As a friend went through end-stage renal disease, I began to ask her, each time I saw her, “How is it with your soul?” The usual greeting, “How are you?” had ceased to be meaningful. I knew that she often did not feel well. I knew that her prognosis wasn’t good. I knew that she would likely not live much longer. She was, however, a woman with a powerful spirit, a love of life, and a love of other people that showed even when she wasn’t feeling well. We belonged to the same progressive church where many liberal thinkers and political activists surrounded us. We discovered that we had a mutual love for gospel songs, some of which were not commonly sung in our liberal church. Once, she asked me if I knew “Peace like a River.” I know at least two songs that have that name, but I guessed and sang to her:

“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.”

Her eyes lit up as she sang along. Not long afterward, there was a party in her honor. There were pies and other delicious foods. There were lots of friends, many from our church. A singing group brought guitars and blended their voices with some lively tunes. The group asked her if she had any requests. She requested the hymn we had sung together. No one in the group knew it, however. She announced that I could sing it. And so I did. I’ve memorized a lot of hymns, and with a bit of stumbling on the second verse, I got through the hymn from memory.

When she died, I was asked to sing the song with that group for her memorial service. I couldn’t refuse. I am no stranger to the ceremonies and traditions of funerals. I have played taps in honor of many people who have died. I have delivered eulogies at hundreds of funerals. I have officiated at hundreds of graveside ceremonies. I have served as a pallbearer dozens of times. But I have only been the soloist at one funeral. I enjoy singing and have sung in several choirs throughout my life, but I don’t consider myself to be a soloist. It might be the only time I am asked to sing at a funeral.

The story of “It Is Well with My Soul,” by Horatio Spafford, is well-known and can be easily found with an Internet search. The author of the poem that became the hymn experienced a great deal of tragedy in a short amount of time, and the story of the hymn is often told and touches the hearts of those who hear it.

The question, “How is it with your soul?” has become an essential part of my connections with others. I had used it a lot before my friend’s illness. The global COVID-19 pandemic resulted in many occasions where it was the appropriate question. I suppose I could have asked, “How are you holding up?” or some other related question. I knew people were hurting. I knew they were lonely during periods of isolation. It didn’t seem like a time for trivial conversation.

The worst of the pandemic may be behind us. It is difficult to know for sure or to anticipate what new diseases will crop up now that competent physicians and scientists have been replaced by a crackpot pseudo scientist and a television actor as the U.S. Health Secretary and administrator of the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid. It is the case that we live in troubling times, whether or not a new pandemic is looming.

The rise of fascism and the collapse of democratic rule in our country have occurred at a mind-numbing pace. The blatantly racist policies of the current administration, combined with the lack of human empathy and compassion, have left many in shock. The abuse of the judicial system for the sake of revenge and suppression of dissent is unprecedented. Like others, I often have felt that I need to withdraw from the news to nurture my spirit. I do not, however, choose to withdraw into numbness or denial. Like the words of Spafford’s hymn, I am called to face human tragedy directly.

I don’t use the same language as the hymn when expressing my personal theology. Concepts such as sin nailed to a cross or the Lord descending are not ones I use to express my faith. Despite differences in language, I do, however, appreciate the sense of faith that transcends time and culture. Music has a way of transcending those limits. I don’t have to agree with every word to experience the power of a hymn. The hymn connects me with people of faith in other times and places.

These days, we need to find ways to tend our spirits. We need to recall with gratitude those who have taught us and helped us form our faith. We need to reconnect with faith, hope, and love. We need to ask ourselves and each other how it is with our souls. When a song can help, I will continue to sing even though I don’t have the voice of a soloist.