Dear Aslan:
You know me. You know I want to believe in You again. But we know it hasn't happened; my studies keep leading me further away from you, and every attempt I've made to rationally and reasonably believe in you has ended in failure. On top of that, none of your subjects have given me a good reason to think you're real. Many of them have insulted me, thumbed their noses at me, and passed judgment on me without hearing me out. The rest of them mean well, and they've been kind and cordial in their efforts to convince me, but no one has convinced me, and they all seem to have grown weary of me (not that I blame them).
We both know I have enormous misgivings of you, and to me they seem insurmountable. But a roar from you can change everything. So why hasn't it? Why do these misgivings still divide us? Why are all these people around me convinced that you're real, while I continue to drown in an ocean of doubt?
Please, Aslan. Please convince me you're real. Just a reply, a nudge, blessed assurance, anything to keep my head from slipping below the water.
Sincerely,
John
The Emperor-Over-Sea smiled down at his son and laid a paw on his shoulder. "What's the matter?" said the Greatest Lion. "Don't you want to hear the angels singing your praises?"
The Lesser Lion stared dully at the paper in his paw. "It's just another letter...from him..."
"Are you going to answer it?"
Aslan frowned at the letter another moment, then crumpled it up and tossed it away. "I've got friends I actually care about," he said. "He's on his own."