Letter from God

Earlier this week, my beloved posted “A letter from God to her daughters who observe Lent.” It received an astonishing response – most of it powerfully appreciative. Clearly there’s a thirst for the good news Barb shared.

A few folks asked if she had a “letter to God’s sons” to offer. Her response, essentially, was that she did not; the letter to God’s daughters was what was given to her to share. Someone else would have to discover a letter to God’s sons. (That said, I’m well convinced that there’s good news for God’s sons in her letter all the same.)

As it happens, a letter to God’s sons has come to me. Perhaps I can offer this for them (with the hope that there’s good news there for all God’s children):

Dear Son,

Let me be very clear about this at the outset: I love you so much. (I know that’s a bit mushy. But it has to be said.)

I love you so much. I have adopted you as my own. And the bond between us is indissoluble.

Indissoluble. I love that word. It means I delight in you. I cherish you. For ever.

I remember the day you were born. You’ve held a newborn baby. Think about that astonishing moment … to hold something so wonderful and so terrifyingly fragile. That’s how I feel about you. Always have. Always will.

And don’t get me started on puppies. They’re so adorable. And so are you!

So here’s the thing … you don’t have to earn your way into my good favor. You don’t have to prove anything to me … or to anyone. Not even yourself. You are my beloved.

You don’t hear that enough, I know. You are assaulted by advertising at every turn – voices always stirring up in you a sense of deficiency and inadequacy. As if a new car or a new head of hair or a new energy drink or a good portfolio could fix what ails you.

But I promise you, you don’t need to look better to look good enough. You don’t have to be stronger to be strong enough. I hope you don’t think me vain, but I made you in my image … and that’s good enough in my book.

Your politics play on your fears, as if the world cleaves neatly between “us” and “them.” But here’s the thing: every person you’ll ever meet in this world is another one of my children … just one of your siblings you haven’t met yet.

 Your politicians run for office, telling you they can protect you from all that threatens you and those you love. But they can’t.

The world is imperfect. Violence erupts all over. Accidents happen all the time. People get sick – and die – every day. Nobody can protect you from all that.

I know you don’t like it. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is.

The trick is not to spend all your time and energy keeping yourself safe and warm. The trick is to help each other whenever things go wrong.

And know this: I am with you. Always.

That’s one of the reasons I sent Jesus to live among you. I want you to notice the life he lived. He suffered the same trials and tribulations as you. He was rejected and abused in the worst ways a man could be treated, yet he never retaliated in kind.

And after you did your worst, I raised Jesus from the dead to demonstrate to you that my love is more powerful than all the hate in the world, that life is more powerful than death.

You know, there is one thing you could do for me. You could turn to your neighbor from time to time and tell them what I’m telling you. Say to them, “God loves you.”

This season of Lent, I hope you’ll find some time to remember these things.

And know that I need you. You’re the only you I created. So, please, let yourself be the creation I made you to be. You don’t need someone outside yourself telling you how to live. Trust yourself. Trust your heart. Trust me. I’ve got you.

 All my love,

God