My Precious Jesus,

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      I’m writing you this letter because I just wanted to tell you how much I love you. I wanted to express exactly what you mean to me. This feels like an opportunity to share my heart with you—and maybe even with others—about who you are and what you’ve done in my life. If I’m honest, this letter could be a book. There’s so much I could say, so many moments I could include, and every one of them revolves around you. My whole life is you. My whole being is you.

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      Jesus, you stepped into my life and changed everything. You made yourself known to me in such a powerful, personal way. I wanted you in my life. I’ve loved you since I was a little girl, even though I didn’t understand why. I didn’t know you then. I didn’t know what you truly represented. I thought you were dead but now I know—you’re not dead. You are so alive. And yes, I wish I had known that back then. But maybe it wouldn’t have meant as much to me as it does now. What I know today is that who you are is beyond words. I could say I’m thankful, I’m grateful, I’m overwhelmed—but even those words fall short. You’re beyond great.

You’re beyond, beyond great.

 

      You are the bravest, most honorable person who ever walked this earth. When people talk about heroes, I think of you. You’re more than a hero. I remember a time when I just wanted to make my own mistakes and deal with the consequences later. And you let me. You said, “Okay.” And when I was hurting, when I was broken, when I looked back at the mess I had made—you were there. You picked me up, dusted me off, put me back together, and set my feet on solid ground. You didn’t shame me. You loved me. When I was lost, you found me. When I was out in the world, drinking and partying, you still loved me. When I fell short, you still loved me. When I was buried in sin, you still loved me.

 

      You died for me. You shed your blood for me. No one on this earth could ever do what you’ve already done—and you did it with honor, with love, and in obedience to the Father’s will. Sometimes I think you did it just for me. And while I know you did it for all of us, it feels so personal. I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand the depth of your suffering. The truth is so downplayed. But I get to rejoice in your resurrection. I get to see your power, your glory, your beauty—even in your suffering.

 

      When I think about you, Jesus, I think about your love. I wonder how you can love us—how you can love me. Look at what I do. Look at how I think. And still, your love remains. I’ve heard people talk about being caught up in your presence, about seeing you. And I get so excited, because I know one day I’ll see you face to face. I’ll be with you. I’ll be in your presence forever.

 

      I think about the people who had your physical presence here on earth—what did they do with that? Did they know what they had? Even though I have your presence now, I still wonder what it would have been like to walk beside you. I think about it often. I look forward to seeing you. I look forward to the family. I look forward to everything that’s coming. I’m so grateful, Jesus, that after all these years, you are still famous. You are known across the earth. There are many against you, but there are more for you. And I’m so thankful to be part of your family—the beautiful family of God. Because of you, I’m forgiven. I’m restored. I have a relationship with you, with the Father, and I’ve been gifted the Holy Spirit. These are precious to me. You are precious to me.

 

      I may not always get it right, but thankfully, you do. You always have. So, I write you this love letter, Jesus, just to say: I love you. You mean everything to me. I’m so thankful. And even though my words can’t fully express it, I know you hear my heart.

With all my love,

Leslie