An Email from 2007

Here’s an email I found that I wrote to a certain someone way back in ’07.

Hey, I know we’ll talk tonight, but I want to email you about how I’m doing.  In no way is this to be anything else but positive, both on yours and my part.  Maybe this could be one thing we talk about tonight, maybe not.  But here it goes.

It’s not that I want to bring you down or whatever, but I feel compelled to let you know, just so that I don’t leave you out in the blue.  Like Flores said, “You guys talk.”

There are times when I feel the burden trying to creep up on me, you know?  Like, I’m over there thinking about you, your amazingness (that’s not a real word) and beauty, and then I feel Satan trying to deceive me by bringing up the burden of the past, the monster of history trying to justify our present; overanalyzation (that’s not a real word either) trying to get the best of me.
To let you know the truth, I just want to be done with it, like, right now, you know?  I just want to yell, “Okay, I get it!  Can we please move on now, please?!”  So that this way I can finally experience complete happiness without a splinter of pain.  To let go completely of all what is long gone, because, well, it’s long gone.

I know that this will happen, and I’m praying that you will know too.  I’m praying that, if this is really what Dad wants, then I need not fear the past or the present—or the future for that matter.  Dad will pull us through—He always has, always will.

Jesus has already taken away all sorrow, all pain, all anxiety and all imperfectness, so there’s no reason I need to carry this weight any longer.  Jesus has already forgiven you, and I of course have too.  But maybe it’s still lingering so that I can deal with it honestly instead of just trying to pretend it’s not there.  So that I might deal with it entirely and perfectly, and completely understand that it’s not mine to handle.  So that I can look past that with no strings attached and fully understand the heart that Jesus sees in you—the beauty, the warmth, and the joy.
Please understand that I’m trying here, and that whenever the past tries creeping up on me, I pray to God that He gives me the boldness and courage to stand up against it; I cannot run away from what He wants.
I think it’s also me dealing with my own past, almost as if I never dealt with it completely.

I still remember you saying, “Yeah, I guess my story’s not that bad…”  Trust me, I’ve heard a lot of crazier stories.  Stories you’d probably never believe!

There are no “worse” sins, because it doesn’t make sense for there to be a “better” sin.

Dad’s saying to me, “Look at yourself, kid.  You think you’re any better?  There is no one better, not one, but I.”

And yet we can have that assurance that we can hope for the best, the perfect, even when we don’t deserve it.  The ultimate gift, I believe, is the gift of salvation.  And with that, there is nothing—not one menial thing—to ever, ever fear.

My life has changed completely in the past five years or so, and I’ll never be the same again.  But thank God!  Know and be assured that your past will stay in the past, and you need not linger on it anymore.  But if there are habits or old scars that need to be bound that are preventing you from growing in Christ, approach Him and tell Him to help you overcome these issues.  It’s possible, trust me.
Or don’t; trust Him.

But yeah, I guess it’s something that I want to tell you, because who else can I?  Everyone keeps telling me I’m such a lucky and blessed guy to be with you.  But they just won’t ever know how much like I do.
I look back to the times we hardly knew each other and just think, Man, we’ve gotten far…
Jaci probably did put in a little word, and I’m grateful for that!  That little snot…

I’m also asking that despite how hard it may be at times, that you stand there with me, helping me out through this so that I can finally just let it go.  Encourage me, support me, tell me that everything is going to be okay, to trust in God, and that the past is history.
I know, I know: I want to be finally done with it too.  But it’s going to take time, like my mother told me.

So I guess the winds will try and blow, and the waters will try and drown, but the Lord will be there to be our rock that we might not sink or be knocked down.


Will you still give me permission to take your hand?


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