A letter from Jesus

Hello, my child.

I just wanted you to know that you’re doing alright. You’re so hard on yourself and you still hold fast to that tendency of yours to assume that if something isn’t perfect, then it’s not good enough. Well, I alone am perfect. Try and remember that, will you?

I see how hard you’re trying. I’ve noticed. I’ve noticed that you whisper my name under your breath when faced with a situation that upsets you; whether you’re anxious, angry or confused. I hear it when you scream it in your head or exhale it in a sigh. I hear, and I am there. Think, now, you have noticed me too, haven’t you?  You’re learning that it really does make a difference.

All your life, I’ve been leaving you little notes, now and again. Little things that you’ll understand. You’re getting better at noticing and interpreting them and it delights me when you do. I see your pleasure and it pleases me.

I understand that you see me more easily in some things than others – I know that lions remind you of Aslan from CS Lewis and you think straight away of me. I know that when you see a rainbow you think of my promise not to flood the world again. When you see a sunset, a mountain range or lightning you are awed and you reflect on my glory.

I hear your overwhelmed words of gratitude when you gaze at your children (particularly when they’re asleep!) and it makes me smile. You’re recognising more and more that the things you have are blessings from me.

I saw you on your stomach on the lawn the other day taking a photograph of a butterfly in the grass, and I saw you stop to point out a tiny flower growing between the pavers on the road. I love it that your daughters know now that their Mummy wants to stop and notice and take pictures of those little messages that I leave in your path.

I hope that one day they too will understand they are gifts from me. Make sure that you tell them.

I don’t miss a single thing, my love, and to see you appreciate those little tokens of beauty and love that I leave for you makes my heart swell.

It’s good to notice.

You’re doing well, but I want you to notice much more.

There is so much more. I am visible in subtleties as well as grandeur. And this is a hard one: I am there in the clouds as well as the sunlight. Anyone can smile when all around them is warm and happy; I want you to learn to notice my presence in the darkness as well as the light.

I am there when you’re at the end of your tether after a day when you have been unable to find a moment to yourself. I am there when you sit and chew your fingers regretting the thing that you’ve just said or done. I am there when you feel at odds with the world, when you feel that you spend your life trying to make others happy, and when you complain who is caring for you?  I am there, too, and I’m caring.

I want you to learn to find me in those situations as well as the moments of tranquility and joy. It’s a real sign of maturity when you choose to trust me in the middle of pain or confusion or depression, and it’s time for you to learn to be better at it. There are still things to be thankful for in the most miserable of circumstances.

Try to find those things. Look carefully, and I promise you that you will find them. I will help you if necessary, until you get the hang of it.

The thing is, something special happens when you reach for me at times like that. I am right there to be found, just as I am when you’re on your mountain top, breathing in the vista with a smile on your face. I am always there, close by, arms outstretched.

Feelings are deceptive, you know. Sometimes you need to make a decision to act even when you don’t feel like it. I know that you don’t particularly want to hear that as you are led by your feelings, but I know that you understand the truth of it. It’s a hard thing to learn, but you can do it.

When you take hold of me in faith when you don’t feel any positive emotion at all – that gives me an opportunity to pull you closer. When you find it in you to lift your praises when you feel more like cursing, or when you thank me when you don’t feel thankful, those are the times when I see how much more like me you are growing.

Don’t get hung up on this. I know that you’ll read these words over and over and berate yourself for not being able to do it, bringing up every occasion you can think of where you failed. I don’t keep a track of those times. I see every effort you make; every time you lift your eyes or your hands and every time you take a step forward you make me smile. There’s a long way to go, and there’s more to see than you can imagine.

I have so much for you, but if I gave it to you all at once, you wouldn’t cope. Take it one step at a time. I’m walking with you, remember, and I never get tired.

I am proud of you, little one.

You’re doing fine.

With my love


About Helen Murray

I'm a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister and a child of God.

2 Responses to A letter from Jesus

  1. Beautifully worded and encouraging . . . but the best part is that it is TRUTH.
    Praise God for the REALITY of a relationship with the living, loving Saviour!

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