Growing up I listened to a lot of Adventures in Odyssey. And one of the episodes that always stuck with me was the one that told the story of Horatio Spafford, the author of the hymn, It is Well with My Soul. As the episode of Odyssey explains, Spafford wrote the song after all four of his daughters drowned during a shipwreck. The story stuck with me because it gave the lyrics new depth. They weren’t just pretty words penned for church, they were the heartfelt cries of a man who knew sorrows like rolling sea billows.

We sang, It is Well with My Soul on Sunday at church. It was fitting because the second candle/week of Advent is sometimes (at least in our church’s observation) called the “peace” candle. And the song talks about peace through the unpredictability of life and how that peace is ultimately found in the resting hope we have in Jesus and what He accomplished for us on the cross. Dwelling on peace was an apropos start to the week because if I’m honest, things have been anything but peaceful. Remembering Christ’s work on the cross reminded me that even if life’s hard and heavy and isolating right now, my hope isn’t in anything of this world, but in my Savior, who’s birth we celebrate this holiday season.

Hope in Jesus has made these last few months survivable. It feels like there’s just been an onslaught of stretching and growing and frankly, heavy pain. We’ve struggled with various health concerns, we’re waiting on specific dreams to come to fruition, we’ve weathered serious financial stress, continue to bear the pain of broken family relationships that seem to have no hope, and tangentially — many of our friends and family are suffering through a whole host of things that we are bearing with them. But even through of all of it, hope has shone bright. Peace has come in the small moments and slowly but surely, joy is breaking through supernaturally.

It doesn’t make sense, in the midst of so much sadness, to be filled with joy. But it’s also impossible not to be full of it when you remember that our sins have been forgiven and we’ve been welcomed into the Kingdom of God.

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!

Life is hard. In our own lives, in the lives of those around us, and in the world. Pain and sorrow are running rampant and the only thing that I know that can bring life is the Gospel.

In many ways I am woefully unprepared for this Christmas season. I have a whole host of to-dos and decorations to still put up and cookies to bake and movies to watch and the lists go on and on. But in a way, I don’t think my heart has ever been more prepared. This year, it’s really not about the commercialism at all. This year, Christmas is the most precious reminder of hope, peace, joy, and ultimately love. This year, I’m placing the burdens of the year, the sorrow, unmet dreams and desires, the hopes for 2022 and I’m placing them at the feet of the greatest gift of all. This year, I’m opening myself up to His daily gifts, holy moments that are sprinkled throughout the day, and reveling in all His wonderful goodness.

Life is hard. The world is broken. People are often unreasonable and unkind. Church is not perfect. But God is good. He is faithful. His mercies are new every morning. In Him we find peace, eternal hope, the source of joy, and perfect love. Love that is unmatched by anything.

My life may be anything but peaceful but my Savior is pouring out His love in new and wonderful ways this season and I feel like a kid on Christmas morning every single day. That’s the beauty of the Gospel; it’s constant, life transforming work, that makes every day feel like Christmas and redeems all things. It’s because of the Gospel that we can say, “It is Well” even in the face of intense pain.