The other day I wrote a love letter to G‑d. It said:

Dear G‑d,

I’m done with You. I have seen the world and what it has to offer me, and unfortunately, my ambitions are bigger than the sky. In this world, in my lifetime, I cannot make room for both You and my dreams. You are getting in the way of who I can be, stunting my growth, and diminishing my potential. I wish I’d realized this flaw in our relationship earlier on; who knows, my goals might have been accomplished by now! You have been a hindrance for far too long. Goodbye to us, I am moving on with my life, without You tying me down.



I shipped the letter off, came home and carried on with the regular motions of life, enhanced by my newfound freedom. But somehow, it didn’t really feel like freedom. I kept thinking about You and then shoving You away. Somewhere in me, I knew that I was done with You in my heart, though not in my mind.

Then one day, I walked up my front steps and found tragedy waiting at my door. Sadness took me hostage and wouldn’t let go. So I let You go fully, with my heart and my mind.

For the next two months, I did not think about You. I did my best to do nothing for You. I wanted to hurt You. I wanted to show You that if You can say You love me and then hurt me so badly, there’s no way that You really care.

You turned from a father into a philosophical concept. No longer did I want to reach out. How could I give myself over to You? I had once trusted You! I had! But now You had become unpredictable and scary—a force I could not protect myself against.

I did my best to build a fortress. I lined my steps with desensitization, boarded up my front door with sins and shuttered the windows with raw hate.

My ego fueled by this sound protection, I marched off to rekindle my dreams. I tidied up my goals for the future, dusted off the flaws in my plan and grew increasingly uncomfortable with the present. But who cares? The present is simply a stepping stone for the future! Right?

Right! I told myself looking in the mirror. This is no fight. I thought if I desensitized myself enough to everything that He wanted, I would no longer care.

Now I am sitting in my living room, outfitted with artificial light, paper certificates and fake plants. And I think I am contending with my moral compass and sense of justice.

I hear a knock.1 Knocking.

And I know exactly who’s at the door. I am floored. Why is He here? I’ve been ignoring Him, avoiding Him, trying my best to be antithetical, even heretical. And yet He’s here? I’ve been sinning, my evil inclination winning, yet He is at my door!

I don’t know how to stomach this. To digest this, I’d have to dissect this, and frankly, I am too stunned to think. I begin to wonder ... should I open up?

The full realization that G‑d is at my door after all I’ve done is too much to handle. I feel wings grow on my back, I feel my sense of logic under attack, and suddenly, I am soaring with the knowledge that G‑d is here.2

I open the door. I don’t do anything big, I just turn a little knob. Well, a knob that has been wrapped in distance and disgust, but hey, it was such a little action. And yet ... He came in.

Such a small action, and I felt so close.3

Almost like I could forgive G‑d. Accept that there are two souls inside of me. Accept that in essence, this bad is just hidden good.

He came in and handed me a letter. It was addressed to ... me?

Unbidden, the answer rose in my mind. Yes, You. This world was made for YOU.

In a moment of surging emotion, clearly stemming from the act of opening the door, I felt my world align. Questions melted away. A desire to do the right thing filled the place of my anger, and I felt stable.

Cautiously, I opened the letter and read:

To my child,

You have been trying so hard. You have been working day and night, attempting to be better, attempting to be happier. You think that if you are not sad, you are invalidating the pain.

You are slowly realizing that the people who used to have all the solutions do not anymore.

I see how you dance around questions, skirt around answers, yet pray that they’ll keep on being asked so that you know someone still cares.

I see the days where you hide the truth from even yourself, playing hide and seek as though this is not your life on trial, your first defense denial.

I see the days where living turns to existing, and suddenly, time flies because nothing matters. The way the sun paints a picture across the sky-blue canvas, and yet your eyes do not reflect the light. And when the tears finally come, creeping like the rising sun, I want you to know every day is a new beginning. I see you, and my arms are always open.

I want to tell you that without you, I am bereft. I am alone. I love you today and tomorrow. Now and always. Libraries of thought, museums of art, every word in every language. Every stone, blade of grass, and cosmic rotation was made just for you. Revealing, expanding, contracting, shining for you.4 It would have been worth it to separate heaven from earth, to unite man and woman for your sake alone. This world with all its intricacies and hidden patterns are for you, my child.

Your sinning, it will not—cannot—break that. You are my child, as precious as an only child. If you leave my embrace for other things that call your name, just know that my voice is hoarse from trying to make you hear. Just know that I have your best interests at heart, although you claim we are apart.

I love you. This relationship is eternal. If you choose what I advise against, I still love you. And when you decide to come back to me, I will be here with overflowing infinite love. The world is still made for you.

I love you.



I was stunned. Floored. Rooted to my spot. I looked up; He was gone. But this time, I knew He wasn’t really. Only concealed perhaps, behind the door, as He had been through all my trials before. He would be right there, whether or not I went to find Him.

When I heard His knock, I felt His love. When I opened the door, I acted upon it. When He came in, I was finally happy. And now I know He is right outside, waiting there for me, as soon I take one (little) step.5

The other day, I wrote a love letter to G‑d. It said:

Dear G‑d,

I love You!

As sure as the bones in my body scream “Shatter!” I know You are the One keeping me together.

If only I’d have known that no sin can destroy our relationship, and that nothing would make You love me less! If this is so precious as to be forever, then all I do must be for You.

I cannot let this knowledge that our relationship is unbreakable cause me to do wrong; it must only strengthen my climb towards good.6 If You create the world for me, then I must permeate it with light so powerful it becomes restored to its original glory.

The moment I knew You were at my door, there for me, I knew that when the outside world tells me that it has what You do not, it is not true. Not only does it not have what You do not, but it does not have what I do not.

I do not need to look further than what You have gifted me. And when pain and anger are enmeshed together inside of me, I must remember that this pain, although it hurts to hear, is for my gain.

If You love me so much, would You really hurt me? Of course not! My animal soul is only saying that so that I turn away, but I must remember just who the animal soul is acting for.7 The G‑dly soul. And if G‑d loves me so much, how can externalities hold satisfaction and joy? It is right here, in me, aligned with You.

If I would inherently die for You in an act of sanctification that defies all logic, why should I not live for You? Nurture every moment to the fullest, draw down Your light, such as when I opened the door.8

These scuffed shackles of resentment and ambition binding me to a religion I want nothing to do with are really golden links connecting me to You, a Father who cares so much about me that He has given me an infinite piece of himself.

Today, I am committing to You. Committing to my Father, my King—the One who loves me today and forever, no matter what.



The two main deterrents to committing and dedicating our lives to G‑d are a) pain and b) desires that do not align with Torah values. But these don’t have to be obstacles. When we understand G‑d’s infinite love9 and our eternal bond with Him,10 we can be ready to commit and dedicate our lives to the service of Truth.11

This piece was a winning entry at Beis Rivkah High School’s “Chassidus is Ki” annual contest.