You? Write a memoir? What makes you think you’re so special?

 

Maybe you hear niggling, little whispers:

 

You? Write a memoir?

What makes you think you’re so special?

 

If that sounds like you, you’ll identify here with Chip MacGregor.

 

Chip sensed God wanted him to write about what He had done for him—but he felt unqualified.

 

“All I saw was a very tattered, frayed thread, broken and retied in a number of places.”

 

You know the feeling. You might be asking yourself,

 

“Who am I that I should write my stories?

I’ve made more than a few mistakes,

and besides, I’m a nobody.

I’m not a Billy Graham

or an Elizabeth Elliot.

I’m not a famous Bible teacher or author.

What could I be thinking?”

 

But Chip—bless his heart—although he was all too aware of his shortcomings, he also recognized the “tattered, frayed thread, broken and retied in a number of places” actually “wrapped around the entire story. It was the thread of redemption.”

 

Yesss! You know what I say so often here at SM 101:

 

Write your God-and-you stories

not because you are so great,

but because God is so great.

 

Chip continues, “. . . [W]hat qualifies you to tell your story is your experience of redemption.”

 

Chip and you and I can, and must, write our stories of redemption.

 

Redemption refers to the forgiveness of our sins because of God’s grace. Romans 3:23-24 acknowledges that all of us are flawed, we all have sinned and have fallen short of the glory of God, and yet we are justified by His grace as a gift, a free gift of God. It’s because of His never-ending love for each of us.

Our appropriate response is: “I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember Your wonders of old. I will ponder your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds” (Psalm 77: 11-12).

 

Your job, then, is to remember, and then write about, everyday events and relationships, about babies and teenagers and grandparents, Boy Scouts and Home Ec and your most embarrassing date, best friends and bullies and bigots.

 

Write about learning to drive, or swim, or cook, or kiss. Write about funerals and weddings and heartbreak, about honesty and lies, about money and taxes, about mowing lawns and making beds and cleaning toilets.

 

Within them all, dig deep and find the threads of redemption.

 

Peel off layers one by one until you find glorious, sobbing, humbling, joy-filled, life-saving redemption.

 

Listen: The stories of famous Christians and prominent modern-day heroes of the faith are important—but not because those people are so great. Each of them admits to being deeply flawed. Their stories matter because God is so great.

 

It’s not what they did—it’s what God did.

 

Don’t miss this:

 

Chip points out that your story of redemption

is “the journey your readers want to take.

And if we can whittle down our lives

to reveal how God has brought redemption to us,

readers will be inspired to believe it may happen to them.”

 

“Show the purpose behind the pain,” he says, “and you may bring hope to many lives.”

 

That’s it! Our hearts long to inspire others to hang in there, to be assured that God is for them, He loves them, and He has His own stories of redemption for them.

 

Don’t underestimate the power of your story.

Just one memoir can change lives

—one life, or a hundred thousand lives—

maybe for eternity.

 

“. . .  God is telling the story of redemption,” writes Diana Trautwein. “And God is using us to help tell that story. He invites us right up on stage and says, ‘Partner with me. Tell my story in your vernacular, in your specific situation.”

 

Write your God-and-you stories, your stories of redemption—not because of who you are, but because of who God is.