I can’t believe it’s been four years since I first wrote you that letter on December 20, 2020. At the time, I didn’t know who you were — not fully. I only knew what God whispered to my heart. He told me to write, to speak life into a man I had never met, to weep for a love that felt ancient and familiar. What I didn’t realize then was that my obedience to write that letter wasn’t just about you — it was about me discovering who I am.
You decided to marry someone else out of the blue. I still remember the shock of it — how reality hit like a wave that stole the air from my lungs. I can’t believe you knew who I was and still chose a different woman. You got a wife, but not your purpose partner. That truth used to hurt in a way I couldn’t even put into words. But pain can become revelation when you let God interpret it.
Apostle Matthew Stevenson III once said, “There is nothing greater than reality except revelation.” And I’ve learned the truth of that statement in the deepest way. Reality told me you were gone. Revelation told me that nothing was wasted. God let me see beyond what was happening to what He was forming. The revelation He gave me sustained me — it taught me that love doesn’t die just because it isn’t reciprocated. It evolves, it sanctifies, it matures.
Discovering you in the beginning was a dream come true, even if the ending wasn’t what I expected. Watching you evolve into the man God called you to be — even from afar — was like watching a movie. You once said, “I almost coded,” and thanked me for giving love another chance, saying this time it would be forever. I thought that meant us. But now I know, that word was for my healing — not our union. God resurrected a part of me that had been buried under disappointment.
When I thought it was the end, Jesus showed up. Just like Lazarus, love came walking out of the tomb wrapped in new understanding. What I found wasn’t just you — it was the me that believed again. Finding you was recovering the part of my heart that still believed in divine purpose, covenant love, and destiny.
You were my King. You were my lion and my lamb. But I’ve learned that being my King doesn’t mean being my husband. God let me see who you were so I could understand who I am. The revelation was about was about preparation.
In my husband’s letter I wrote on January 19, 2021, I described you before I knew you. I see now that I was prophesying — not predicting. Every word I wrote about sacrifice, endurance, and love that lasts forever, was a mirror God held up for me. He was showing me the kind of woman I was becoming — built to last, even when love doesn’t go as planned.
We were forged in fire separately so that we could become fortified in purpose individually. You became who you needed to be for someone else. And I became who I was meant to be — for God, for purpose, and for the love story that’s still unfolding for me.
You taught me that even unfulfilled love can be holy. That’s the beauty of revelation. I can celebrate what was, honor what could have been, and still look forward to what will be. Because even when you chose someone else, I rest knowing God still chose me.
Forever,
Marie