Tag Archives: Love Letters from God

When Love Letters fly all over the World, and end up in Places you never would have Imagined…

In the entrance hall of a little Primary school in northern England, Love Letters from God sits quietly on a podium. It has pride of place next to the school Bible. My sweet nephew, Jake, proudly placed it there.

In a dementia care unit in Grand Rapids, Michigan, Love Letters from God sits on a bedside table. It is being read to an elderly lady as she slips in and out of awareness. The reader is her daughter, a lady who does not know God…yet.

In an orphanage in Botswana, Love Letters from God is being shared with children who have no home, no parents, and no books to call their own.

In a small New York apartment, Love Letters from God belongs to a fifty year old man who struggles with mental illness. He smiles when he hears the familiar stories, and clutches his photo of the author as if she were a celebrity.

In a house not far from my home, Love Letters from God is owned by a young boy with special needs. His parents tell me that when he lifts the flaps and hears his name, he squeals with excitement. He knows that those letters are written to him.

In a home in Paris, Love Letters from God sits on a bookshelf. Given as a gift, my ministry colleague left it there for the host she stayed with on her travels. Inside the book, Laurie wrote words of hope, healing, and comfort. It was the day after the Charlie Hebdo shooting.

And for every book that has been bought, for every story that is shared, for every place where Love Letters has flown, I am awed, and humbled, and thankful.

For the teenager who found hope through the story of David and Goliath when he was being bullied at school; for the mom who heard God speaking to her heart as her young daughter read the letters to her and inserted her mom’s name into each one; for the grandchildren who beg to hear their love letters each night; for every story of grace I hear, I am awed, and humbled, and thankful.

You pick up the pen. You begin to write. You create a Storybook Bible for children aged four to eight, for this is your target audience. And then you watch what God can do…for God’s target audience is the world.

All authors have a target audience, but God’s target audience is the world.

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You watch as God picks up the book, and flies it all over the world: to Botswana, and Italy; to England and France; to Australia and Switzerland.

In schools and churches; in hospitals and orphanages; on bookshelves and bed-side tables, God is placing this book in the hands of those who need to read it, and touching the hearts of those who need to hear it- no matter their age, no matter their circumstance.

God is at work in the world.

Do you know someone who needs to hear God’s Love Letter to them? Enter this free giveaway here.

The day I met God at the Christmas Craft Fair

The Secret In the Wall

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In the brick wall of a big old house in northern England lies a secret. It’s been lying there quietly for over forty years, undisturbed, just waiting to be discovered. The secret is a small piece of paper- folded carefully, and most probably faded. If you were to find it, and unfold it, you would see a name. It is mine.

I was about ten years old when I wrote my name on that piece of paper and stuffed it in between the bricks of my bedroom wall. I wanted it to be found, years and years later, by someone who would wonder about me: who I was; where I was; and what I was doing now.

I wanted to be known.

I’ll never forget the day, not too long ago. when I sat with my son to watch the little one minute video, created by Zondervan, to promote my first children’s book. I remember squealing with delight as my name floated into view.

That’s me! That’s my name! I shrieked.

Even more exciting was the day I saw my name written in bold font, proudly displayed on the front cover of the book.

And only two weeks ago, on a golden October morning, I was thrilled to add my name to the visitor list at HarperCollins publishers, and even more thrilled to see the name of Lee Strobel written above mine.

And I think about my need, our human need for our names to be known, our names to be recognized; our presence to be heard in this world.

I think about all the names carved on benches in parks, and on trunks of trees; on public walls, and inside prison cells. I think of the names we discovered on our living room walls in England, hidden beneath wallpaper, scratched years ago, alongside faded potato prints that were used to decorate homes during the scarcity days of the second world war.

And how our names, etched and carved and written in a myriad of ways, and in a myriad of places, all say:

I was here.

We all yearn to be known.

And we are.

My name, your name is recorded in a far more wonderful way, and in a far more wonderful place than one written on a piece of paper hidden in a cavity; or one carved on a tree trunk; or one printed on the cover of a book.

Paper disintegrates. Trees are felled. Books go out of print.

But somewhere, in a marvelous and mysterious place that no eye has ever seen, written in permanent, never-to-fade, glorious, indelible, and eternal ink- is your name.

It is written forever on the palm of One who knew you before you were even born.

I am known.

You are known.

Somewhere, in a mysterious place that no eye has seen, written in permanent, eternal ink- is your name.

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What happens when God shows up at a book signing…

When a Three Year Old Teaches you About Salvation

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It was when we were sitting close on the sofa, the book open between us….

I look at his blonde head beneath mine. I watch his little fingers opening those lift-the-flap letters from God and I see him smile as we write his name on each one.

And I think – what greater blessing could there possibly be than to sit with your three year old grandson and read God’s great story together on a Thursday afternoon?

What could be more wonderful than to share the words of a book you were privileged to author? Words that flowed through your pen and came to life on the page; and when you read them over the next day, you wondered where on earth they came from? And then to realize of course that these life-giving words did not originate on earth at all, but could only possibly have been born in heaven.

My three year old joy laughs at the story of Jonah in The Very Smelly Belly; he smiles when he hears how Zacchaeus, The Tiny Tax Collector, found his very best friend; and he looks with interest at the marks on Jesus’ hands and feet when we read The Happy Ending.

And then he turns the page to see his very own invitation…..his chance to say yes to God; to say yes to being part of God’s wonderful family; to say yes to salvation; to say yes to joining Jesus’ team.

And I remember when I was writing the book, how I had pondered long about how to offer that salvation call to little ones, how to word it in such a way that their little minds might understand, and their little hearts be open to.

It took me a while, but one day in my mind I saw that Galilean beach so long ago, and those fishing boats pulled up on shore, and Jesus walking along the beach, leaving his footprints in the sand as he makes his way toward James and John. And Jesus simply says,

Follow me.

And there it was: the Invitation. The life-giving invitation to the most amazing adventure those brothers would ever know. Simple. Uncomplicated. No conditions. Just follow me.

And they do! Those first disciples drop their nets and said yes to Jesus. They just follow his sandy footsteps along the beach without saying ‘The Sinners’ Prayer’, or falling to their knees in repentance. All that would come later. For now, all they do is say yes.

Salvation is simple. It was never meant to be complex, or hard to understand. Salvation is a simple invitation to say yes to Jesus.

Salvation is a simple invitation to say yes to Jesus.

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And so the little blonde on my lap turns the last page of the book, and he sees his invitation. He sees the last envelope attached to the page, with blank lines, ready for him to write his own letter to God; his own yes; in his own little way.

What’s this Grandma?

Well, it’s your invitation honey, to join Jesus’ team, And this is a letter that you can write back to God one day.

But not right now I’m thinking…you’re too young. You’re only three. You don’t understand.

But he is insistent; he wants to write his reply now; and so hesitantly, I ask,

Well what do you want to say to God?

And then here it comes…

His immediate, perfect, three year old response.

It’s not supposed to be this way…this teaching thing. Grandmas are supposed to teach their three year old grandsons, not the other way around. But that’s when God steps in, right there, when you’re sitting on the sofa on a Thursday afternoon, that’s when God steps in, out of the blue, and lets you know He’s real.

I want to say I Love You.

My three year old grandson wants to tell God he loves Him. Perfect. And right now, at just three years of age, what more would God want to hear?

The book sits closed on my table now. My grandson is probably playing in his sand pit.

But when he comes here again, we will sit on the sofa, and take up the book. We will turn its pages, and open that letter, where those three little words scrawled In his three year old hand are waiting to remind me-

you are never too young for salvation;

you are never too young to say yes to God.

The Photograph

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As soon as I saw the photograph, I knew I would write about it one day.

We sit side-by-side, my dad and I. He has his arm tight around me, a big smile on his face. We are both holding my first book…a book dedicated to him, and without whom, its words would never have been written.

And how glad am I, how I have prayed for this day…that in his declining health, my dad would still be able to read my dedication to him. And he does!

And when I show him the photograph, he says his favorite word… ‘splendid’. And with a twinkle in his eye, he adds, ‘That’s splendid Glenys, you should put that photograph in every book!’

And I am astonished as I look carefully at that picture again…..to note the difference in my dad and I, and how, yet again, even though he is 90 years old, he is still teaching me…

Because when I first see that photograph, I look at myself first. I check my hair. I check my smile. I check my pose. I look okay.

But when my dad first sees that photograph, he looks at me first. He sees his daughter with her first book; he sees God; he sees the little child who will open its pages to meet Jesus there. He does not look at himself; he does not see that he is still wearing his plastic bib, or that underneath he is wearing his dressing gown, because it is after 6pm and he is ready for bed.

My dad sees only what is ‘splendid’…so splendid, in fact, that he would be willing to share this photograph with the world. And this I marvel at….because it is never about him, but always about someone else.

And so this is my prayer for this little book….let it not be all about me, but let it be all about God, and the little hands that will one day open its pages.

Little Did I Know…

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“I think I’ll write a children’s Bible,” I announced to my husband one morning. Always my encourager, he smiled and said, “ That would be great.”

“And maybe I can get it published by Zondervan.” I added.

“Well that would be great too,” he replied.

But we both knew that this was the stuff of dreams. Right? I laughed, hopped on my bicycle, and rode to my church office, ready to start another day in children’s ministry. But the dream stayed with me.

That was in 2006. Little did I know that four years later, I would be standing outside the door of the Maranatha Christian Writers’ Conference, nervously clutching my carefully constructed proposal, not knowing what to expect when I opened that door.

Little did I know that one year after that, I would be holding a contract in my hand for Love Letters from God, and that the contract would be signed by the publisher…Zondervan. But God knew. He just had to show me the way.

God…the Caller of your name; Giver of the writing gift; Creator of dreams; Planter of seeds; God knows it all. Writers…pick up your pens, open yourselves to the creative power of the Holy Spirit, and use your God-given gifts to write for Him.

Turn The Page…

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Turn the page Mum, turn the page! my youngest son squeals.

He is sitting on my lap, his three older brothers squashed on either side, and we are pored over our all-time, favorite book. It is 1993 and we are reading the story of a Jolly Postman who rides his bike as he delivers letters to Nursery Rhyme characters.

With great anticipation, we turn the page to find a stamped envelope, addressed to:

The Three Bears, Cottage in the Woods.

My son’s little hands reach out and eagerly unfold an apology letter, from Goldilocks. We read it, and laugh, and thoroughly enthralled, we keep turning those pages.

Twenty years later, this wonderful little book would inspire me to write Love Letters from God, 18 Bible stories for children, each one followed by its own lift-the-flap letter, addressed to your child, from God.

It is my prayer that many little hands will unfold these letters. And as they do so, may God, who continues to turn the pages in all our lives, pour out his richest blessings on them.

I will pour out my Spirit on your offspring,
and my blessing on your descendants. Isaiah 44:3