Eliana got married to Bryan in January 1978, and in the fall of 1983, after five deep years of love together, Bryan was deployed to Russia as an army officer. Everyone’s heart who knew them was shattered. The lover birds were being separated. And where was the certainty that Bryan would be back?
As he answered the nation’s call, Eliana hung onto Bryan’s shoulders uncontrollably. Bryan sniffed wetly and kissed her over and over again. He promised her he would always be near, no matter the distance.
And almost as soon as he was gone, he kept his word.
Letters began to arrive.
The letters came often. So often that, after some time, Eliana tied them together with a ribbon and carried them as one bundle.
You would see her with the letters everywhere. In the kitchen, the bundle rested beside her while she cooked. In the bathroom, placed carefully on a small stool. On the street, tucked under her arm as she walked. Even when she sat down to rest, the letters were never far from her reach.
People noticed.
The post office noticed first. Letters addressed to Eliana arrived so frequently that the clerks began to smile when they saw her name. Eventually, they stopped using ‘Eliana’. They simply called her the letter girl.
The name spread quickly, and before long, everyone in the village was calling her that.
And it made sense.
There was something touching about her. Something admirable. Many women quietly thought to themselves how wonderful it must be to be loved like that. To be married to a man whose letters came so faithfully.
And to treasure those letters so much that you wanted them with you at all times. Some even joked that she might as well bind them to her head, the way she carried them everywhere.
Then one day, because of that fame, she was invited to a radio station.
They wanted to hear from her. They wanted to talk to the letter girl. The hosts welcomed her warmly and spoke about her with admiration. They leaned forward and began to ask questions about the letters.
They asked her to share.
They asked her to quote.
They asked her to tell them what her husband wrote.
She smiled. She nodded. She answered…
But the answers hovered.
They stayed on the surface.
They never quite landed anywhere.
The hosts tried again. This time, more gently. More directly. The questions kept coming. Simple for a little child to be able to answer at least.
The studio grew quiet, and slowly, uncomfortably as something became clear:
Eliana, the lover bride, the letter girl, had the letters.
She carried the letters.
She was known for the letters.
But she did not know them!
The silence in the studio lingered longer than anyone expected at the shocking reality.
One of the hosts shifted in his chair. Another cleared her throat and glanced at her notes, then back at Eliana.
Someone finally asked, almost casually, as though it were an afterthought, “Do you… read the letters?”
Eliana chuckled softly.
“Well,” she said, “I collect them. I keep them. I don’t lose them.”
Another host leaned forward. “But do you read them? From start to finish?”
She paused. Just a little too long.
“I read parts,” she said. “Sometimes.”
The room changed.
They tried again, gently. “We are talking about these letters, Eliana. The very ones you are holding right now. You don’t read them”
Her answers came thin. Short. Slippery. She spoke about how often the letters arrived. About how precious they were to her. About how careful she was never to misplace them.
But when the conversation turned to the words themselves, there was nothing to hold on to.
Someone finally asked the question everyone else was thinking. “Do you write back to him?”
“Oh yes,” she said quickly. “I always reply.”
“And what do you usually write?”
She explained that she thanked him for writing. She mentioned the children. She spoke about everyday things. Sometimes she asked him to send money or help with certain needs.
One of the hosts looked at her, with deep disbelief. “So you thank him for the letters… but you don’t respond to what he actually says in them?”
She didn’t answer right away.
The admiration they had for her melted into confusion. The smiles waned.
How could someone carry letters everywhere and not know what was written in them?
How could she speak so fondly of them and yet never be shaped by their words?
How could she be known for the letters and still be untouched by their contents?
Someone said it aloud, almost without meaning to. “If you loved him… wouldn’t you take his words seriously? Would his words live in you?”
And that was when the story stopped being about her.
Because suddenly, it felt familiar.
Or does it not feel familiar to you, dear daughter of God?
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Maybe you, too, have a nickname.
God’s delight.
Jesus’ girl.
Father’s favourite.
Maybe people know you for your Bible. They see you carrying it around. They hear you talk about God often. They know you go to church. They admire you for it.
And yet… do you know His words?
Our Lord wrote us sixty-six letters.
Sixty-six.
Do you know them?
Do you recognise His voice in them?
Do His words live in you, or do you simply carry the Book that holds them?
When questions come, do His words rise within you, or do you only have to search for someone else to explain Him to you?
When lies sound convincing, do you know enough truth to tell the difference?
When your heart is shaken, do His words steady you, or do you reach for something else?
Many of us have become experts at carrying the letters.
We carry them to church.
We carry them to meetings.
We carry them in our bags and on our phones.
But we have not read them deeply enough to be changed by them.
Sisters, love letters are not meant to be collected only.
They are meant to be read.
Meant to be returned to.
Meant to be loved and enjoyed.
Meant to be remembered.
Meant to be held close in the heart.
But there is no hunger in so many.
And if there is hunger, it is just a slight little tip of the iceberg.
Sisters, hunger matters!
The Word of the Lord was giving to us to be consumed voraciously John 6:52-56
Be hungry for God, sis! Let hunger rise from your inside!
Oliver Twist: The ‘More’ Boy
You have probably heard the story of Oliver Twist, the young boy who was never satisfied with the small portions of food served to him at the orphanage. Again and again, he dared to ask for more. And each time, he was scolded, beaten, or labelled greedy and inconsiderate.
But if we look a little closer at his story, there is something about Oliver that is worth paying attention to. It takes courage to ask for more. It takes boldness to refuse quiet starvation. And in a strange way, his hunger and his willingness to voice it is something many of us have lost.
Sadly, this same pattern has crept into our Christian lives.
Many of us have been raised to survive only on what is served to us. The Sunday sermon. The midweek Bible study. The monthly fellowship meeting. A short family devotional. A quick personal quiet time squeezed in between responsibilities. We take a little here and a little there, and over time we learn not to ask for more.
We become comfortable with being spiritually fed by others, but hesitant to press in ourselves.
Also Read: Depending on Pastors keeps You Spirituallly Stunted
This culture quietly trains us to stay outside the veil. It keeps us from daring to go beyond what is familiar, beyond what is routine, beyond what is handed to us. And so we never truly behold what lies beyond the torn curtain. We never linger in the Holy of Holies. We never fully encounter the weight of God’s presence, His glory, His depth.
Yet Scripture tells a different story.
What Does the Scriptures Say About ‘More’?
It is the one who dares to ask for more who receives first. The one who opens her mouth wide. The one who refuses spiritual starvation, even if she risks being misunderstood, labelled excessive, or told she is asking for too much. Matthew 5:6
The Lord Himself says in Psalm 81 verse 10:
“I am the LORD your God, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt. Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it.”
So, dear sis, the Lord does not rebuke hunger. He invites it. He stirs it. He longs for it. He promises to respond to it.
Unlike Oliver Twist, who was punished for his request, your Father in Heaven says He is simply waiting for you to ask. Jesus confirms this assurance in John 6:37 when He says:
“The one who comes to me I will never cast out.”
If you dare to hunger for more of Him, more understanding, more truth, more of His presence, more clarity in His Word, He will not turn you away. He will fill you with light. He will open your eyes to wondrous things in Scripture. He will strengthen you with truth that cuts, heals, and transforms like a two-edged sword.
So the question is this: are you ready to break away from the status quo?
Are you willing to eat until you are truly filled, again and again? Are you ready to put your roots down deeply in God so that your life can bear fruit upward? Do you desire a walk with Jesus that is deeper, richer, and more alive than anything you have known so far?
If your answer is yes, then come and see.
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Here Comes Your Opportunity for ‘More’
Do you desire to follow through your Bible study with fire in the new year?
Do you desire to really grow?
Sweeter Than the Honeycomb Bible Studies is that opportunity and it starts in January 2026 by God’s grace.
It is an invitation to feed deliberately on God’s Word in a community of longing sisters. To sit with Scripture long enough for it to become sweet, strong, and sustaining. To fall in love with the Bible again. Here, we compare Scripture with Scripture. We learn true doctrine. We grow in discernment. We commit passages to memory. We learn how to handle the Word rightly and walk it out practically.
It is for women who are hungry; women who want roots, not just a passing breeze.
If this is you; if you have ever felt that there must be more in God’s Word than what you have tasted so far, this space was created for you.
Come and eat.
Come and learn.
Come and grow with other sisters who are hungry for the same thing.
The Word is sweeter than the honeycomb. And there is more than enough.
Read all about it here. Registration close on the 18th December, 2025 by His grace. God bless you, sis.
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