Dear God,
I am sorry if in the past I have limited our relationship. I’m not used to the way things should be between us. You could say it’s all new for me, my soul just being created and such. There are a few things it’s taking me a long time to learn.
For example, I keep forgetting how good You are. I think it’s because Your goodness exceeds my understanding, so I see some of the things You do as cruelty at first. It leads me to imagine You as fickle, mean-spirited – even petty at times. That is why, when I call on You, I don’t always expect an answer. I even assume you ignore me most of the time. I can’t think of one friend who would treat me this badly, but I expect it of You. I’ve entirely forgotten how good You are, and I’m sorry about that.
You gave me existence for free, and the ability to work, and the power to appreciate and take advantage of life. But I still complain about what wasn’t made free, or isn’t perfect, or doesn’t match my understanding. Give a starving man a fish and he eats; give a sated man a fish, and he wonders what else you’ve got. You created me with so many riches, I fear I keep waiting for what’s in Your other hand…
Lastly, I apologize for putting a name to what You are. This, more than anything else, has limited our relationship. Mathematicians write Infinity as a symbol so it can fit in their equations, just as I use “God” to fit You in my mind. But I’ve forgotten that You have no end. I try so hard to squeeze you into my mind and my heart – to eke out a drop of what You are that I can call my own – that I keep forgetting about the power and the beauty and the untold depths of the Ocean. I confuse myself by what I know of You, and for that, again, I’m sorry.
When my parents didn’t give me everything I wanted, I often screamed that it was so unfair. How sorely did I fail to perceive their love in those limitations.
Yours (quite literally), John