LEARNING from LOVE LETTERS

The “tin” on the left has been in our closet since 1964. It has moved with us from house to house, closet to closet. Inside this tin are the “love” letters Roy and I wrote to one another the summer before we married. We had just finished our second semester of college for the year. I was “home” in Florida from June thru August while Roy remained behind in Mississippi. It was a long, hot summer. Long distance telephone calls took half our paychecks, but stamps were only a nickel! A couple of weeks ago, I got this box down and read the letters the 19-yr-old kids we were then had written. I read every single word and I learned a lot!

The first thing I learned was: I lied. When 19-yr-old Roy wrote and complained about his feet hurting from a long day at work, 19-yr-old Beverly wrote back and told him that after we were married I would take off his shoes and socks, massage his weary feet and sprinkle them with fragrant powder. I lied. I have never done that in more than 55 years of marriage! Not one single time!

Before I tell you what else I learned from those letters, I want to issue a DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT POST POLITICAL COMMENTS ON FB. When I first got on FB (2007, I think) I said my purpose in doing so was to embarrass my grandchildren. LOL. I did a good job of it too. Any goofy childhood picture they wanted to destroy; Gran posted on FB because I thought it was precious. Any accomplishment they achieved, no matter how minor; I lauded on FB because I thought it was the greatest thing in the world. Over time, my grandchildren – far more savvy than I am about technology – have forsaken FB.  Today, I use FB as a means of staying in touch with friends, observing how I need to pray for those I know (and sometimes people I don’t know), and for posting words of encouragement. My motto is from Bambi – IF YOU CAN’T SAY SOMETHING NICE, DON’T SAY NOTHIN’ AT ALL. I try really hard to adhere to that. That’s the main reason I choose not to enter conversations on political issues.

That being said, let me state: I am white. I was born that way. Simply on the basis of the circumstances of my birth – which I had NO control over, I have been an unwitting recipient of white privilege. All. My. Life. I am also a strong believer in Jesus Christ and all the love, mercy, acceptance and grace He purports. I don’t think I’m racist. I have dear friends whose skin color is different than mine. I don’t think I could love them any more dearly if we were family members. I honestly don’t remember ever feeling any other way. Or – at least I didn’t until I read those letters.

The summer of 1964 I lived and worked in St. Augustine, Florida. The winds of change that were blowing segregation out and ushering integration in were blowing at hurricane force. Martin Luther King Jr. spent a lot of time in St. Augustine that summer. He called our quaint town “a little Birmingham.” He didn’t mean it as a term of endearment. Some of the peaceful protests he came to lead turned into full-fledged racial riots because a group of hate-mongers in white robes opposed them. Bricks were thrown through car windows and business fronts right across the street from my house. It was a terrible time.

19-yr-old Bev wrote her boyfriend letters describing the things she saw and how she felt about them. Had I not read the words in my own handwriting; I would never have believed I could have once entertained such biased, racist attitudes. I read letter after letter and I ended up shutting the door to my room, literally laying on my face on the floor and weeping in repentance before the Lord for feelings I harbored fifty-six years ago. The words I wrote then were abhorrent to me today. I thank God that the feelings behind those words are so removed from my heart today that I would not have recalled them if I hadn’t read the letters. But – the conundrum between 1964 Bev and the Bevo of today brought me to a huge crisis of faith.

You see, when I expressed those feelings so many years ago, I was a believer in Jesus Christ and all the love, mercy, acceptance and grace He purports then too! He hasn’t changed. I cried out to God, “How could I have felt that way? I had the Holy Spirit living within me back then just like I do today. I may only have been 19 but there is no “junior” Holy Spirit. How could I have been inhabited by the Spirit of God and harbored such evil thoughts about people created in His image?” I spent several days before the Lord trying to answer those questions.

Some of the things He showed me are for me alone. But some of the things He showed me apply to us all. First, we live in a fallen world. As long as we are here, evil will coexist with good. So, I must fix my eyes on things eternal and find HOPE there instead of being dismayed by temporal things.

Second, our battle (my battle) is not against flesh and blood but against spiritual forces of wickedness. Racism and bigotry are tools Satan uses to kill, steal and destroy God’s children in a myriad of ways. This is not a political battle. It is not a “human” battle. It is a spiritual battle. The only way to win this war is through the Spirit – clothed in His armor, wielding His sword – the Word of God.

Third, what I can I do? I’m just one little old 74-year-old lady – pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of life. What can I do?

·        I can weep for the injustice of our culture heaped on men like George Floyd.

·        I can allow this travesty to hurt my heart just like it hurts the heart of Jesus.

·        I can beg God to forgive our nation and heal our land.

·        I can pray for the Holy Spirit to wrap His presence around the Floyd family as tangibly as a warm down comforter.

·        I can pray that God will use this tragedy to bring glory to Himself so that George Floyd’s death will not have been in vain.

·        I can pray for God to soften the hard heart of a man who would press his knee into the neck of a fellow human being until he extinguished the breath from his body.

·        I can pray for that man to be brought to a saving knowledge of the grace of God so that his life can be redeemed from the pit of hell.

·        I can pray that God will remove the blinders Satan has over many of our eyes so that we see our sin of prejudice and repent of it.

·        I can pray that we will quit using “the way we were raised” as an excuse to continue in the sin of bigotry.

·        I can pray that God will awaken those who do not even realize their attitudes are biased to a fresh level of awareness.

·        I can pray for healing of the hurt and strife Satan is inciting across America because of George Floyd’s death.

·        I can pray for the unrest Satan is stirring in the heart of Minneapolis’s residents to be replace with His peace which passes all understanding.

What can I do?

·        I can be kind.

·        I can be accepting.

·        I can be loving.

·        I can be forgiving.

There is no end to the things I can do. These are not exhaustive lists by any means. There is no end to the things we all can do if we determine to live and walk by the power of the Holy Spirit. We can let God change our hearts.

I learned something about myself by reading my old “love” letters. It made me uncomfortable. But it made me face some important truths. Daily I read God’s “love letter” to me – His Word. There are times it makes me uncomfortable too. But I am SO thankful it makes face important truths. I am SO thankful it has the power to change my heart.