The Power In The Blessing
A few years ago I was in Russellville, Ark., and popped into the only open spot in Hardee's parking lot. Glancing around, I recognized the older couple in the car beside me as Mr. and Mrs. Faber Woodruff. We had once gone to the same church in Conway but didn't really know each other.
As an entrée to these relative strangers, I introduced myself with a story told about Mr. Woodruff by Gilbert Baker, a mutual friend and now our state senator. Just the week before, Gilbert had praised Mr. Woodruff's consistent reminders that our words are far more important than we realize. With them we bless and curse and literally set the course of our lives.
The Woodruffs seemed a bit downcast, having suffered continuing trials and disappointments during that phase of their lives. But hearing that his words had not been forgotten encouraged Mr. Woodruff. Though unseen, the seeds he had planted in another season of life were growing and bearing fruit.
Mrs. Woodruff's mother was 96 then, and they were still involved with her. Though in poor health themselves, their attempts to fulfill their responsibilities challenged me in my own faithfulness toward our profoundly retarded daughter Jenny.
At their request, I prayed for them and the difficulties they faced. Then came the surprise. "And now," Mr. Woodruff confidently announced, "I'd like to bless you before you go." And placing his hands upon my head in the olden manner, he recited these famous words of blessing from the Bible (Numbers 6:25): "The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you. The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace."
Just the day before I had entered a somewhat desperate notation about Jenny in my journal: "I don't really know what to pray for Jenny anymore, for her whole situation seems so hopeless at times."
When I got home, my wife solemnly clasped to her heart the report of what had happened: "Jenny will be OK, one way or another." How could any of us have known that within the month Jenny would die, but Mr. Woodruff's blessing would not? Like a spring of cool water in a parched and weary land, it still bubbles up, infusing hope where hopelessness had reigned.
I later wrote to Mr. Woodruff, "I thank you for your encouragement, the blessing, the faithful example of endurance through difficult, painful trials--and for your prayers."
Truly, life and death are in the power of the tongue. And apt words--either spoken or written--can cast rays of hope into the darkest corners of our lives.
May God bless you all for faithfully reading these columns.
Copyright 2002 James McAlister
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