Letter of Love

Letter of Love
T. Suzanne Eller

"And because we are his children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, prompting us to call out, Abba, Father." Galatians 4:6 (NLT)

Devotion:
I have only scraps now. Words penned on paper when I was a teen. I was a new Christian, trying to live my faith in a house of chaos. My mom was broken. My dad hid behind a newspaper, calling out words like "you belong in a loony bin" to my mother, spiraling her deeper into the abyss of rage and hopelessness.

I lived in parallel worlds. One, my very fractured home. And the second, a world of faith where people loved Jesus, and their lives reflected that love. Church was more than a building to me. It was a sanctuary, a shelter, from the roller coaster existence at home. I spent hours in the altar, weeping -- not out of grief, or self-pity -- but because I had discovered the most amazing truth: God is.

Two years after my encounter with Christ, I found a letter on my pillow.

Dear Suzie, I've watched you and I know what you have is real. It's a treasure, and I hope you hang on to it. . .

I sat on the edge of the bed and read through the rest of the letter, amazed. It was penned by my dad. A man who did not know how to express his feelings very well. A man who had faced his own demons growing up, and who believed that love was putting food on the table and going to work every morning at 7 a.m.

I look back now through the mirror of time and I see two adults, younger than I am now, who struggled. My mom with pain. My dad with the inability to know how to help. But that letter was a ray of light. I keep the tattered pieces because it came at a time that I needed it. I was praying often for my family, but came home to the same old mess day after day. I often thought about running away from home, but I ran after Jesus instead, all the while longing for my parents to discover what I had found.

My father never said a word about the letter left on my pillow. But he was baptized the next year. He and my mother started attending church. It was a long, hard road, but over time my mother was healed emotionally. Her smile came back, and it was beautiful.

In the 30 years that have passed, I've been reading another letter from a father -- my Heavenly Father.

The Bible has become an ongoing communication between me and Jesus. I don't know how many times I've sat with the Bible in my hands, and felt an encouraging word or a corrective nudge. A command to overcome, or a promise that I'd never have to do it alone. It's not specifically written to me, but the Holy Spirit marks it with my name as He reveals truth.

Just when I need it. Just when I've been praying for direction. Just when I've felt that my faith was running on empty.

Can I be honest? There are times I have allowed that precious Letter to sit idle. I've pushed it to the side, glancing at it as I passed, knowing I'd "get to it" later. And yet one day I realized the Bible is just as precious and affirming as those tattered pieces from my earthly father. In fact, the words are very much the same. I find in Scripture that Jesus knows what I've been feeling, but He reminds me that He sees me. He affirms that I have discovered real treasure, and encourages me to hang on to it, even in the hard times. Especially in the hard times.

Maybe it's been a long time since you picked up your Letter of Love. I pray that today that you'll pick it back up, hold it in your hands, and read it for the first time all over again.

Dear Father, You know my pressures. You know my shortcomings. Thank You that You know what I need. Restore the joy of my salvation today. Restore my hunger to communicate with You. Thank You for Your letter of love to me. I ask that Your Holy Spirit take Your word and mark my life with it. In Your Loving Name, Amen.