bars of its cage and continually cried, “I can’t get out! I can’t get out!” and a submissive canary that sat on its perch and sang songs that surpassed even the beauty of those of a lark that soared freely to the very gates of heaven.

No calamity will ever bring only evil to us, if we will immediately take it in fervent prayer to God. Even as we take shelter beneath a tree during a downpour of rain, we may unexpectedly find fruit on its branches. And when we flee to God, taking refuge beneath the shadow of His wing, we will always find more in Him than we have ever before seen or known.

Consequently, it is through our trials and afflictions that God gives us fresh revelations of Himself. Like Jacob, we must cross “the ford of the Jabbok” (Genesis 32:22) if we are ever to arrive at Peniel, where he wrestled with the Lord, was blessed by Him, and could say, “I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared” (Genesis 32:30).

Make this story your own, dear captive, and God will give you “songs in the night” (Job 35:10) and will turn your “midnight into dawn” (Amos 5:8). NATHANIEL WILLIAM TAYLOR

Submission to God’s divine will is the softest pillow on which to rest.

It filled the room, and it filled my life,

With a glory of source unseen;

It made me calm in the midst of strife,

And in winter my heart was green.

And the birds of promise sang on the tree

When the storm was breaking on land and sea.