It Can Be Well With My Soul (Even When it is Not Well With My Body)

This post was originally published as part of Kayleon Dortch-Elliot’s Notes in the Margin Series.

It is well.

The words seemed to taunt me as they ricocheted off the walls of my tiny Baptist church. I blinked back the tears swelling in my eyes, as my mind recounted the year behind me: appointments, scopes, scans, an unhelpful catch-all diagnosis, diets upon diets, and a medication that made it all worse. No, all was not well. My freshman year of college felt like my life was spiraling out of control as chronic pain and seemingly unsolvable health concerns took center stage. 

I stood there, back in the safety of my home and community after a long year…and nothing felt the same. Home couldn’t provide the solace I longed for when my body was racked with pain. And this song I used to love felt like a lie as it escaped my lips.

With my soul.

With my soul. Wait a second. My mind flashed back to a vague memory of someone telling me the story behind this song.

These were not words penned in plenty. They were a declaration of strength in the depths of sorrow.

I foggily remembered hearing about the life of Horatio Spafford, the hymn writer who lost his four daughters in a tragic shipwreck. He was supposed to be with them, but had been delayed due to business, so he sent his wife and daughters ahead, planning to join them shortly. Instead, he received this telegraph from his wife:

"Saved alone, what shall I do?" (source) Horatio took a later ship to meet his grieving wife. As he sailed over the place where the Ville du Havre had gone down with his daughters, he penned 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.

Suddenly my troubles seemed small. Not insignificant — pain is pain, after all. But this wasn’t a song about surface-level peace. It was about a hope that remains even when everything else is stripped away. A quiet, unwavering strength deep in the soul — the kind I desperately needed in the middle of my own pain.

If Horatio could pen these words in the face of his tragedy, certainly I could sing them in the midst of mine.

For it can be well with my soul, even when it is not well with my body.

 Philippians 4:7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.