It Is Well With My Soul

May Series: Faith in the Fire

His Beloved,

Hi Brothers and Sisters,

Isn’t God good? Like all the time good?

Full transparency—I remember many “fire” 🔥 seasons in my life when I didn’t see a way out. Times when it felt like every door was locked and every prayer echoed in silence. But oh, how I remember my sweet mother gently saying, “It is well.”

She was a single mother. And as her oldest, I had a front row seat to both her praise and her pain. I watched her hold our family together with faith and a fierce kind of love. I witnessed the silent tears after the lights were out, and the spontaneous praise when unexpected blessings came through. I’m fortunate to remember the vulnerability of those moments. They shaped me. They made me kinder. And they taught me that prayer is not just a lifeline in crisis—it’s a rhythm of daily dependence on God.

Scripture in Focus:

“The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.” Isaiah 58:11 (NIV)

Isaiah 58 is a chapter that calls God’s people back to true worship. The people were fasting for appearances, seeking blessing without aligning their hearts with God’s justice, mercy, and love. But in verses 6–10, God redefines what a fast pleasing to Him looks like: loosing chains of injustice, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and lifting burdens.

And then comes verse 11—God’s promise to those who walk in that kind of alignment with His heart.

What It Reveals Spiritually:

This verse is both a reassurance and a reversal:

• “The Lord will guide you always” — In times when we feel disoriented, confused, or in the fire, this reminds us that God’s guidance is constant, not circumstantial.

• “He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land” — The “sun-scorched land” represents places of hardship, burnout, or wilderness seasons. Even there, God says you will not be forsaken. He will nourish you when life feels dry. What a promise! Even in what feels like a dry season, God promises to be there to fill you.

• “He will strengthen your frame” — God gives not just spiritual nourishment, but strength—emotional, physical, and mental. He reinforces what feels weak or worn down.

• “You will be like a well-watered garden” — In contrast to the dryness of life’s trials, God promises fruitfulness, peace, and beauty that *flows from Him.*The overflow season is our destiny.

• “Like a spring whose waters never fail” — This is about sustainability. You won’t just survive the fire—you’ll thrive after it, because your source is eternal.

What God births in us through the fire: a soul that’s grounded, nourished, and overflowing.

Witness to the Fire

My mom LIVED this verse. She was never truly alone in raising us.

The women who loved her unconditionally and raised her—are the grandmothers who chose us.

The tribe of remarkable women who mothered her included Irene Spencer, Ann Cain, Barbara Davis, and June Jackson. These incredible women have all gained their mansion, robes, and crowns in glory, and I know they would be so proud.

Their love wasn’t biological—it was covenantal. And that, beloved, is the heart of the Gospel.

Romans 8:15 says:

“The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, ‘Abba, Father.’”

Adoption is the greatest love story ever told.

It’s the story of how God chose us, redeemed us, and called us His own—not because of who we were, but because of who He is.

These women stepped in and wrapped us in that kind of choosing love. They were living, breathing reflections of God’s adopting grace.

And as we approach Mother’s Day, I can’t help but pause and honor the legacy they left behind.

They didn’t just raise daughters, sons, granddaughters, and grandsons—they raised worshipers, prayer warriors, and women of deep well-watered faith.

They sowed seeds that are still bearing fruit in me.

And so I carry my mother’s lessons in my bones shaped by the wisdom of my grandmothers. I remember:

• When the fridge was nearly empty and payday felt too far away, “It Is Well,”*

• When she had to smile for us while her own heart quietly broke, “It Is Well,”*

• When the bills came faster than the child support, “It Is Well,”*

• When loneliness crept in after bedtime stories, “It Is Well,”*

Even in the fire, she chose to believe.

And now, I find myself uttering those same words through my own fire 🔥 situations, It Is Well.

The Soundtrack of Survival

I often find myself in a spontaneous praise break, resurrecting the hymns of my childhood. The ones that didn’t just fill churches—they filled me. They held my hand when no one else could. They wrapped my soul in scripture when my Bible felt too heavy to hold. These songs were theology set to melody, and they carried me through.

Whether it was:

• “He Has Made Me Glad” — a declaration of joy that defies circumstance. When sorrow tried to take root, this song reminded me to enter His gates with thanksgiving anyway.

• “Victory in Jesus” — the battle cry I whispered when everything around me felt like a loss. It reminded me that I am not fighting for victory, but from it.

• “And He Walks With Me” — the melody I leaned into when I felt forgotten. It reminded me that God is near, walking beside me even in the fire.

• “Blessed Assurance” — my anchor when doubt crept in. This song reminded me I was not forsaken. I was known.

• And then there was “It Is Well with My Soul” — the hymn that didn’t just visit me in the fire, it sat down in it with me.

These weren’t just songs. They were declarations.

They reminded me that worship is warfare, and praise is a protest against despair.

And here’s what I’ve come to know deep in my soul:

Our praise becomes our prayers.

Our worship—offered in whatever fire life throws our way—moves the hand of God.

It silences the voice of the enemy.

It smothers the embers of fear and doubt that try to creep in as we surrender all to Him.

Hands lifted high.

Eyes closed.

Engulfed in the Spirit.

That’s where the fire loses its grip—and where heaven’s power begins to move.

When a Hymn is Forged in Grief

And perhaps no song better captures that power than the very hymn this blog is titled after.

It wasn’t until adulthood that I learned the heartbreaking story behind the hymn that has carried so many of us through our darkest nights.

We sing “It Is Well with My Soul” as a balm, a comfort, a declaration—but few know the fire that birthed it.

Horatio Spafford wrote these words after experiencing a grief most of us can’t imagine. In 1873, his wife and four daughters were aboard a ship crossing the Atlantic when it collided with another vessel and sank. All four daughters died. Only his wife survived.

As Spafford sailed to meet her, the ship’s captain pointed out the area where his daughters had drowned. It was there, in that deep sorrow and sacred space, that he penned the lyrics:

“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.”

He didn’t write those words from safety.

He wrote them from within the storm.

This wasn’t a hymn of hindsight—it was a hymn of holy defiance.

A declaration that sorrow wouldn’t have the final say.

That grief could sit beside peace, and faith could still rise.

“It Is Well” doesn’t gloss over pain.

It teaches us how to walk through it—hand in hand with a God who doesn’t abandon us in the fire.

In the Midst of It All

This month, Faith in the Fire is our anchor theme—because let’s be honest: faith doesn’t mean you won’t face the fire. It means you won’t face it alone.

Psalm 29:11 reminds us:

“The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace.”

And peace isn’t the absence of the storm. It’s the presence of the Savior within it.

Activating Your Faith When Fire is Engulfing You

We often think faith is passive—just believing quietly. But when the fire rages, faith must be activated.

Just like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in Daniel 3, who stood firm when everyone else bowed. They didn’t just hope for deliverance—they declared that even if God didn’t save them, they would still trust Him.

And because of that faith, God stepped into the furnace with them.

Let me remind you:

• God doesn’t always pull you out of the fire immediately.

• Sometimes, He gets in it with you—so you can walk out not even smelling like smoke.

This is mustard-seed faith grown up. This is the kind of trust that makes fear flee.

Proverbs 12:25 says:

“Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up.”

Let faith be the kind word you speak to your anxious heart today.

Sacred Reflection

Let’s Sit With This:

When the fire gets close, what rises up in you? Panic? Praise? Resistance? Reflection?

Journal Prompt:

“What fires am I walking through right now—and how is God walking with me? Where am I declaring ‘It Is Well,’ and where am I still holding my breath?”

Download the printable Sacred Reflection Journal Page to meditate on:

Isaiah 58:11 • Psalm 29:11 • Proverbs 12:25 • Jeremiah 17:14

Healing in the Kitchen: Lemon Bars

Because sometimes healing looks like worship, and sometimes it looks like dessert.

These lemon bars are tart, sweet, and easy—like a burst of sunlight on a hard day.

They remind me that joy is sacred, too.

We are all walking through something—some fires visible, some quietly burning beneath the surface.

For some, it’s grief that lingers behind forced smiles.

For others, it’s the weight of provision, the ache of loneliness, or the silent heaviness of depression and anxiety—those invisible fires that try to convince you you’re alone, unloved, unseen.

But let me tell you this:

To be held by the Father in the midst of it all?

That is the gift.

Not the absence of pain, but the presence of peace.

Not the guarantee of easy days, but the unwavering truth that you are never walking alone.

Jeremiah 17:14 says:

“Heal me, Lord, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for you are the one I praise.”

Even in the fire—He is still worthy.

Even when nothing feels well—He is.

So today, let your soul be held.

Let your fears be whispered into His chest.

Let the tears fall, and let worship rise.

Because even here, even now—it is well.

Prayer for the Journey

Lord,

Thank You that even in the fire, You are faithful. Thank You that when sorrow rolls in like sea billows, You anchor us in peace. Teach us to declare “It Is Well” not just as a phrase—but as a faith posture.

Heal our anxious hearts. Strengthen our weary hands.

And walk beside us through every furnace, until we rise again—refined, restored, and still singing.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

For every mother who’s ever fought the fire with prayer and praise—this is for you.