[For the purpose of this letter, let’s call him Michael.]
You’ve been on my mind lately.
Almost three years ago, we met and instantly I was attracted to you. There was something about you that I noticed from a distance–something special. It wasn’t until we began to communicate that I realized it was God.
The two of us could talk for hours about pretty much anything and I was captivated by how smart, friendly, and gentle you were. I could spot you in any crowd of our college campus because you didn’t look like everyone else, didn’t speak or walk like everyone else. You were salt. You were light. You were bearing fruit.
And I liked you. A lot.
But you checked me for fruit and couldn’t find any. I wasn’t ready for someone like you, and you knew that, even though I didn’t. So you never let me get as close to you as I wanted.
I wanted love. The kind that the world teaches about. The kind that revolves around the presence of unwavering lust. I thought it was all about being wanted. It’s what I’d been taught in my prior relationship. It was all I knew.
You wanted love. The kind that God teaches about. The pure kind. The kind that keeps darkness at bay. The kind that you couldn’t have with me because…I was the darkness that needed to be kept at bay.
I knew I wasn’t living right; and the more time I spent with you, the more obvious it became. Your existence in my life convicted me. And I resented you for it.
I remember the exact night that I decided I was never going to speak to you again. Like darkness does when the light is suddenly switched on, I fled. And I surrounded myself with people who liked to play in the shadows like I did instead.
You never said it, but I knew you were interested in me, just like I was interested in you. But you resisted pursuing anything more than a friendship with me, and it didn’t make sense to me at the time. I thought we would be great together. You were an incredible influence on me, both spiritually and naturally (though I didn’t appreciate the spiritual part back then).We had a lot in common, shared a lot of the same values, and our conversations were incredible. We could laugh and talk for hours, paying no mind to the time.
But all along you knew something that I didn’t.
We talked about God. You knew that I “knew” Him. But you also knew the difference between “knowing” Him and walking with Him. I wasn’t walking with Him and you could tell. I was younger and I was lost–still trying to discover myself on my own instead of letting God lead me the way He does now.
I don’t know where you are in the world now or what you’re doing. But today I woke up and I realized that God put you in my life back then to teach me something that I would need now.
That’s what I learned from you.
I wasn’t the worst catch in the world for you. A lot of people today are in relationships like the one we could’ve had. The kind of relationship that disregards spiritual disagreement because of considerable natural agreement–or, “chemistry”.
But you knew that there wasn’t enough chemistry in the world to make up for my nonexistent walk with Christ.
You taught me that even if someone checks off every item on my list, if they don’t have their life in God’s hand, then they don’t deserve to hold mine.
So, today I woke up and I wanted to say thank you.
Thank you for rejecting me. For not settling for me. For not putting your relationship with Christ on the line so that you could have one with me.
You will forever be a shining example of a good and Godly man in my eyes.
The Girl Who Totally Gets It Now