The Hymn Born in a Shipwreck

In 1873, Horatio Spafford put his wife and four daughters on a ship bound for England. He planned to join them later. Partway across the Atlantic, the vessel collided with another ship and sank in twelve minutes. All four of his daughters drowned. His wife, Anna, survived and sent him a telegram with two devastating words: "Saved alone."

Spafford boarded the next available ship to meet her. When the captain notified him they were passing over the spot where his children had perished, Spafford went to his cabin and wrote words that have steadied millions of trembling hearts since: "When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll — whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul."

That is not the courage of someone who feels no pain. That is the courage of a man who feels every wave of it and still turns his face toward the Almighty. He did not write "I understand." He did not write "This is fine." He wrote "It is well" — a declaration of trust flung into the teeth of the worst storm a father could endure.

Courage is not the absence of grief. Courage is worship in the darkness. It is the shaking voice that still sings. Whatever you are facing this morning, you do not need to pretend the sea is calm. You only need to open your mouth and let the hymn rise anyway.