When peace like a river attendeth my way.
Even as the pen scribbled the words onto the empty sheet, the writer’s hand trembled. He looked out over the rail at the still sea and gripped the pen even tighter.
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives, do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” He quoted the verse aloud, for at least the tenth time that day.
How could he keep his heart from being troubled? How could he not be afraid?
Setting the pen down on the table, he rose and made his way to the end of the deck. The waters over which the ship sailed sparkled in the afternoon light. They looked so still. So pretty. So calm. But Horatio knew those sparkling waters were his daughters’ grave.
He closed his eyes to pray and once again pictured a dark sea — its waters cold and choppy. He could almost feel the boat rocking to and fro, hear the wind whipping the sail, see the dark shadow of another boat mere feet away. Then a crash — a sudden shock, the splintering of wood, people screaming.
“When sorrows like sea billows roll.” He whispered to himself. “Oh Lord,” he prayed aloud, “Lord, how can we bear this?”
Horatio knelt a long time on the deck, tears streaming down his hidden face. His shoulders rose and fell as he struggled to contain his grief. He thought of his four little girls — Annie, Maggie, Bessie, Tanetta — four sweet, precious souls swallowed up in cold, dark waves. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Are you well, Mr. Spafford?”
Horatio looked up to see a young man, one of the ship’s crew. He nodded. “I am well.”
“I’m very sorry, Sir. The Captain told me about your loss.”
Horatio nodded again and turned to look out at the sea. He hadn’t even the words to thank the boy. I am well. He repeated to himself, his knuckles turning white as he held tightly to the railing. It is well. Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, it is well…it is well with my soul.
Returning to the table at which he had been sitting, he picked up the pen and completed the stanza. Then his eyes drifted to the corner of another paper he had tucked inside his bible. He pulled it free.
It was a telegram from his wife, its edges worn by frequent handling. In the print of the typewriter, he once again read: “Saved alone. What shall I do?” What should we do?
He picked up his pen and placed it to the sheet of paper again. 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. He nodded. That’s our first step. First, we remember what our Savior hath done.
My sin, he wrote, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!— My sin, not in part but the whole, is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more, praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
He picked up his bible and leafed through its pages. In the words of Matthew, he found another storm.
The ink on the page turned into the murky waves of another wind tossed sea. The wood of the boat creaked and groaned. The wind howled and tore at the sails. The rain came down in a torrent. A dark night. A tossing sea. A dark shadow on the waves.
“It’s a spirit!” Someone cried.
But then the shadow spoke, “Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.”
Horatio could almost feel the disciples relief in finding the dark shape to be their Lord, instead of danger as they had feared — but he wondered at Peter’s response: “Lord, if it be thou will, bid me come unto thee on the water.”
Why would he choose a position of greater difficulty? As if the danger they faced within the boat was not great enough, he asked to be allowed to forsake the safety of the vessel and venture out into open waters. Why?
And why did the Lord not stop him? He didn’t say “Peter, do you know what you are asking?” He simply said, “Come.”
Then the miracle – Peter walked on the waters. He rose above. The storm, the waves, they didn’t overcome him.
“I long, O Lord.” Horatio Spafford prayed, “to rise above this storm. To walk above these waters and not be overcome.”
But how? He opened his eyes and kept on reading. “When Peter saw the wind was boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, ‘Lord, save me’. And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him.”
That was it! He could walk on water when his eyes were on Jesus. But when he focused on the circumstances instead, he sunk.
“Jesus said to him, “O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?” Lord, I too have doubted. Help me henceforth to keep my eyes on you.
Horatio flipped through the pages of his bible again, stopping in Philippians this time. His eyes skimmed through the verses till he found what he was looking for.
“For me to live is Christ and to die is gain.” He read. So began his next verse, For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live: if Jordan above me shall roll, no pang shall be mine, for in death as in life Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
Until two years ago, Horatio Spafford had thought peace was the absence of suffering, a state of harmony and undisturbed calm. He was learning that it is so much more than that; it is a grace that transcends difficulty; a quiet, a stability that allows one to stand even in the midst of a storm. Now, he knew how to find it. By fixing his eyes on Jesus, regardless of the circumstance, by focusing on his Lord no matter what waves might come.
But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait, the sky, not the grave, is our goal. His eyes returned to the lapping waves. Here they had died, all four of his little girls, but here they would not remain. The sky, not the grave, is our goal. He repeated. Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord! Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul! And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight, the clouds be rolled back as a scroll; the trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend, even so, it is well with my soul.
In Christ
Quiana
*Lyrics (in bold) taken from It Is Well With My Soul, a song by Horatio Spafford
*Scripture References in ESV: John xiv.27, Matthew xiv. 24- 33, Philippians i.21