This first letter is going to be difficult to send via the USPS. I am going to trust that God of all people doesn’t need the postal service to get it from me!

Dear God,

I am only now really coming to know you for who you are. You know infinitely (no pun intended) a lot more about me than I know about you. You’ve known I was coming. I’m sure you’ve probably wondered what took so long. Not that you didn’t already know this, but sometimes the haze takes a while to lift. What I would like to do is offer a couple of expressions of thanks, a few apologies and then ask for your help in a couple of areas.

Thank you, immensely, for being patient with me. You’ve removed my doubts, my fears and have permitted me to end my quest for validation from others. You found me when I needed you most. I was helpless and hurting, yet very much hungry from my own lack of spiritual feeding myself, but you became my provision. Finally, Jesus’ words are making sense.

Thank you, also, for opening my eyes to the joys of life. You have given me friends and family for which I am so grateful. These relationships are teaching me about you in unimaginable ways. Thank you for giving me the joy of marriage and fatherhood. I am still trying to figure both of them out, but it feels good to know I am on the right course.

Thank you for the offering in Jesus. It had to be painful to behold. I can’t imagine letting my son experience what to me is unthinkable, but what he did has made a difference. With the resurrection you sealed the victory. I can’t repay you. I can’t thank you enough, but I can give my life in the only way you want and I know how.

I am sorry that for so long I resisted what you really wanted from me.  You wanted my whole heart and I only gave you only a part of my mind. I was scared of being vulnerable. It was wrong. It was extremely shallow.

I am sorry that I have not been an answer to Jesus’ prayer in John 17. It pains me, that of all the prayers that Jesus uttered, that is one of the unanswered ones. That has to hurt.

I am sorry that my level of communication with you has been infantile. For too long I uttered words thinking you would never respond. I don’t know what I was doing, but I am certain it wasn’t what you envisioned for prayer.

Look God, I know you don’t need me to tell you this but because we are friends I know you don’t mind. Things are really messed up around here, both in the world and in the church. Shake things up down here please. Help us to come to our senses. Help us not ignore the pain people are experiencing. Help us to quit being wrapped up in ourselves. We need to be shook up in a bad way.

It’s time for me to get to work, so I need to draw this to a close, but let me close by asking that you continue to be patient with me and my family. I began the letter by thanking you for your patience with me and I want to close it by requesting the same. I am trying to do what’s within my power to work out my own salvation with fear and trembling, so that you can work with me as you see fit. Please, just be patient with me as you do!

Hope to hear from you soon!

Doug

P.S. Did Adam and Eve have bellybuttons?

I will resume posting on Monday with letter #1.

Doug

A sublimely rich quality of the New Testament is the fact that the books themselves are in the form of letters. Some were to churches, others were to individuals in particular, but the fact that they are letters means they carry with them an immensely personal touch.

For example, consider Paul’s letter to Philippi. His personality and love for a church that loved him is obvious from the first few lines. “I thank my God in all my remembrances of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, because of your partnership with in the gospel from the first day until now” (Philippians 1:3-4). That says it all for me. I think it would have been no insignificant thing to have been such an intimate part of the prayer life of Paul. His love for his Philippian family was able to be expressed through a sentimental letter and in more ways that just one he conveys his thoughts about them.

Consequently, I have a desire to use “letters” to express sentiments to some to a few of my family and friends. I am in the process of writing each a letter that will be posted on this site, but also printed and mailed to each one. My prayer for those about whom I write is that they know how I feel about them. My prayer for other who might read them is that they find the desire to let those they really care about know it too!

I mowed the grass for the first time in months the other day and along the way I noticed something; my mower blades need sharpening. Good thing I have a grinder that my father gave me a couple of years back. All they need are nice, new edges and they’ll be back to cutting grass blades, instead of shredding them, in no time. I just need to remember to shut the grinder off when I’m done.

You see, for a while now I’ve been subconsciously grinding away on another grinding wheel. In the world of idiomatic expressions, having “an axe to grind” is to aim at something either selfishly or with ulterior motives. Mine, without question, has been selfishness.

I’m no longer the person I use to be. I’ve parted company with a mindset that use to define me and apparently this hasn’t set well with some. I’ve lost friends over it, which in turn doesn’t set well with me. I don’t like what has become of my situation. But it is what it is.

I want badly for people to understand, but I’ve come to believe that this isn’t necessarily what people want. They want to know but not understand. They want facts but not comprehension. Knowing facts and comprehension simply aren’t the same thing. 

Reaffirmed is the fact that no one, especially me, can make people understand. I sense that such is what I’ve been trying to do, but today I am shutting down the wheel. I’ve grown weary of the sparks that fly all over the place. I am tired of the sounds of the grind itself. I’ve pulled the plug on the grinder.