I Wonder If He Knew | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: I Wonder If He Knew | Previous Challenge Entry
By bill johnson
11/04/09
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I feel there is a transcendent importance in the letter I have been compelled to write. Even as I sit here anticipating morning, I struggle to capture words which are proven worthy of its cause. My experiences I recall with unusual clarity, yet in contrast feel now as if I have only an elementary understanding of language.

Oh Lord, that my words will settle firmly in the heart of its readers.

My desire is that the retelling of these events would change the life of a single person; the same as it did me. Perhaps that same person will share my letter with even more people until hundreds of lives might be changed, even an entire town.

Father, give me the words; guide my thoughts.

As light from the rising sun sweeps across the beaten and pressed fibers of papyrus, I am gently reminded of the surpassing love and eternal existence of the God who created all that is. With fear and trembling at the overwhelming sense of the impossibility for me to fathom the importance of this letter, I press my writing utensil to the page. Almost as if I am a mere spectator of an erudite author, I begin to write the letter without a single pause to search for the
most appropriate words.

~~~

I knew what to expect. After all, it was “junk mail” Tuesday. Thumbing through the glossy sheets of retail rip-offs and loss leaders, pretending to give a rip that I can get three mattresses for
the price of two, and there it was. Out of place and out of nowhere, a single white envelope slipped from within the folds of junk onto the countertop.

Listen friend, the likelihood that I would receive a letter from anyone other than the computers at my favorite correctional institution or the crooks at my landlord’s Property Management Company was slim to none. That aside, this particular white envelope was handwritten and addressed to me.

Now I suppose most normal residence of this fine paradise would, at this point, use a letter opener. My PO, however, made the strong “recommendation” that I keep my home and person clear of all items closely resembling a weapon. He said it was primarily for the protection of all other living beings. Real funny guy.

It never ceases to amaze me how the same white pieces of paper can be used for such contrasting purposes. I’ve received plenty of white papers condemning me for the crimes I’ve committed, restraining orders telling me where I can’t go, and letters from my family explaining why they need to “move on”. To say this piece of white paper was different would be an understatement.

The note was from my buddy Mike. Mike used to live just 2 blocks from me in cell B-2. Fine, upstanding citizens of this here paradise would refer to the 3 cells in section “B” as “death row.” The residence of the institution had other names for it which I shall not repeat for you here.

My buddy had arranged for this envelope to be delivered to me upon his death of the lethal injection flavor. Mission accomplished, on both counts. Mike knew that I wasn’t a religious man and was not interested in becoming one. If God did exist, to me he was just an old man who found unrelenting joy in punishing people for the bad things they do. I would underscore my distaste for God by making certain hand gestures toward the preacher man that the local Jesus church sent into the prison.

It wasn’t Mike’s note that changed my life, but the single piece of white paper wrapped in the note. That paper, as I would find out later, was a portion of a letter written about 2000 years ago by a guy named John. It was the underlined text which quickly drew my attention before I could reject this single torn page.

I began to read, “For God so loved the world…”*

These words saved my friend’s life and they are saving mine too. I sometimes wonder if John knew that this letter he was writing, most likely on some sort of dried plant fibers, would be translated and printed on millions of thin white pieces of paper and then eventually save a murderer from Iowa.

“Thank you Charlie. Friends, if you want to know the same saving Grace, please make your way to the stadium floor; we have a Book for you…”

---
* (NIV) John 3:16a

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