Some time ago I wrote a long very personal letter to a friend. There was a misunderstanding between us, a difference in perspective and opinion, and my commitment to our relationship seemed to require a thoughtful, honest and loving explanation of who I am and where I was coming from in the matter. I spent several days over this message, carefully pondering what is important to convey and what is not, in order to ensure that there is a better understanding, a broadening of our ways as we live Christ-life in this world and that our friendship would be strengthened rather than weakened as a result. The letter was finally completed and I sent it off. It was as if I’d sent a piece of my deepest me by the click of a mouse. I eagerly waited for the response. I got it. In one short sentence there was a polite acknowledgment of the receipt and a generic “hope for the best”. And that was all. I kept waiting. And waiting. I worked hard trying to understand how such a letter could generate such anemic response. What I sent wasn’t a mass mailer, a forwarded forward of something somebody 8 degrees removed forwarded to somebody else. It was personal. It was my heart and soul and mind. For days I did my best to show grace and understanding – being myself deluged by the plethora of reading material – even good reading material and the careful selection of what I must and what I simply can not afford to read in the context of the constraints of a busy ministry and family life we all live. In my head I could fully explain such inexplicable response, but my heart…. my heart was tottering under a boulder weighing a ton. I couldn’t bear it anymore. I went to the Lord and poured my complaint before Him. The accusations and the explanations. What I did and said in the letter, and most importantly why. The deep, deep disappointment over how it was received, the frustration that I couldn’t “just get over it”, for what’s the big deal?!!! It’s just a letter! I was only about half-way done with the presentation of my case when from the depths of my soul came an echo, I understand.

I understand?!!! I stopped mid-sentence. I understand? Was God of the Universe trying to tell me that He understands? I stepped out of my little puddle of self-pity and pondered the two simple words. The “I” of the Word of God, the great I AM who not only spoke the world into existence but went through the trouble of enlisting dozens of willing and unwilling individuals over a period that spans centuries in order to give us, to write down for us the heart of His very heart and the mind of His very mind so that the most misunderstood living Person can reveal Himself to us and as a result rebuild, fortify and expand our friendship. He meticulously chose not only what to say but also how to say it so we can know Him – know Him as He truly is, not as we project Him to be – making Him a conglomeration of our own prejudices, limitations and hurts. Then He sends off the letter. And He waits. And waits. And waits. We may politely acknowledge the receipt and periodically skim over the words, too busy, too preoccupied to connect with the heart of the Author. Feeling misunderstood still?
My droplet of grief merged with the ocean of love and sorrow.