It Is Well

The old hymn, It Is Well With My Soul, is one of the most dear to me.  (here is a link to a beautiful version of the song with some cheesy pictures )I have always loved it, and I sang it at the funeral of my grandmother, GrandBetty.  The lyrics are profound and powerful and very grounding in times of trouble.

I sang the song again last night.  Not at a funeral, but at the bedside of another grand Betty, a very great lady, who will be meeting our Lord very soon.  Betty and her husband are my community group leaders, and have been hosting the gathering of our small community for the last 9 months.  They have shared gospel truth with us, they have prayed with us, they have directed us, and they have loved us.

Betty has had cancer for years, and it is finally winning.

But death is not winning.  

Betty is going to be with her Maker, and He is going to give her a new body.

A body that is not being devoured by an ever-growing tumor.

A body that is fit for much more than laying in bed.

A body that will dance and play like a young woman again.

A Heavenly body.

And we rejoice that even though things are not well with her body at the moment, they are well with her soul.  Because of what Christ has done for Betty, her soul is not at odds with the Maker, it is at peace with Him. Her soul is bound for glory, and that is something to celebrate. 


And we know we will be with Betty again, because of what Christ has done for us.  That is something that can make our souls glad. 


Something that makes things well with our souls too.  

Ill leave you with the words to this hymn that the dear lady listened to last night, holding my hand, with tears in her eyes.  

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.

Refrain:

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!

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.

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!

Blessed hope, blessed rest of 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.