Listen next for Safe in the Storm, a story of God's miraculous deliverance on today's program from the Fortress of Faith. In Greenville, South Carolina, there stands a lighthouse of Christian testimony. beaconing forth the light of salvation to a world lost on the sea of sin and despair. Bob Jones University, a fortress of faith. At one time or another all of us have experienced a feeling of fear when we think of what the future may hold for us. Too often we worry about a certain thing happening, and then we find out later that there never really was cause for worry. Those of us who have received Jesus Christ as Savior have the assurance that God holds us in the hollow of His hand. The power of Almighty God rests upon the life of every Christian surrendered to His will. This promise was given to Joshua on the banks of the Jordan when God said, I will be with thee. I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee. We hope today's story will help you claim this promise for your own life. Storms have always frightened me. When I was a child, a distant thunder clap would send me crying to my mother. Grown up with children of my own, I was still frightened. Oh, I no longer burst into tears at the sight of a cloud, but I paced the house nervously and breathed a sigh of relief when the sun came out again. One summer, we decided to live on a farm in Kansas while my husband commuted to a nearby university for research. A farm? You can't mean it. I can't imagine you on a farm. I'll bet you don't even know what a real cow looks like. Don't be silly. Times have changed. Even farmers get milk from the supermarket. And the house is air-conditioned, and the neighbor kids will tend the garden. And think of those long, quiet evenings with the kids chasing fireflies, starry skies, golden wheat fields. Ah, it sounds marvelous. Just you wait until you have a thunderstorm. You haven't seen anything until you've lived through a good midwestern storm. You just wait. I was willing to wait. All summer. June was beautiful. I learned to like getting up as the sun rose to fix Warren's breakfast before he left for the day. Well, off to the salt mines. What great thing do you plan to do today? I thought I'd read a little, maybe walk down to the creek with Sue. If Angie goes along, don't leave her this time. Oh, Warren, haven't you forgotten that yet? Hardly. When a man walks half a mile at midnight to rescue a rag doll, he isn't going to forget the trip soon. It did look like rain. Yes, we enjoyed the farm. The boys played elaborate adventure games, fished and rode horses and tractors. And the windmill. We all watched that. I'd seen pictures of them before. American Gothic, you know. But I didn't know they still really existed. This one was a tall metallic monster whose blades whirled and creaked. Then one evening in July, I sat reading Sue her bedtime story. So the mother made a basket and put the baby Moses in it, and... Mike, what are you doing? Oh, nothing. Just looking outside. Why don't you sit here on the floor beside Bobby and build something? Looking out the window every two minutes isn't going to make Daddy get home sooner. His meeting will last another hour at least. I thought I heard thunder. There. Hear it? Well, maybe. It's a long way off, though. And I saw lightning, too. sunset, there'd been a high bank of clouds building up in the west. I opened the door and looked out. Here and there, a flash of white blanketed the darkness, then faded. I prayed, Oh Lord, at least don't let it storm until Warren gets home. Mama, I didn't leave the door open so the ponies could get inside. Oh Mike, I don't think they mind. Besides, you can't go now. Smell that rain? I think it will be here any minute. They'll be scared and wet, and Mr. Brown said to open the door for them. I've got to go and do it. Will you stand here on the steps so I can call you? No, Mike, don't. Before I could protest, he was gone. The lightning flash outlined him as he ran, and a sharp crack startled me. Then a sudden gush of rain soaked me. The wind whipped the bushes in the yard. Mike? They didn't try to come back. Inside and forced the door shut against the wind. You hear me. He's down there in the barn until the rain is over. He'll be all right. Dark and loud. He'll be scared. If he tries to come back. I step back outside and close the door shut behind me. against the open porch with no shelter against the driving rain, and every flash of lightning outlined strange, gyrating shapes of the yard. The wind moaned and whined. My arms felt like ice, and then suddenly... Why, it stopped. Look at all the leaves all over the ground. Well, so that was my first Midwestern thunderstorm. I'm glad it's over. What's that noise? A jet? A tornado. Mama! Mama! Stay there, son. I'm coming to get you. I started to run across the yard. The roar increased until it became the only thing in the world. I couldn't breathe. I felt no pain, saw nothing. It was filled with that roar. It's raining again. What am I doing? Flying here. What time is it? Strange. I sat up carefully and leaned back against cold steel. I felt it with my hand. The windmill. Suddenly I remembered. Mike! Mike! Here I am, Mama! Are you all right? My leg hurts. Can you come down? I don't think so. I'm so high. And my leg really does hurt. Just a minute. I'll go to the house and get something. Are Sue and Bobby in the house? Sue and Bobby? I turned. I can't say the house was gone. A dark shape stood against the sky. But the top floor was gone and jagged edges stood here and there in the shadow. I stumbled through a nightmare world to get to that dark shape. Part of the time I was crawling. I tore tree limbs out of the way, tripped over boards. I had to get to the house. Bobby, Sue, are you all right? Bobby? Sue? I don't know how long it had taken me to get into the house or how much longer before I heard their voices. Both my babies were safe. They had crawled into a closet near the kitchen when the storm frightened them. There's no need to tell you the rest. Most of it, I don't remember. Help came soon. Mike spent some time in the hospital, a broken leg. I was bruised and scratched. Sued Bobby. Unhurt. When we got back to the farm from the hospital, we saw that the house was a shambles. Look. Look at that. See the closet? The only undamaged place in the house. And look at that windmill. A mass of steel. Seven inches from my body. Why wasn't I crushed? God was in the storm with me. He's been with me in all the storms. But I've never noticed. I've been in storms since that one. Oh, not a tornado again, but other kinds. And I won't tell you that I love a storm, but I can tell you that I no longer fear them. For my God will never leave me nor forsake me. I'm safe in the storm. We shall make good steadfast in joy, and through the rock we shall enter. We'll enter bold in the storms of life, when the clouds run cold, there in the sky. When the strong tide rifts and the cables break, Will your anger, grit, or fervor remain? Faith and anger, let it control. Steadfast and sure, one will unfold. Fastened to the rock, we shall not droop. Proud and firm and deep in the Saviour's love. If his faith renews, will the storm withstand, For his last great joy by the Savior's hand? And their tables pass from his heart to mine, And he flies at last to his great divine. Though he's at this rage and no fire may burn, Not an angry flash shall our hearts burn. When our eyes behold through the gathering night, The city of gold, our armor bright, We shall anchor fast for the heavenly shore, when the storm rolls past forevermore. We have an anchor that gives us hope. Steadfast in shore while the billows roll, Standing through the rock, we shall not move. Proud in word, and deep in the Saviour's love, Yet we shall endure and keep the soul. Stay fast, make sure, while the billows roll, Fasten to the cross, we shall not move, And crown him in the Saviour's love. We have an anchor in the Saviour's love. God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. He commandeth and raiseth the stormy wind, He maketh the storm a calm. Therefore we will not fear, the Lord of hosts is with us, the God of Jacob is our refuge. Listen again next week for another dramatic story of Christian experience from the Fortress of Faith, Bob Jones University in Greenville, South Carolina. O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming? . The. you