Letters from Heaven Episode 3 & 4– The Long Night

 

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Letters from Heaven

Episode 3 – The Long Night

The letter was still damp when David laid it on the small wooden table in his apartment. The ink had bled slightly from the rain, but the words were intact, almost burning through the paper:

“You are not forgotten.
Jesus still loves you.
Don’t give up now.”

He had read it a dozen times on the bus ride home. Now, in the silence of his room, he read it again, lips moving, as though speaking the words would make them settle in his soul.

But a storm raged inside him.

“What if it’s just coincidence?” he whispered, pacing the room. “What if someone dropped it, and I was foolish enough to think it was meant for me?”

His eyes wandered to the crack in his ceiling, where water stains had shaped themselves into patterns he sometimes stared at when he couldn’t sleep. Tonight, they looked like question marks.

He dropped into his chair, head in his hands. Memories came flooding back—nights of kneeling on cold tiles, prayers so desperate his voice went hoarse. He had fasted until his body trembled. He had sown “seeds of faith” into baskets that left his wallet empty. He had obeyed prophets, bathed in “holy waters,” anointed his walls. Nothing changed.

His voice rose in the stillness.
“Lord, I’ve tried! I’ve cried! I’ve begged! You stayed silent. And now… this? A letter in the street? Am I supposed to believe this is You?”

Tears welled up, hot and angry. He wanted to throw the paper across the room, but his fingers wouldn’t let go. Instead, he pressed it to his chest.

He thought of his sister—how she had called him irresponsible, how she’d said she couldn’t depend on him anymore. He thought of his mother’s grave, how he had promised to make her proud. He thought of the business he once dreamed would carry him far, now reduced to a pile of unpaid debts.

His whole life felt like one long unanswered prayer.

And yet…

His eyes fell on the letter again. The words glowed in the dim light of his flickering bulb:

“Don’t give up now.”

It was that last line that undid him. Not the “Jesus loves you”—he had heard that all his life in Sunday School songs. Not even the “You are not forgotten”—though it pierced his heart. It was the command, the plea, the invitation: Don’t give up now.

He sank to his knees beside the table. His prayer was not eloquent, not polished—just raw, broken words between sobs.

“Lord, if this is You… if this letter is really from You… then please, please, don’t leave me like this. I can’t carry it anymore. I need You. I need rest.”

The room stayed quiet. The problems still loomed. But somewhere deep in his chest, beneath the storm, a stillness whispered back: You are not alone.

That night David slept—not because his troubles had ended, but because for the first time in months, his heart had loosened its grip on despair.

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✨ End of Episode 3

📖 Scripture Echo:
“Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him, my Savior and my God.” —Psalm 42:11

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Letters from Heaven

Episode 4 – The God Who Interrupts

The week crawled forward, each day a mirror of the last—crowded buses, cold stares at work, an inbox full of reminders that his debts were not resting. Yet something small had shifted in David since the letter. It wasn’t victory, not yet. But the thought that God might still see him had kept him from collapsing under the weight of despair.

By Thursday evening, the rain had returned. David stepped off the bus, holding his worn bag close, careful not to splash into the muddy puddles that pooled along the street. The sky was dark though the day was not done.

As he walked, a commotion up ahead caught his attention. A small boy—no more than ten—was crouched beside the road, trying to gather scattered papers that the wind had snatched from his schoolbag. Cars honked, some swerved, but no one stopped. The boy’s hands shook as he scrambled.

David didn’t think. He dropped his bag and rushed forward, kneeling on the wet ground, helping gather the pages before the cars could crush them. The boy’s wide eyes filled with tears of relief.

“Thank you, sir,” he whispered, clutching the rescued sheets.

David smiled faintly, brushing mud off his hands. “Be careful next time, eh?”

The boy nodded, then pressed something into David’s hand. A torn page—obviously not from his schoolwork, but from a Bible. Its edges were frayed, but the words were bold:

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.” —Isaiah 43:2

David froze. His eyes darted from the page to the boy, who was already running off into the rain.

He stood there, drenched, staring at the verse. The letter in the rain had told him not to give up. Now, this torn page told him why—because God Himself was with him, even in the floods of life.

He clutched the paper, heart racing, tears hidden in the rain.

This was no coincidence. It couldn’t be. First the letter, now this. God was not silent. God was interrupting him, again and again, in ways he could not explain.

As he walked home, the weight of his debts and failures remained, but something inside him had changed. His prayer that night was no longer a desperate cry of abandonment. It was softer, steadier:

“Lord… I believe You’re still here. Help me keep holding on.”

And for the first time in years, his words didn’t echo back empty. They felt carried, as though heaven was listening.

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✨ End of Episode 4

📖 Scripture Echo:
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” —Isaiah 43:2

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