The tempest rages, yet your post is fixed. This is no marvel, for a man under orders must stand his watch though the heavens themselves fall. You are inside the sphere of your appointed labor, and there is no safer place to be. The vessel may pitch, but the passenger who must cling to a rope and hold fast is less likely to be tossed into the deep than he who wanders the deck in panic. Your work, which seems a cruel necessity, is God’s tether to keep you occupied and anchored.
Do you not know the story of the lad on board ship in the time of storm? He alone was without fear, for his father held the helm. Is your Father not at the helm of this tempest? The clouds are the dust of His feet, and the lightnings are His messengers. You are looking at the blackness bending over the earth, but have you considered that it bows to His command? The unbelief of fear is a foul dishonor. It whispers that He rules in the calm but not in the chaos, that His arm is strong only when the sky is bright. Away with such traitorous suggestions! He who strengthens you for the day’s work does not palsy when the winds blow. Fear is a plant that ought never to cumber the soil of a believer’s heart, for it sucks the life out of faith.
Wherefore do you fear damage or destruction? If you are His, your life is a charmed thing until your course is finished. No bolt can fall, no wind can smite, but by His permission. Your safety lies not in the absence of danger, but in the presence of “God our Savior,” who is able to keep you from falling. Do you imagine the ship will founder while your Father is captain? That the house shall become your tomb while Jesus has promised to prepare a place for you? Such fears are shadows, and a soul trusting in Christ should walk through them unafraid. The command is absolute and unqualified, "Fear not." It is not a suggestion for serene Sabbaths; it is a precept for days of blackness and howling wind.
Your labor is not a curse to be wept over; it is a mercy. To work the works of Him that sent you is to be occupied with your hands while your heart stays firm upon God. If you could stop, you might sit and fret, and so let terror eat your strength. But you cannot stop. Therefore, this is your hour to feel the leather of the harness. Look not at the lightning; look at the duty before you. Your desk is your watchtower. The promise stands, "I am with you; be not dismayed." To mind your work in a storm is no small faith. It is the quiet valor of a child who trusts his Father to manage the hurricane while the child does his little task.
Pray without ceasing, but do not let your prayer be a shriek of bondage. Let it be the lifting of your soul to the one who holds the winds in His fists. If the storm deepens, let this be the song of your soul, "He is my stronghold; I will not fear." Trust Him in the dark as you would in the light. And while the rain beats against the glass, know that the same Hand which sprinkles the hills with showers will either preserve you or take you swiftly home to be with Him forevermore. That is not a terror; it is exceeding joy in the bosom of the storm. Therefore, to your work, and let your heart be calm.