When Peace Like a River

In November 1873, Horatio Spafford stood at the railing of a ship crossing the Atlantic, staring into cold, dark water. Somewhere beneath those waves, his four daughters had drowned just days earlier when the SS Ville du Havre collided with another vessel and sank. His wife Anna survived and had cabled him two words that broke the world open: "Saved alone."

Spafford was no stranger to loss. Two years before, the Great Chicago Fire had wiped out his real estate investments. His young son had died of scarlet fever. Now this. As the captain notified him they were passing over the approximate spot where the ship went down, Spafford returned to his cabin and wrote words that have steadied millions of grieving 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."

Notice that phrase: "Thou hast taught me to say." Spafford did not claim the feeling came naturally. Trust was something the Almighty had been teaching him, line upon line, loss upon loss. It was not denial. It was not passivity. It was a man choosing to place the full weight of his shattered life into the hands of a God he believed was still good.

Trust is rarely born in comfort. It is forged in the moments when every reason to doubt is present — and we choose to sing anyway.