It Is Well.

“It is well” is a phrase I keep trying to make my heart believe. I admire so deeply when others proclaim this phrase when there’s so much grief and pain in their lives. I have always thought it was my lack of faith that didn’t allow me to believe “it is well” during the hard periods of my life; now, the Spirit is showing me that maybe it’s just a change in perspective.

I’m not sure I believe that in a doctor's office, when the the words “stage four cancer” are said, that news is “well” with the Father. He can’t approve of disease. He can’t be fine about a life-ending diagnosis. I know the Father didn’t long for that pain in my own Dad’s life. I know that’s not His heart. And I think about my family and friends and the trials they’ve faced in divorce, hate, trauma, and loss, and I know surely the Father does not nod his head yes to any of those things. They are all filled with such aching pain and suffering. I’m still processing. Those things are just so very far from the Kingdom’s atmosphere and wholeness. So, I wrestle and doubt, and I feel sad that I feel the doubt, and I struggle in knowing I don’t have the right answer.

And, then, I find it so kind when the Spirit intervenes in my wrestling and is so ready to show me Truth. I was only halfway listening to a shuffled playlist when I heard it. Lauren Daigle sang, “You are here, so it is well,” and instantly my heart began to believe the Lord's presence makes it well with me.

I began to understand what makes the hard, broken, agonizing moments “well.” It’s His nearness, His constant presence, His love.

I've heard you meet God in a new way in the pits of life many times. You appreciate His presence fully because you have nothing else to provide security and hope. I know I can’t appreciate His nearness unless I’m brought up against my worst fear or the worst pain I’ve ever felt. It was in the very depth of that pit as I watched my Dad lose a too-fast battle with stage four cancer that I had nothing but God's nearness to help me make it through one more day. I don’t think you can fully grasp the gift and grace of His presence until you’re in the deepest, darkest suffering of your life. It’s His presence that becomes the breath inside of you when cancer, death, and divorce feel all too much like a punch to the stomach. Could I really believe “it is well” even when my heart is in a million pieces? My spirit is telling me yes.

words and photo by Caitlin Emmrich