A heartfelt tale of inspiration, hope and redemption, Letters to God is the story of what happens when one boy’s walk of faith crosses paths with one man’s search for meaning—the resulting transformational journey touches the lives of everyone around them.
Tyler Doherty (TANNER MAGUIRE) is an extraordinary eight-year-old boy. Surrounded by a loving family and community, and armed with the courage of his faith, he faces his daily battle against cancer with bravery and grace. To Tyler, God is a friend, a teacher and the ultimate pen pal—Tyler’s prayers take the form of letters, which he composes and mails on a daily basis.
The letters find their way into the hands of Brady McDaniels (JEFFREY S.S. JOHNSON), a beleaguered postman standing at a crossroads in his life. At first, he is confused and conflicted over what to do with the letters. Overtime he begins to form a friendship with the Doherty family – getting to know not just Tyler but his tough, tender yet overwhelmed mom (ROBYN LIVELY), stalwart grandmother (MAREE CHEATHAM) and teen brother Ben (MICHAEL CHRISTOPHER BOLTEN) — who are each trying to stand strong against the doubts that come with the chaotic turn their lives have taken.
Moved by Tyler’s courage, Brady realizes what he must do with the letters, a surprise decision that will transform his heart and uplift his new found friends and community –in an exhilarating act of testament to the contagious effect of one boy’s unwavering faith against the odds.
Inspired by a true story, Letters to God is an intimate, moving and often funny story about the galvanizing effect one child’s belief can have on his family, friends and community.
Renee is 19. When I meet her, cocaine is fresh in her system. She hasn’t slept in 36 hours and she won’t for another 24. It is a familiar blur of coke, pot, pills and alcohol. She has agreed to meet us, to listen and to let us pray. We ask Renee to come with us, to leave this broken night. She says she’ll go to rehab tomorrow, but she isn’t ready now. It is too great a change. We pray and say goodbye and it is hard to leave without her.
She has known such great pain; haunted dreams as a child, the near-constant presence of evil ever since. She has felt the touch of awful naked men, battled depression and addiction, and attempted suicide. Her arms remember razor blades, fifty scars that speak of self-inflicted wounds. Six hours after I meet her, she is feeling trapped, two groups of “friends” offering opposite ideas. Everyone is asleep. The sun is rising. She drinks long from a bottle of liquor, takes a razor blade from the table and locks herself in the bathroom. She cuts herself, using the blade to write “FUCK UP” large across her left forearm.
The nurse at the treatment center finds the wound several hours later. The center has no detox, names her too great a risk, and does not accept her. For the next five days, she is ours to love. We become her hospital and the possibility of healing fills our living room with life. It is unspoken and there are only a few of us, but we will be her church, the body of Christ coming alive to meet her needs, to write love on her arms.
She is full of contrast, more alive and closer to death than anyone I’ve known, like a Johnny Cash song or some theatre star. She owns attitude and humor beyond her 19 years, and when she tells me her story, she is humble and quiet and kind, shaped by the pain of a hundred lifetimes. I sit privileged but breaking as she shares. Her life has been so dark yet there is some soft hope in her words, and on consecutive evenings, I watch the prettiest girls in the room tell her that she’s beautiful. I think it’s God reminding her.
I’ve never walked this road, but I decide that if we’re going to run a five-day rehab, it is going to be the coolest in the country. It is going to be rock and roll. We start with the basics; lots of fun, too much Starbucks and way too many cigarettes
more Thursday night she is in the balcony for Band Marino, Orlando’s finest. They are indie-folk-fabulous, a movement disguised as a circus. She loves them and she smiles when I point out the A&R man from Atlantic Europe, in town from London just to catch this show.
She is in good seats when the Magic beat the Sonics the next night, screaming like a lifelong fan with every Dwight Howard dunk. On the way home, we stop for more coffee and books, Blue Like Jazz and (Anne Lamott’s) Travelling Mercies.
On Saturday, the Taste of Chaos tour is in town and I’m not even sure we can get in, but doors do open and minutes after parking, we are on stage for Thrice, one of her favorite bands. She stands ten feet from the drummer, smiling constantly. It is a bright moment there in the music, as light and rain collide above the stage. It feels like healing. It is certainly hope.
Sunday night is church and many gather after the service to pray for Renee, this her last night before entering rehab. Some are strangers but all are friends tonight. The prayers move from broken to bold, all encouraging. We’re talking to God but I think as much, we’re talking to her, telling her she’s loved, saying she does not go alone. One among us knows her best. Ryan sits in the corner strumming an acoustic guitar, singing songs she’s inspired.
After church our house fills with friends, there for a few more moments before goodbye. Everyone has some gift for her, some note or hug or piece of encouragement. She pulls me aside and tells me she would like to give me something. I smile surprised, wondering what it could be. We walk through the crowded living room, to the garage and her stuff.
She hands me her last razor blade, tells me it is the one she used to cut her arm and her last lines of cocaine five nights before. She’s had it with her ever since, shares that tonight will be the hardest night and she shouldn’t have it. I hold it carefully, thank her and know instantly that this moment, this gift, will stay with me. It hits me to wonder if this great feeling is what Christ knows when we surrender our broken hearts, when we trade death for life.
As we arrive at the treatment center, she finishes: “The stars are always there but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. We miss them in the storms. Tell them to remember hope. We have hope.”
I have watched life come back to her, and it has been a privilege. When our time with her began, someone suggested shifts but that is the language of business. Love is something better. I have been challenged and changed, reminded that love is that simple answer to so many of our hardest questions. Don Miller says we’re called to hold our hands against the wounds of a broken world, to stop the bleeding. I agree so greatly.
We often ask God to show up. We pray prayers of rescue. Perhaps God would ask us to be that rescue, to be His body, to move for things that matter. He is not invisible when we come alive. I might be simple but more and more, I believe God works in love, speaks in love, is revealed in our love. I have seen that this week and honestly, it has been simple: Take a broken girl, treat her like a famous princess, give her the best seats in the house. Buy her coffee and cigarettes for the coming down, books and bathroom things for the days ahead. Tell her something true when all she’s known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true.
We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don’t get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won’t solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we’re called home.
I have learned so much in one week with one brave girl. She is alive now, in the patience and safety of rehab, covered in marks of madness but choosing to believe that God makes things new, that He meant hope and healing in the stars. She would ask you to remember.
Have you ever been in a situation and thought there’s just no way this can happen but I’m going to give it everything I have? Ever faced an insurmountable wall that you didn’t think in a million years you could topple? A guy by the name of Henry Blackaby did!
When the World’s Fair came to Canada back in 1986. Blackaby saw an opportunity to reach more than 22 million people with the message of the gospel. You know that sounds great but ya see there was just a few problems though: The association of churches that Blackaby served in Vancouver had just about 2,000 members and a budget of less than $9,000 a year. Still convinced of God’s leading, Blackaby set a budget of $202,000, prayed and trusted God to do the rest. God didn’t disappoint!! By the end of the year more than $264,000 had come in from all over the world and some 20,000 people began personal relationships with Christ through the efforts of a small but faithful band of believers.
The Israelites had their own wall to topple before they could enter the promised land. The wall they faced surrounded Jericho, a forfeited city with “walls up to the sky” (Deuteronomy 9:1). When the Israelites arrived, Jericho’s residents had just completed the spring harvest and the city’s wells were brimming with spring rain. Archaeological experts estimate that the inhabitants probably could have held out for several years. Defeating the city was one of the history’s most unlikely and humanly impossible victories. Yet the people of God accomplished it–not with trumpets and shouting but with obedience to God’s directives.
Perhaps you find yourself staring up at an insurmountable wall that God is calling you to conquer–a wall that seems as frightening as it is large. Maybe your wall is a task that seems impossible or a goal too incredible to imagine. I’m sure the Church Planters who are still in the beginning stages can definitely relate. Or Maybe your wall is a repeating pattern of sin you haven’t been able to overcome on your own (Lust, lying, unforgiveness, masturbation etc).
Many things in life look like Jericho’s wall–obstacles that stand in the way of what God wants us to accomplish for him. But guys in the hard times we have to trust our God and claim his promises! When we realize the power we have IN CHRIST we will be able to move forward with faith, topple our walls and walk victoriously over the rubble!
“The future belongs to those who set their sights on what is humanly unattainable”
Wilbur Howard
Some more info on Henry Blackaby
http://www.blackaby.org/
