It Is Well With My Soul

You know that moment when someone asks, "How are you doing?" and you automatically respond, "I'm fine!" even though your car just broke down, your bank account is crying, and you're pretty sure you left the oven on at home? We've all been there. We've mastered the art of the automatic "fine" response. It's like a reflex—someone asks how we're doing, and before our brain even processes the question, our mouth says, "Fine, thanks!"  But here's the thing: there's a massive difference between saying "I'm fine" through gritted teeth while everything falls apart.

The hymn "It Is Well With My Soul" was written by a man named Horatio Spafford in 1873. This man knew suffering in ways most of us can't even imagine.  He had a beautiful wife named Anna, and together they had five children. They were prosperous, faithful, and actively involved in ministry.  In 1870, their four-year-old boy, died of scarlet fever. Then, in 1871, the Great Chicago Fire devastated the city. Horatio had invested heavily in real estate along the shores of Lake Michigan, and the fire destroyed it all. He and Anna decided they needed a break, a time to rest and heal. They planned a trip to Europe, where Horatio would help with D.L. Moody's evangelistic campaigns in England. At the last minute, Horatio had to delay his departure to handle some urgent business matters. So he sent Anna and their four daughters ahead on a ship.  On November 22, 1873, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, the Ville du Havre collided with another ship. The vessel sank in just twelve minutes. Anna Spafford found herself in the freezing water, watching helplessly as her four daughters drowned before her eyes. Anna was rescued and taken to Wales, where she sent her husband a telegram with just two words: "Saved alone."  Can you imagine receiving that message?  Horatio immediately booked passage on the next ship to join his wife. As his ship passed over the approximate location where his daughters had drowned, the captain called Horatio to the bridge and told him, "This is the place where your daughters died."  And it was there, on that ship, sailing over the watery grave of his four precious daughters, that Horatio Spafford went to his cabin and wrote these words:  "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." 

This wasn't a man sitting in a comfortable church pew, theorizing about faith. This was a father who had buried his son, lost his fortune, and watched his four daughters drown in the ocean—and he penned the words, "It is well with my soul."

Jesus said in John 14:27: "Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."  There are two kinds of peace in this world. There's worldly peace—the kind that depends on circumstances. When life is good, you feel peaceful. When life falls apart, that peace evaporates like morning dew. It's circumstantial, temporary, and fragile.  But then there's God's peace—the peace that Jesus gives. This peace doesn't depend on your bank account, your health report, or whether your life is going according to plan. This peace is supernatural. It transcends understanding. It defies logic. 

The apostle Paul describes it in Philippians 4:6-7: "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."  The peace of God "surpasses all understanding." That means it doesn't make sense to the natural mind. It's the kind of peace that allows a man to stand over the grave of his children and say, "It is well with my soul." It's the peace that guards your heart and mind when everything around you is falling apart.  This is what Horatio Spafford experienced. He wasn't in denial. He wasn't pretending everything was okay. He was genuinely devastated. But underneath that grief, underneath that pain, there was a bedrock of peace—a deep, unshakeable confidence that God was still good, still sovereign, and still trustworthy, even when life made absolutely no sense.

Peace in tragedy doesn't mean you don't grieve. It doesn't mean you slap on a fake smile and pretend everything is fine. It doesn't mean you're not allowed to cry, to question, or to feel the weight of your pain.  Horatio Spafford grieved deeply. Anna Spafford was devastated. They felt the full weight of their loss. But in the midst of that grief, they had something that the world couldn't give and the world couldn't take away—a peace that came from knowing that God was still on the throne, that their daughters were in His presence, and that one day, they would see them again. 

Peace comes from knowing WHO is in control, not WHAT is happening. When you're in the middle of a crisis, your circumstances will scream at you. They'll tell you that everything is falling apart, that God has abandoned you, that there's no hope. But peace comes when you shift your focus from your circumstances to your God. He is sovereign. He is good. He is faithful. And He hasn't lost control, even when it feels like everything is spinning out of control.  This peace comes from trusting God's character, even when you can't understand His ways. Isaiah 55:8-9 says, "For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways, and My thoughts than your thoughts." You may never understand why God allowed that tragedy. You may never get the answers you're looking for. But you can trust His character. He is love. He is just. He is merciful. And He works all things together for good for those who love Him. 

The rest of the hymn he wrote:  "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." 

Horatio was looking forward to the day when faith would become sight, when the clouds would roll back, when Jesus would return, and when he would be reunited with his children in the presence of God. That hope sustained him. That hope gave him peace.  And friend, that same hope is available to you today. Whatever storm you're facing—whether it's loss, grief, financial ruin, broken relationships, or shattered dreams—you can have peace. Not because your circumstances change, but because your God never changes. Not because life makes sense, but because God is trustworthy. Not because the pain goes away, but because God's presence goes with you through the pain.