The Love Letter

 "Darling."

His rich voice softly interrupted my thoughts, like a leaf gently dropping onto the face of a still lake. I sighed a little. All day, I had been trying to avoid him so I could read my first-edition novel, but he had been following me, asking me the same question, over and over. "Please come and sit with me." Yes, I loved him dearly; but he always wanted me to spend time with him on his schedule, not mine. Sometimes I just didn't feel like talking to him.


"Darling?"

This time I sighed audibly and looked up. He was kneeling beside me, his whole face glowing with tenderness and love, holding a letter in his hands. "Darling, I wrote this for you. It's a gift, just for you. I've worked on it for years, adding a little each day, working on it long into the night sometimes, just to make sure it was absolutely perfect for you. Vicki, my beautiful bride, I love you so much. Please, come sit with me for a little while and read it. Won't you?"

I looked longingly back at my novel, and irritation stirred in my heart; but I tried to hide it with a pasted-on smile. "All right, dear. I'll come, but just for a little while."

I guiltily noticed the unmasked joy on his face as he bounded to his feet and took my hand in his, leading me out into the garden and settling me carefully underneath a blooming grape arbor. It was a beautiful golden evening. And he certainly was beautiful in the rosy light, with those sparkling blue eyes and that sensitive face so full of life. I grimaced at the familiar guilty, stabbing need to know him better than I did. I could feel the vast depths of his intelligence and character every time I was near him, like a mysterious forest waiting to be explored, and many times I could barely breathe for the need to know more about that beautiful heart and mind; but there were always so many other things to do ...

"Here, Vicki," he said eagerly, offering me the letter. "Please read it. I can't wait any longer."

I glanced at my watch. I could spare five or ten minutes. But the letter was long, I realized with dismay as I took it in my hands and felt how thick it was. Well ... I'd just have to read quickly.

I skimmed over the pages as fast as I could. The phrases I caught were beautiful - "beloved ... sacrifice anything for you ... forgive all the times you've hurt me ... your rapturous beauty ... how I long to hold you in my arms and keep you safe from everything that would ever hurt you ... cannot wait for the day when you will be my bride ... yours only and forever". 

But I really didn't catch much of the letter. Time was ticking away, and I mostly skipped the last few pages, hoping my smile looked heartfelt as I looked up and handed the letter back to him.

"Thank you, my love," I said, trying to put sincerity into my voice. "That was beautiful."

He looked eager for a moment, but he saw through my falsehood almost immediately, and the light in his eyes died. "I'm so glad you liked it," he said quietly, and folded the letter slowly before slipping it back in his pocket.

"I did," I said quickly, glancing at my watch again. Ten minutes were finally up! I smiled and took his hand for a moment. "May I read it again sometime?"

He smiled sadly and avoided my eyes. "Of course. Anytime. Just ... let me know when you have time. I'll be here."

"Thank you, darling!" I kissed him briefly on the cheek and hurried away, back to my novel at last. I couldn't wait to see how it ended!

***

Wow.

I want you to insert your favorite guy into this story for a minute. I wrote it with Tom Hiddleston in mind, because he is the celebrity crush that I value the most for his intelligence, cultured air, old-fashioned education, and tragically poetic good looks; and I want you to do the same thing - this story is about your husband, your boyfriend, or your most treasured literary/movie crush. Or, if you'd rather, make it about your brother or your father and ignore the romantic parts. But regardless, think for a moment of the man whose love you value more than any other.

Would you treat him this way?

I hope not. I know not.

Who would rather read a stale old novel than a handwritten love letter from _______________ [insert your man here]? I would burn all my novels rather than miss one word of any letter from Tom Hiddleston, romantic or otherwise. I would drop everything I was doing just to sit in silence and listen to him talk for even an hour. I would treasure such a letter or such an hour for the rest of my life, daily rereading the words he'd written for me, telling all of my friends and family about the incredible treasure I possessed.

So why do I treat the Lord the exact same way that ungrateful girl treated her lover?

I have a love letter from the One Who created me - the One Who designed my body with its gray eyes and crooked smile, the One Who shaped my personality with all its unpredictable ups and downs, the One Who wrote the entire story in which I am an integral character. The One Who loved me more than any romance hero ever could when He was lashed, beaten, torn, spat on, and brutally nailed to a cross to purchase my freedom from the kingdom of darkness.

He wrote me such a letter. A letter that tells me I am valued, cherished, and beautiful because I belong to Him. Not only did He write it, but He wants to sit with me as I read it, watching my face, answering my questions, and reassuring my doubtful heart that He really means everything He says.

Think about that! This isn't just some man who will be gray and fat and grouchy in a few years! This is GOD, the eternal Ruler of the Universe, the One Who commands the lightning and the rain, the One from Whom all the powers of darkness flee in terror! And He wants to spend time with you! And with me! And we act like the girl in the story, exasperatedly watching our clocks until "devotion time" is over and we can hand the letter back to Him and get back to whatever petty things we were doing!

May God forgive me for my apathy, idolatry and worldliness!

~ Vicki