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

I will not doubt, though all my ships at sea Come drifting home with broken masts and sails; I will believe the Hand that never fails, From seeming evil works to good for me.

And though I weep because those sails are tattered, Still will I cry, while my best hopes lie shattered: “I trust in Thee.”

I will not doubt, though all my prayers return Unanswered from the still, white realm above; I will believe it is an all-wise love That has refused these things for which I yearn; And though at times I cannot keep from grieving, Yet the pure passion of my fixed believing Undimmed will burn.

I will not doubt, though sorrows fall like rain, And troubles swarm like bees about a hive. I will believe the heights for which I strive Are only reached by anguish and by pain; And though I groan and writhe beneath my crosses, Yet I will see through my severest losses The greater gain.

I will not doubt. Well anchored is this faith, Like some staunch ship, my soul braves every gale; So strong its courage that it will not fail To face the mighty unknown sea of death. Oh, may I cry, though body leaves the spirit, “I do not doubt,” so listening worlds may hear it, With my last breath.

An old seaman once said, “In fierce storms we must do one thing, for there is only one way to survive: we must put the ship in a certain position and keep her there.” And this, dear Christian, is what you must do.

Sometimes, like Paul, you cannot see the sun or the stars to help you navigate when the storm is bearing down on you. This is when you can do only one thing, for there is only one way. Reason cannot help you, past experiences will shed no light, and even prayer will bring no consolation. Only one course remains: you must put your soul in one position and keep it there.

You must anchor yourself steadfastly upon the Lord. And then, come what may—whether wind, waves, rough seas, thunder, lightning, jagged rocks, or roaring breakers—you must lash yourself to the helm, firmly holding your confidence in God’s faithfulness, His covenant promises, and His everlasting love in Christ Jesus. RICHARD FULLER

Before my window is a beautiful branch of a tree now in full spring dress.

Only a few weeks ago that same branch was loaded with ice—it seemed as if it must break! I remember one hour: it seemed it could not keep up. I expected to see it give way, but it did not break. Today it is beautiful!

There are many in this sad world who are as my bare branch was—loaded with ice. Their sorrows seem like hailstorms, and how to keep up, how to hold on, seems to be the one vital question. If one such should read about my branch, let me say to that one, “Don’t break; cling for your life to the one truth, that God has not forgotten you! He holds the winds in His fists; and the waves that now seem as though they would swallow you up, in the hollow of His hands.” You may look up and say, Thou hast a charge no waves can wash away; And let the storm that does Thy work Deal with me as it may.

And so, by simple faith in God’s goodness and love, you hold on, and when in the future—like the branch near my window—it shall be all spring with you, you will remember your sorrows as waters that have passed away.

“Hold on! It is not always winter; spring is coming. The birds are yet to sing on the very branch loaded with ice. Only, don’t break!”

My branch did not have a will of its own, but we have wills, and God can energize them. We must use our wills and say, “Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him” (Job 13:15) and “He never slays but to make alive.”

Thus trusting, though you may bend to the blast, you will not break; you will hold on; you will see your Spring!

And I know not any trouble, for I have the tempest’s King To change my winter’s fury to the gladness of His spring.

Blessed is the man who, when the tempest has spent its fury, recognizes his Father’s Voice in the undertone.