It is Well With My Soul

Two Sundays ago, we sang the song It is Well With My Soul. It was an incredibly moving time of worship during the service as we praised the Lord for our salvation and for His return. What I didn't know was how much I was going to need that song during the week.

Before I continue with my story of this past week and a half's events, I first must explain the background to this incredible song. The song was written by Horatio Spafford following several tragedies in his life. The first involved the death of his only son in 1871, which was then followed by the great Chicago fire, which ruined him financially. The tipping point and true inspiration of the song was the death of his four daughters. In 1873, He had sent them and his wife ahead to Europe for a trip while he dealt with business back at home. While on their way, their ship tragically sank, and only his wife survived. As he made his way to Europe to be with his wife, he wrote the words to this song as he passed near the spot where the ship had sunk. It amazes me that a man who had undergone that much tragedy could write such amazing words like this. It points to the insurmountable hope he had in Christ.

This past week was not nearly as tragic as the events related above, but the words that Spafford wrote were just as true and encouraging. It was this week that I first felt the physical affects of the chemotherapy after this last round. I was incredibly tired, weak, achy,feverish, and generally had a lack of energy and well being. I felt the incredible drain that the chemo had put on my body and it was hard to persevere through it. My doctor prescribed some antibiotics on Tuesday, but they did little to make me feel any better. I struggled throughout the week, trying to get rest, but nothing was really working. I just had to rely on those words, "it is well with my soul". Friday rolled around and with it my doctors visit to get my blood checked. As it turned out, both my white and red cells were extremely low causing the majority of my symptoms. The doctor came to see me, and because I was still feverish and my blood levels still low, he decided to admit me into the hospital to run some tests, give me blood and antibiotics.

And so here it is, Monday evening, and I'm still in the hospital. Finally they have some idea what is wrong with me and can give me more specific antibiotics, but I am still in here indefinitely. God has been good through it all. My cousin Andy came down from Colorado this weekend and we've gotten to spend the entire weekend hanging out and catching up. I finally got to be in the new cancer hospital, which is pretty great I might add. But none of these compare to the truth in the song Spafford wrote. Some of those outside of Christianity think that what we do is believe in a lie so thatwe don't have to encounter the general angst and difficulties of this life. But that's not true at all. It's not that we Christians just drum up this feeling of goodyness and false emotions, lying to ourselves to say that everything is fine. That's not the point of that song and that's not the point of the Christianity. We aren't trying to escape the trials of this world or pretend they don't exist. I guarantee you Horatio Spafford understood better than most that life was incredibly difficult at times, almost impossible. After what he lost it is amazing that he could even move on.

But that's just the thing, he knew the secret. He had found the hope that could overcome all obstacles. A hope that endured through the most difficult trials and tribulations. A hope that is sweeter than anything else in this life. That is the hope of salvation in Christ. I will let his words explain themselves as I finish this blog. I'm glad can join him and say amidst this bump in the road, "It is well with my soul."


Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, 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!

And Lord, haste the day when my 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.

It is well with my soul
It is well with my soul
It is well, it is well with my soul.