Love Letters to the King

Welcome to my parable devotional series, Love Letters to the King. If you are new to the Love Letters, click here to find out more.

Again, this is an older letter that has been revised and expanded. I was going to post a new one but this letter hit close to home today, so I decided to post it. I'd love to hear what you think. And, don't forget to come back Monday as I'll be starting a new fictional series, The Kingdom.

Hope you enjoy.

Love Letter to the King:

They were waiting for me, my Lord.

Never have I been so aware of your absence until I was in their presence.

A hidden predator in our garden, they set a trap to ensnare me. I had come to the garden to meet with you, but instead I found your enemies. Or rather, they found me.

There, beneath the Willow tree, I was waiting. Staring at the lake, I was unaware of the rope beneath my feet. Slapping my ankles, the rope was cinched tight and the force of it knocked me to the ground. I was surrounded. Towering above me, I counted four of them. Their taunts brought fear and confusion. Their feet kicking my body brought pain.

Their leader grabbed my hair and pulled me to my feet. Squeezing my face, he demanded I tell them where you were. I could not betray you, and so I did not answer.

Their rage grew. I tried to be brave in the midst of the torment, but I could not stop the tears from splashing down my face. They laughed. I cried harder.

Becoming impatient, they decided to leave the garden and take me with them. One of them bent down to remove the ropes from my legs while another tied my wrists together. Seizing the moment, I bit the arm of the one in front of me and kicked the one at my feet. With rope dangling in an uncompleted knot from my arms, I ran away from my captors at Dalzure Lake and headed towards the gate.

The screams escaping my throat matched the intensity of the panicked beating of my heart. My captors were not stalled for long. The thumping of their feet on the broken bedrock grew louder and I could feel the heat of their pursuit on the back of my neck. I looked over my shoulder to gauge the distance between me and my enemy, but in doing so I missed seeing you step onto the path from behind the oak trees.

You’d heard my screams. You’d come to my rescue.

At full speed I ran into your chest, but my momentum was absorbed by your sure-footed stance, and your body never budged from the brunt of it. Your arm encircled my waist, lifted me and tossed me to safety behind you. I lay on the ground and watched.

My assailants, still running towards us, drew their swords. So did you. The proportion of your weapon to theirs was monumental. It was a King’s sword, and it held against the force of all four of theirs. The metal clanged with such intensity I had to cover my ears. You pushed your sword against theirs, and your enemies fell to the ground. Jumping to their feet, they regained composure and attacked again.

I cowered in your shadow and watched as the battle ensued. Your sword was swift, your strength unyielding and your fierceness unstoppable. One by one, my enemy thudded to the ground in lumps of unmoving flesh. The stench of sweat and blood filled the air. The battle was over and my King was victorious.

I watched as you returned your sword to its sheath. For a moment, you surveyed the garden making sure there was no other lurking with ill-will as their intent. Once satisfied that the garden was safe, you walked back towards me.

As you knelt beside me, I leapt into your arms and buried my head in your chest. I felt one of your arms wrap around my back while the other slipped beneath my knees. You scooped me up and carried me to the pavilion at the center of the courtyard surrounded by roses.

Placing me on the bench, you walked to the well and drew water. Ripping the hem of your shirt, you wet the rag and returned to me. You washed the dirt from my face and cleansed my wounds.

The compassion in your eyes sequestered my fear, and the healing in your touch defeated my pain. I rested in your embrace, and absorbed your strength for my own.

Kissing my forehead you said, “To this I vow…I will forever watch over you and protect you, Princess.”

I know my Lord. As I will forever take refuge in your shadow, for you are my protector, and forever my King.

Love,

Princess

“A King’s rage is like the roar of a lion, but his favor is like dew on the grass.” (Prov 19:12 NIV)

Love Letters to the King

Welcome to Love Letters to the King. If your new to the letters, you can click here to find out what it's all about.

This week's letter is a revisitation of an older letter. It's been revised and lengthened and I like the result. I'd love to hear what you think. Hope you enjoy.

Love Letters to the King

Do you remember, my Lord?

The first time I entered the garden?

I remember….

Standing in a doorway, sweat dripping from my brow as I swept the front step of my master’s store, your messenger found me.

No words spoken. He leaned from his saddle with a gold-sealed note in his hand. Accepting it, he turned and disappeared into the dust cloud emanating from the horse-trodden cobblestone road.

Alone, in the midst of the crowded village market I stood, a peasant girl in thread-bare clothes holding a note from the King. I slid my finger beneath the pressed wax and broke the seal, revealing the message inside.

Come to me.

Three simple words, and yet life altering. The paper was lead in my hand, and my fingers trembled under the weight of it. My heart skipped a beat, and my brow furled until my forehead hurt.

Why me, my Lord?

With tears free-falling down the hollows of my cheeks, I fell prey to the attack from the enemy within. Feasting on my insecurities the voice whispered its poison into my ear. You’re dirty, used, broken. You cannot go to the King.

But, your note. Come to me. The words jumped off the parchment and grabbing my heart, pulled it from the ebbing tide of my destitution. Hope demanded I obey. I must go to the King.

I released the broom letting it thump on the wooden steps outside my master’s store. Clutching your note to my bosom, I ran. Away from my servitude, away from my village, away from all that was familiar, I ran hard and fast. The chill of the evening’s air burned my lungs, and my breathing grew shallow, but I refused to stop until I reached the wrought iron gate that stands as a sentinel at the entrance to the garden.

And, I didn’t. Not until I crashed into the fence, letting the metal bars absorb my momentum. Catching my breath, I lay my head on the cold metal bars and wept.

I wept for the unworthiness of my soul, and for my undesirable condition that I would dare enter into the presence of the King. I flirted with the idea of turning around and heading back to the village, but a ghostly wind blew past me nudging the gate open.

I stepped inside. It was quiet. The leaves of the trees did not rustle in the wind and the cicadas did not serenade the setting sun. The weight of the garden’s silent worship was heavy making it difficult to press forward.

Broken bedrock lay scattered on the ground in a weaving path that led from the fence to a stand of ancient oaks. Passing beneath the trees’ canopy, the path fed into a courtyard of roses. Pausing, I picked a velvety pink rose, pinned it behind my ear and drew in its delicate perfume. Intoxicated, my insecurities subsided.

At the end of the courtyard, the path disappeared into Dalzure Lake. A Willow tree of unnatural proportion stood at the water’s edge. It was there that I found you.

Beneath the draping branches of the Willow, you stood staring at the last of day’s light dancing on the ripples in the water. Peace exuded from you as if it were ripe fruit hanging from a tree. The temptation of partaking from the sweet harvest drew me closer towards you.

I reticently tread the remaining length of the path until I was standing behind the Willow. You did not acknowledge my presence, nor did you remove your gaze from the lake. Staring at your back, I could not help but drink in your form. Shoulders broad with strength, arms that promised a secure embrace and ebony locks of hair that would please the eyes of many a maiden, but it was not that which caught my eye. It was your stature. Your appearance was young, yet your presence held the authority of the ancients. And though your glory seemed to emanate from the pores of your skin so that even the garden worshipped you, there was still a cloak of humility wrapped around you that fostered approachability. Here, standing behind you, my heart was pierced by the realization of how much I wanted and needed you.

I was terrified. I was also excited.

Your note still in my hand, I walked to your side. I bowed my head in respect for you and in shame of me.

Expecting to hear your voice, I felt your hand instead. You lifted my chin with your fingers, and raised my head until my eyes met yours. Meeting your gaze, I could feel you penetrate my soul.

Taking my face in both of your hands, you wiped the tears from my cheeks. “Peasant girl no more,” you said, “from now on, you are my Princess.”

I remember that first day in the garden, my Lord. And, I will never forget.

Love,
Princess

“No longer will they call you Deserted, or name your land Desolate. But you will be called Hephzibah, and your land Beulah, for the Lord will take delight in you…” Is 62:4 (NIV)

Mary's Journal: Joseph

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And now, MJ: Joseph. I hope you enjoy!

Shrouded by your peace, I slept through the night even though Joseph’s response to my condition was still a mystery to me.

At day break, however, doubts crept in once again. Would he divorce me? Would he “out” me to the authorities? The questions lingered in the early morning air like ripened fruit hanging from a tree tempting me to pick and eat.

Despite the crease seared into my brow, I forced a smile and refused to worry about questions to which I had no answer. Instead, I focused on my daily chores.

The hours passed by, and though the sun was not at its peak sweat beaded on my forehead and dampened my clothes. Our small house ensnared the mid-morning heat, causing me to feel as though I were baking in an oven. I went to the door hoping to let in a breeze, but when I reached for the handle someone burst in from the outside.

Jumping back to avoid getting hit by the door, I came face-to-face with Joseph. His skin was flushed, and he spoke in garbled, broken sentences. Grabbing my hands he pulled me close until he aborted the motion, turned and lead me to the chairs by the table instead. For a moment, we sat staring at one another. But, Joseph could not sit still. Pacing one minute and sitting the next, I was unsure whether I should worry or let out the laughter I was stifling. I cast a smile towards my God, and hoped He would bring clarity.

Tiring, Joseph planted himself in a chair and stared at his hands. I held my tongue.

“Gabriel.” Joseph whispered the name and the rest was clear.

Before he could finish his disclosure of the night’s events, I threw my head back and shouted praise unto my Lord. The rising well of emotion within me overflowed as stored up tears broke free and poured down my face. Thank you, my Lord. Thank you.

I fell at Joseph’s feet, grabbed his hands in my mine and let tears drip into his lap. “Do you believe me now?” I asked. “Please say you believe me now.”

Joseph leaned forward and kissed the top of my head. “Yes, beloved. I believe you.”

His words were as honey to my soul. I stayed, grasping his hands and bathing in the warmth of his protection until my legs went numb beneath me.

For the rest of the afternoon Joseph spoke out loud of plans for a quick wedding, and strategy for dealing with people’s gossip, but all I heard was the sound of a thousand answered prayers falling from heaven and landing at my feet as manna did for the Israelites in the desert.

The Lord answered my prayers. I would not walk this road alone. Staring into the face of my betrothed, I was overwhelmed with the fullness of God’s love. In Him and with Him, I shall endure the destiny of my life.

Mary

“…an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, ‘Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” Matthew 1:20-21

May the Lord go before you and make a way where there is no way that you may freely embrace your destiny.

Mary's Journal: Telling Joseph

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And now, Mary's Journal: Telling Joseph

I spoke to Joseph today.

Trembling, I hid my hands beneath me as I sat across the table from him. How do I tell you I’m pregnant with the Son of God? I scanned the room looking for anything that might cause a distraction, and delay this conversation. But, nothing did.

Joseph sat staring. Not knowing why I had called him here or what I was about to say, he bore a stare in me that demanded full disclosure.

Taking a deep breath, I braced for the inevitable. “I’m pregnant.”

In whispers, I recounted Gabriel’s visitation, God’s favor, and my destiny. But, the words soared from my lips and pierced Joseph like arrows hitting a target. With each blow his shoulders slumped lower and his face fell further until his head was buried in his hands and his elbows braced on the table were the only things holding him up.

He did not believe me.

I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs I did not betray you. I would never betray the one betrothed to me by my father, but my screams would do nothing but feed the fire of unsettled emotions already burning within the room.

Instead I confided, “This is good news Joseph.” Using a tone I’d hoped would soothe his broken heart. “I am pregnant with the child of the Most High God. The very child all of Israel has been praying for. This is answered prayer my beloved.”

Joseph was silent. Rising from his chair, he averted his eyes and didn’t once look at me as he left my father’s house.

Fear tapped on the door of my heart, begging to come in. He will divorce you and have you stoned. You do know that. Your child will never see the light of day, and neither will you for that matter. The voice inside my head boomed loud, as though someone or something stood beside me and breathed poison in my ear.

“You’re right.” I said, answering the invisible intruder. “Joseph can rightfully do all those things. But….I choose to trust my God.”

My determination boarded shut the mouth of the intruder, and he fled from my presence. In his absence, your peace poured from heaven and infiltrated my heart, and I knew you would hold me up and renew my strength.

I bowed my head and offered up this prayer.

My Lord, I do not know what tomorrow may bring, but I trust you. And, I trust you with Joseph. Speak to him that he may know the truth. Allow that truth to pass over his mind and penetrate his heart. And, if it is your will, let him walk this path with me. Amen.

I can do nothing now but wait, my Lord.

Mary

“This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit.” Matthew 1:18

May the Lord, who answers prayer, give you the strength, wisdom, and peace to receive His way for working in your life. And, may the Lord protect you “watching over your coming and your going both now and forevermore.” Psalm 121:8 NIV

Love Letters to the King

Welcome to Love Letters to the King. If you are new to my love letters, click here to find out what the mystery is all about.

Click here to read last week's letter.

And now, Love Letters to the King.

My Lord,

My heart had become as coal. Hardened by a fire that was fueled with the misery spawned from my life.

A void of darkness in which I endlessly fell, drowning in a torment of my own making. Used, beaten, cast aside, I learned to shut others out while I protected the wounds that festered within me. The walls surrounding my heart were impenetrable, and I took great care to keep them that way.

And then, I met you.

A message, delivered by a man on horseback, invited me to walk through a door I never knew existed. I entered. And, when I did, I found you waiting for me in the garden.

Your garden. Walking through the wrought iron fence, I shook hands with peace and was wrapped in glory. The trees radiated a green that leapt off the surface of each leaf and fed life to my soul. Their bark was the deepest shade of cocoa, as if the trees had never known the bite of winter. The path, laced with broken bedrock, led me to the lake where I found your willow tree. Used to bowing in worship of you, the branches bent forward and draped to the ground in a canopy of majesty. The sun danced on the surface of the crystal clear water and even though I shaded my eyes, I was unable to see across the length of it. Each breath, drawn deep within my lungs, exhaled the darkness that was left in the wake of my broken past and stored up within me.

No longer impenetrable. No longer clouded in despair. With each visit to the garden, the walls of my heart were dismantled brick by brick. Each visit with you removed pieces of the debris and resurrected that which I had long since buried.

Dead no more.

Now, as I stand below the willow tree, drawing the air into my lungs I realize there is no longer a stinging sensation upon my exhale. The familiar ache that came as my despair was pulled out of me was now a memory. No more pain. Today, I am new. “Thank you.” I whisper, “Thank you for the garden.”

“No, thank you Princess.”

Startled from my solitude, I turn to find you standing a few feet behind me. Staring into your eyes, I’m again swept away by the tide of your passion that flows from somewhere I have yet to travel.

Finding my voice, I ask “My Lord, why say thank you to me?”

I could tell by the lowering of your eyes and the pained smile upon your lips that you were saddened by my response.

“Dear one,” You said, “It is your love for me that awakens this garden to life. The magic does not lie in the trees or in the grass or even in the lake. It lies within you. As your heart grows for me, so does this garden. Therefore, thank you Princess, for believing in me.”

Dipping your head, your hand closed in a fist and landed above your heart as you bowed towards me. As you did, the garden silenced. Neither a bird, nor cricket made a sound. Even the wind slowed as not to wrestle the branches of the trees, all in honor of this moment and of our King.

It was too much to bear.

I ran, throwing myself into you, and forced you to embrace me. “No.” my cry muffled in your chest. “It’s not me. It’s you.”

“Princess, I am always here. As is my garden. But whether or not you see this place is up to you. Many have been invited, but few have ever entered. You, my dear, have chosen wisely. And now, the garden is yours. A gift that I have given to you.”

Your hands lifted my face from your chest before they rested upon my shoulders. Pushing me an arm’s length away, you squared my shoulders and caught the gaze of my eyes. “Now, the question is…What will you do with this gift?”

A smile slid across your lips while a spark flashed from your eyes, and hinted of a much larger mystery, which tickled my mind. With a laugh you turned and headed down the path, away from me.

I watched you, frozen in the flash of your enigmatic prelude. With each step that took you farther down the path, the garden awakened. The birds, again, began to sing and the crickets started their serenade. A faint breeze blew in from the lake and carried on it the words you had spoken from a distance.

“Until tomorrow Princess.”

Yes, my Lord. Until tomorrow. I will be here.

Love,

Your enraptured servant.


“Praise the Lord, all you nations; extol him, all you peoples. For great is his love toward us, and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever. Praise the Lord.” Psalms 117:1-2

May you enter the garden and accept His gift, for His love will not betray but will restore that which has been stolen. You, dead no more, will arise adorned in the love of the King.

Mary's Journal: Overshadowed

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Mary's Journal: Overshadowed

May it be to me as you have said.

This was my “yes” to Gabriel. No sooner had I uttered the phrase then he dissipated from the room as a vapor disappears into the air around it.

Gabriel gone, I was alone with the enemy of my mind. It can’t be. He was an illusion. The ill-seated will of a poor peasant girl. Besides, you are a virgin. How can you become pregnant? You can’t.

The voice inside my head was relentless. It dug its poison like sharp fingernails into my skin and I bled doubt from underneath its tightening grip. How could God choose me? It just can’t be.

Flooded with despair, I crawled to my mat and prayed for sleep to overtake me. With eyes held so tight no tear could fall, I lay underneath my thread-bare blanket with muscles tensed. Waiting for precious slumber to release me from my torment, I was instead flooded by a chilling breeze. It started at my feet and moved up toward my head. As it passed over, it felt as if a metal ball covered with a thousand needles rolled over my skin, pricked me and continued on its course until all my hair was standing on end.

I jolted from my mat. The room was dimly lit with the aura of a million subdued points of light dancing around each other as if miniature shooting stars were piercing the darkness just above my head. I lifted my hand, penetrated the cloud with my fingers, and reached towards the lights. Some stars glided around my hand while others seemed to shoot through it. It tickled, and I could not help but laugh at their random choreography.

It occurred to me that fear should grip my soul, but it could not, for a tangible peace filled the room and covered me like a warm blanket. I drank in the scent of roses, myrrh and fire until I was intoxicated.

In my mind, I heard every thought of doubt that harassed me earlier replayed one phrase at a time. After each one the Lord spoke His truth, causing the infection of distress that had plagued me to unleash its grip and flee.

In the wake of my deliverance, I was left full of the Holy Spirit. It was then that I knew His will had been done. My destiny was underway.

For fear will not embrace me my Lord. Doubt shall not have its way. I am a servant of the Most High, born to love and worship Jehovah, my God. And, I will stand on the promises of heaven.

May it be as you have said.

Yes, let it be as the angel has said. And, let the Son of the God come forth.

Mary

“The angel answered. ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.’” Luke 1:35

May you be overshadowed by the Most High God, for you have been given promises of a destiny, and it awaits you. In that destiny, He will bestow upon you, and equip you with everything needed to fulfill the work of the Lord. May fear be dispelled, and let the yielding of Holy Spirit operate within you that you may become that which God created, a purposed son or daughter of the King.

What is Mary's Journal

Welcome to Mary’s Journal

Mary’s Journal is a series of parable devotions written in first person narrative. My intent is for the reader to feel as though they have stumbled upon a journal written by Mary, mother of Jesus.

As you read my fictionalized version of Mary’s feelings, thoughts and lessons learned, I pray it will bring you closer to the life of Jesus and therefore closer in your walk with Jesus.

Love Letters to the King

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I hope you enjoy this week's letter.







My sin overshadows me.

Like a thick cloak, my shame wraps around me and forbids forgiveness to enter. The weight of it growing heavier with each step, I tread through the garden looking for you, and avoiding you at the same time.

I did not mean to take it as far as I did. The provocation of such a thing seems childish now that it’s behind me. But, the crowd, my Lord. What was I to do? Not defend you?

They did not believe me. The explanation for the glow of my skin, the smile upon my lips, and the light-hearted way in which I now walk. They heralded me with accusations of being bewitched by an unholy incantation, for only that would cause such a change within me.

I told them, my Lord. I told them about you, and about our garden. I left no detail out as I dictated your love in insufficient prose. I tried to explain the part of me that is alive because of you, but they would not listen.

They threw slurs around like poisonous darts that penetrated my soul, and darkened my heart. “It is all in your mind.” They yelled. “A lie of your making used to belittle us. You are no better than we are.”

They are right. I thought, I am no better than any of you. And to some, I am less than that.

Their accusations turned to counsel and their counsel became my beliefs. In an instant, I believed in their version of your truth. As the crowd dissipated, I stood alone. Tears of frustration welled in my eyes. How could I have been so wrong? Shedding my hope, I laid plans to return to my old life. To once again become that which I fought so hard to forget. For, in my mind, it was the only place I could find solace.

Come.

At first, I wasn’t sure I heard it.

Princess, come to me.

The tears that filled my eyes now spilled down my face. My head bowed, I ran towards your garden. Yes, the garden. How could I believe another above you?

Now, walking in our sacred place, I feel the weight of my shame from being so easily persuaded from the truth. My heart, bubbling over with love for you, fears the reprimand that should come, and the sadness that will fill your eyes when you look at me. It is almost too much to bear.

My feet saunter down the path toward the willow tree that stands alone in front of your lake. Head bowed, staring at the broken bedrock, my arms swing mindlessly by my sides in cadence with my footsteps. Intermittent tears trickle to the ground.

From the corner of my eye, a shadow joined me along the path. Footsteps, now audible, fell in rhythm with mine. And, as my arm swung back behind me, your hand grabbed mine and interlaced your fingers into my fingers.

My momentum slowed as we strolled, hand-in-hand, along the path towards the lake.

We stopped at the water’s edge and, fearing the calm before the storm, I braced for your anger. Instead, you smiled. Stepping behind me, you wrapped your arms around my shoulders and pulled me back into your chest.

Your lips brushed my ear as you whispered, “No matter how much you doubt, Princess, I will never leave you nor forsake you. You are mine and mine alone. Call upon me dear one…..I will always answer.”

Your words stung. But just as salve stings before it soothes, your words brought healing as well. My cloak of shame was ripped from me and thrown to the wind. Peace infiltrated my mind and body as I lay engulfed in the security of your embrace.

Under the willow tree by the water’s edge, we stood until the sun was tucked beneath the horizon. And, I wished I could have stayed there forever.

May I never doubt your love again.

Love,
Your enraptured servant.

“…Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” Hebrews 13:5

What are Love Letters to the King?

Welcome!

“Love Letters to the King” is a set of letters that take you on a journey to explore the fictional account of how a peasant girl arrested the heart of a King, and how the King transforms her into a Princess.

Written as individual first person letters, you feel as though you have stumbled across a young woman’s account of an age-old love affair.

My prayer is that, as you unravel the mystery behind the letters, you’ll discover there’s a King waiting to start a love affair with you.

Mary's Journal

How awesome are you God that nothing is impossible with you? That is what Gabriel said when he visited me, and he was right. To think, my dear cousin was barren. Wanting a child all her life, she was left with an empty womb and empty arms until such a time as this.

A time of your choosing. I am still in awe.

Amazed at your glory and of your love, for you looked down upon her….upon Elizabeth…and you filled her womb. Even in her old age, when others said it was no longer possible, you gave her life.

How awesome are you God that you would do such a thing?

In your presence, my heart is set to song and takes flight among the eagles. For, my very bones ache with the knowledge that possibilities are endless with you.

She’d waited for so long. My dear Elizabeth, whose dreams had years ago become distant memories. She’d pushed them from her mind and yet, you did not. And, for that I am grateful.

But I wonder, how many more have forgotten dreams. How many more serve you in gladness but, secretly look to you with hopelessness? If you delivered such blessings upon my cousin, then I know you can do the same for many more.

My God, the one in whom I trust. I plead to you that we are a desolate people my Lord. The Romans bear down on us every day. Our hardships are evident in our calloused hands, our impoverished land and our broken hearts.

But, you are a deliverer of forgotten dreams. A resurrector of barren hopes. Can you not show up for everyone as you have Elizabeth?

In this moment it occurs to me that perhaps you already have. For my cousin’s womb is not the only one that has been touched.

Mine is filled as well.

He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. Is this not also what Gabriel said to me? But, in truth, I wonder what that means. Will he fulfill dreams, my Lord? Will he be the one we have been hoping and praying for?

My mind is filled with questions whose answers cause my heart to tremble.

I have become so accustomed to hoping and praying for the Messiah that I cannot imagine that he is already here. This baby growing inside of me…is it him my Lord? I’m scared to hope and yet scared not too. For why else would you have bestowed such a thing upon me except to answer the cries of your people?

Because my Lord, you are the restorer of hopes and dreams. The one who looks down upon us, and in mercy and grace, fulfills that which we believe to be impossible.

I am in awe of you my Lord and forever will be.

Mary

“Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. For nothing is impossible with God.” Luke 1:36-37 NIV

May the Lord resurrect in your life that which you thought to be lost for He has not forgotten the God-given dreams of your heart. For when you least expect it, you will find that nothing is impossible with God.

Love Letters to the King

I saw myself today.

The garden was soaked from a mid-morning rain. Droplets scurried down branches and dripped from the tip of each leaf lending its girth to the growing puddles beneath the canopy.

With each step, my feet slipped deeper within the saturated earth. Bending down to dislodge my sandal, something caught my eye.

Entangled in the roots of an ancient oak, a pool of water gained refuge from the sun. The puddle, undisturbed, was a perfect looking glass that reflected my every movement. I leaned over the muddy water and was disheartened by the girl staring back at me.

I tested the reflection by touching my cheek only to find the girl in the puddle touched hers as well. But, surely that could not be me. Dampened by the humidity, hair stuck haphazardly to her face and neck. Her cheeks, sallow and gaunt, looked out of place amidst a rose filled garden. Unwoven threads spilled from the aged-shawl pulled over her shoulders and lay threat to unravel the garment there beneath the tree. Dipping my finger into the pool, I’d hoped the ripples would make her disappear but she did not. The smile evaporated from the girl’s lips as it did mine.

How can I visit you in such a state? I’d seen the reflection and realized my own displeasure. How can I possibly please you?

The sun grew taller above the trees. And, I knew you’d be waiting.

Not willing to deny my heart’s desire to drink in your presence, I walked toward our meeting place.

Within minutes, I spanned the distance of the garden and found you waiting beneath the draped branches of the willow tree. Casting my eyes to the ground, I took my place by your side.
My shame stood between us. Your silence suffocated me and my heart felt as though it would shatter.

My foot turned and my body twisted until I was facing the path once again. Stepping forward to leave, your hand caught my elbow.

“Come” you said.

With your arm, linked in mine, you guided me to the edge of the lake. Dropping to one knee, I followed suit and knelt by your side.

We leaned over the water’s edge and a smile spread across your lips.

“Look into my water.” You said as your finger cracked the glassy surface and swirled the water until, at your whim, it turned into a crystal revealing secrets of yesterday and tomorrow.
Instead of my reflection, I saw old turn new. Darkness invaded by light. And, fear dispelled by truth. Drawn into the crystal, I watched images of my life replayed before me only this time I saw you etched into the picture.

You were there when the midwife handed me swaddled in a blanket to my mother. You were there standing next to me at the funeral of my father. And, you were there when the messenger brought the note calling me to your garden. Always there, always watching, always protecting. You were with me.

Your finger brushed the water’s surface again and the image changed. Tears welled up in my eyes until they spilled down my cheeks as a new vision came forth from the crystal. The girl from the puddle was standing in a great hall. You reached out and took her by the hand. A cacophony of music poured in as the couple danced across the floor. With each turn, my dress underwent a metamorphosis changing my appearance to that of a royal courtier.

Your laughter shattered the image as the crystal dispersed into a thousand water droplets and disappeared beneath the surface.

Leaning towards me, you whispered in my ear, “Do not trust your eyes Princess, trust mine.”

Yes my Lord, I will trust.

For I will forever be yours.

Love,

Your enraptured servant

“I delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and a bride adorns herself with jewels.” Isaiah 61:10 NIV

Love Letters to the King

Oh my Lord,

The darkness has overtaken me.

The gloom of it pierces my heart and poisons my soul and I fear I can bear no more. And, I wonder, how do I know the sun will rise, my Lord? How do I know this darkness will flee from me?

For I fear it is a nebulous dark that arises from the underworld and threatens to destroy me.

It’s as if death itself has rested upon me for I am cloaked in shadows that have no beginning or end. I am lost amidst a black abyss that drips from my skin and springs forth eternal sorrow.

Here, on the path that runs through the middle of our garden, do I sit hugging my knees to my chest. I rock back and forth, physically willing the hands of time to quicken and bring the light of day sooner, but they do not. Instead, the broken rocks imbedded in the path bite my skin to the point of bleeding so that tears of pain join my tears of sadness as they waterfall off my cheeks.

I could leave.

I could stand right now and run out of the garden and back to the safety of my own room within the village. I could climb into my bed, pull the covers tight around me and find warmth in my own trapped body heat. I could go back to that place, to the constraints of a world of my design, and find a frail security. But I would be alone. I would no longer have the hope I find in you. I would no longer have the joy I feel in your presence. And, I would no longer see the look in your eyes that tells me how beautiful I am.

Having known to well the bitter taste of such an empty life, I do not dare leave the garden. Even while gripped in a darkness that masks the truth of my surroundings, I choose to wait.

And, in the waiting, believe that the sun will again come up.

For in one moment, the darkness will be lit with the brilliance of a thousand rainbows birthed by fire. The sun will ease above the horizon and chase away my demons. The trees shall awake, shake the inkiness of night from their branches and spread their leaves in honor of you. The morning dew will wash away every hint of lies that the shadows cursed upon the land and the garden will be new once again.

In that moment, I will rise. The rays of sun spilling into the garden will burn the sorrow off my skin and dry the tears from my face. A smile will cascade across my lips as I head towards the lake. For I know that when dawn kisses the earth, I will find you beneath the willow tree, waiting for me.

Yes, my Lord, right now it is dark. I am surrounded by all that I fear. But I choose to believe the sun will rise.

I will rest in the knowledge of that which I know but cannot see. And, I trust I will find you there.

Love,

Your enraptured servant

“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” Hebrews 11:1