pb and j


I used to write love letters to my ex boyfriend that had more cheese in it than the dairy section of Wegmans. Oozing with lengthy diatribes about the color of his eyes, perfect match analogies referencing food items most commonly used in sandwiches, and pathetic stick figure doodles of us walking down the beach holding hands with a sunset in the background.

He reciprocated by writing me a letter that said my brown eyes were like a fine mahogany wood. (Watch out, Pottery Barn.)

Who needs to ride a tilt-a-whirl after eating fifteen hot dogs and 3 cotton candies to vomit, all you need is a good love letter to purge your system.

I’ve read a lot of Christian books in my day that are geared toward single, Christian young women. It’s a common theme among them that it’s a good idea to write a letter to your future husband. Talking about all the ways you have been praying for him, all the things you look forward to, blah blah blah blah blah.


If I could say anything to a young girl my age who is sitting in her apartment by herself on a Friday night, with a microwave dinner on her coffee table, with “Keeping up with the Kardashians” on her television, and a pen and journal in her hand, I’d say “burn that journal!” I don’t care if you got it from Papyrus and it’s homemade from a village in Indonesia. Why waste your time writing a letter to your future husband? Why take the time to put on a pedestal something that God has chosen right now for you not to have? Your letter isn’t a golden calf, but it’s still an idol. I think we too often fall prey to idolizing a future husband and spend time feeding into and building up this image of him. Writing him love letters of adoration, devotion, loyalty.

Don’t get me wrong, praying for your future husband is all well and good—and I know You honor that. The problem is what are we doing with this image of what may or may not be—are we surrendering it to You or are we dwelling on it, letting it become more than just a desire, but something we begin to worship.

What if we spent time—what if I spent time—writing down words of adoration, devotion, loyalty, and love to the one person who deserves my whole heart right now.

I don’t know the color of your eyes, or if you like to keep some scruff on your face, or if you even like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but I do know what you’ve done for me, and characteristics of who You are.

It’s all in the Bible—your love letter to us. Oozing with lengthy diatribes about battles fought and your chosen people and the Promised Land, perfect match analogies referencing Christ and his church, and the illustration of salvation found on a cross.

I should be writing love letters to you.

Your child,