Tuesday, March 22, 2011

It Is Well (With My Soul)

Ever since we lost Alexis, I have always had the song, "It Is Well (With My Soul)," in my mind and my heart. I sing it every day and when I rock Nathan at night I sing it and "I Will Carry You" and whatever else hits me that night. My church has sung it a few times since then. For the first few months, I could barely start singing it without bursting into tears. I remember singing it at church and holding Nathan (he was a few weeks old) and tears just streaming down my face. I wasn't crying because "It was well," I was crying because to me it wasn't. I so desperately wanted it to be, but it just wasn't. I wanted to be one of those super Christians who could just give it all to God and say, "Whatever my lot, it is well, Lord!" I couldn't and it broke my heart. I felt like such a hypocrite singing a song in church that I honestly didn't feel like was the truth. I began praying everyday, "Lord help me one day to be able to sing this song and mean it." I've also prayed for "the peace that surpasses understanding." I am thrilled to be able to share that I can finally sing that song and mean it. I know that the peace that I am feeling has to come from God alone. I am amazed at how great the peace is. To be honest, I look at it as a miracle because I know only God could do this. I couldn't do it on my own. Trust me, I've tried at times to no avail. It really only made it worse because when I was having a weak moment, the peace would go away. Once I really trusted God to bring me the peace, He hasn't ceased to let me down. I am so thankful!

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.

It is well with my soul,
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.


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.


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