Article Series : Letters Never Sent

Hand Written Letter

Part 1: The Best

God has handed you a raw deal. I don’t like it! It’s not fair. You, the best, the finest.  Oh, your suffering!  On every hand that suffering claws at you and has incessantly for years.  You bear too many and … Continue reading

Hand Written Letter

Part 2: The Liberal

Dear Pastor, You, so current and liberal. “The Bible mostly myth.” I could not bear your leading astray those tottering and gullible lambs. That Book most dear to me, most proven true, I protested for . . . designated your … Continue reading

Hand Written Letter

Part 3: Garden Gates

Beloved friend, don’t analyze me. I defy analysis. So do you. To do so violates my soul by confining me to your concept of me.  I might believe it and close the door on God. Analysis is a cage . … Continue reading

Hand Written Letter

Part 4: The Brother

I lectured you. (I called it sharing.) You needed to do things by the standard I had chosen, arriving when you promised, by the date you set.  And by all means, knowing everything your job required.  I would help you … Continue reading

Hand Written Letter

Part 5: The Star

You want me for your counselor. Beg me to look deep and give you what my inner eyes see. We walk and talk. You believe in Him in me . . . ask for all. But I am disturbed, unquiet … Continue reading

Hand Written Letter

Part 6: The Tyrant

This person was my first introduction to “religious evil,” the kind that didn’t recognize the Beloved Son of the God they claimed to serve. These ones tortured and mocked Him with a many-faceted murder.  I was bewildered and shocked in the beginning … Continue reading

Part 7: The Boy

Brave you rose to speak. Myriad faces didn’t stop you nor an awesome pulpit. Boys sometimes stand and shaking, preach. But only men cry in public for their God. Copyright © 1983 Martha Kilpatrick, Letters Never Sent

Part 8: The Living Dead

(I will call this person TAMI.) I have had such strange thoughts. I have been thinking about the eulogy that could be spoken over your burial.  YOU are quite alive. I think perhaps it is I who have died and … Continue reading

Part 9: The Comic

You taught me to laugh. But for you I’d be a stodgy stick-in-the-mud. No mundane days for you. You refuse. Everything, the worst, can be turned funny. How do you think like that? It just doesn’t occur to me, and … Continue reading

Part 10: The Prince

You are a prince. Do not walk as common men.  The world is yours as much as you are wholly His.  A prince of height and looks. Lofty, dark and handsome. But externals alone to not a prince make. It … Continue reading

Part 11: Radiant Nurse

You were lovely in your nurse-white, coming in my empty room. Really empty, having lost my first: years-waited-for, prayed-for baby. Isolated from the other mothers, this non-mother knew all too well what was happening down the hall, the tiny cries … Continue reading

Part 12: The Melancholy

You are Winter, know only one season. Gray silhouettes. Hopeless struggle. Life is not sleeping, soon to stretch and wake. For you life is dead. You mourn it, but love the weeping.  You revel in sickness . . . disaster … Continue reading

Part 13: Christian Teacher

I’m his mother. What makes you think you know better for him than I do? I, who pray and fast for him. Do you do that for each of your 25 students? 25 fasts? Of course not. Then listen! Don’t … Continue reading

Part 14: The Mother

Dear Baba (my infant name for you), You’ve lived in heaven for many years now . . . As you lay in a coma my fear was that I’d forget you. Being little more than a child, I understood that … Continue reading

Part 15: The Gossip

You served up all the juicy meat. I didn’t know how to stop you and I hated myself for wanting to ingest it, for the macabre desire to see the blood run. At first you were temptation to my ear, … Continue reading

Part 16: Image Consultant

I held back, reserved opinion. I wasn’t going to be fooled. But I would hear you out, let you give your sales pitch. You sensed my reservation and resented it. Your insult waited a week to dawn on me. It … Continue reading

Part 17: The Biting Dog

I never got to know you before you killed us. I came in like a puppy, dancing – open. Thinking you wonderful, glad to sit with you. I wanted us to sing in harmony . . . to Him. I … Continue reading

Hand Written Letter

Part 18: The Friend

We have been together how long? Through how much? Children, projects, trouble, cooking, ministry . . . misery. Your brand of love . . . you don’t just share my hurts. You take my spear and stick it in your … Continue reading

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