Author: Loyd Jenkins
Could we with ink, the ocean fill
And were the skies of parchment made
Were every stalk on earth a quill
And every man a scribe by trade
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry
Nor could the scroll contain the whole
Though stretched from sky to sky
—Frederick M Lehman (1948)
These last few weeks I have been compiling and designing our Donor Book. This is a book that highlights some of the impact of our mission around the world. And while engaging in the elements of design and the craft of words, I was overwhelmed at one point thinking about God’s blessings in our lives. How completely amazing they are—that He, so great and Holy, gives us such a steady flow of blessings throughout our lives.
What an absolute honor to write about God’s blessings! How profound is the power of His love that I could do justice in putting to pen words that would be worthy to give Him the glory He deserves. Often when I share things on Facebook, Twitter and other social network streams, about how God has blessed us through our donor friends, I trouble to find which story to tell. Like a child in a candy store, I want to choose them all or at least so many that it would be nearly impossible to count. I also find myself struggling for the right words, how to share the blessing with others in a way that wouldn’t diminish the beauty of the thing.
More and more I find myself merely praying simple prayers of just being an empty vessel to what God would have me share. At times I recognize that I’m given the freedom to choose a story, any story—because they all abound with God’s blessing. And yet other times I can feel a more urgent need — that wells within — and I know by faith that the story that moved me so is the one to be told at that time.
Not every story is filled with compelling drama and moving emotion, but in each you can find God blessing us with gifts that we receive and then again blessing us by giving those gifts to those who desperately need them. What awesome power I’ve experienced in the simplest of things — God’s still, small voice: in the gaze of a man who’s lost everything in a weather disaster and sees the hope of Jesus told by a brother; in the tears of a mother who’s lost a child to a treatable illness; in the whispers of the faithful that pray for healing for a soul that doesn’t know Christ.
To experience these things and share them with you, I am truly and deeply blessed. To God be the glory!
(About the lyrics above, an excerpt from The Love of God: The hymn has significant history, derived from a Jewish poem composed in 1096 about the giving of the Ten Commandments. The hymn is also wrapped in mystery regarding which miracles it truly had been written about, and interestingly the 3rd stanza—of the poem—was penciled on the wall of an insane asylum where it is thought that a crazed inmate had written the epic in moments of sanity.)