Have you ever gone through something terrible or adventurous or just straight up scary and you feel the compulsion to make sure everyone in ear shot of your life knows exactly what you just endured? Maybe it’s just me. Airplane turbulence, stomach flu, Medical-Surgical clinical rotations…harrowing experiences that I need you to fully appreciate!
I feel this way sometimes when I talk about Mom. I feel like saying that my mom died from cancer isn’t giving her enough credit for the craziness that she endured. I want people to know the heroic years she fought and the way she lived her life. I know this sounds noble of me but it’s not. I get all riled up on the inside. I feel a building sense of unfairness, injustice…bitterness. Towards the anonymous public who is alive, the anonymous daughters who have healthy mothers.
So, Sunday morning I woke up with one of those half-baked trains of thought that occur in between the bed and coffee. I thought about Jesus the way I thought of Mom. I thought: theologians talk about what his death accomplished and the good work that was done on the cross. What about how much it sucked for his human body to go through that torture? What about how awful it all was? Let’s give him some more credit for the pain. I felt that same building bitterness. Towards an anonymous group of theologians.
Good grief.
And then I went to church and we sang the best rendition of It is Well With My Soul that I have ever heard. It is fairly well known that this song was written by Horatio Spafford after losing his fortune in the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 and losing his four daughters shortly after when their ship collided with another crossing the Atlantic. As we sang, I was struck by the fact that it is well with my mom’s soul. Cancer ravaged her body, yet, because of the cross that ravaged her Savior’s body, her soul remained well. And you better believe, on the cross, it was well with His soul. He desires our gratitude and our worship, not our pity and anger at how he was treated.
No matter what our harrowing experience is, our soul always remains well. Bitterness is a prolonged and angry sense of injustice. I can be sad but I cannot be bitter that Mom suffered and that I don’t have her anymore. Because her soul is well. And mine is too.
I hope you spend some time today reading or listening to these words. I pray that you remember through the scary adventure that you are on, that It Is Well With Your Soul.
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, 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.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with 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!
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
But, Lord, ‘tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh trump of the angel! Oh voice of the Lord!
Blessèd hope, blessèd rest of my soul!
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with 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.
ebdoeslife 