Tuesday Tidbit: Your memoir, "an instrument of transformation for others”

“Don’t get rid of the pain

until you’ve learned its lessons.

When you hold the pain consciously and trust fully,

you are in a very special liminal space.

This is a great teaching moment

where you have the possibility of breaking through

to a deeper level of faith and consciousness.

Hold the pain of being human

until God transforms you through it.

And then you will be

an instrument of transformation

for others. . . .”

(Richard Rohr, adapted from 

The Authority of Those Who Have Suffered)

That’s what 2 Corinthians 1:4 is about:

“[God] comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us” (NLT).

That’s what your memoir can do for others.

How amazing is that?!

Be sure to check out these related posts:

“Unveiling all the painful truths”

Find healing through the process of writing our memoir

  

Are you wounded? There’s hope for you.

“Nobody escapes being wounded.

We all are wounded people, whether physically, emotionally,

mentally, or spiritually.

The main question is not ‘How can we hide our wounds?’

so we don’t have to be embarrassed

but ‘How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?’

When our wounds cease to be a source of shame

and become a source of healing,

we have become wounded healers.”

(Henri Nouwen, Bread for the Journey, July 8 selection)

Some people write memoirs about good, happy experiences.

We can read memoirs about adventure, about raising kids, traveling, falling in love, teaching, and about succeeding in any number of ways. And they are all so good, so powerful, so inspirational.

But some people write memoirs about their wounds and brokenness—results of their own foolishness or someone else’s evil inflicted upon them.

Wounded people’s memoirs can be good, too, and powerful, and inspirational.

How can that be?

Because of what we learn from 2 Corinthians 1:3-4. It’s so important! Make time to take it all in!

Let God use your wounds and your words

to comfort others with the comfort He has given you.

In that way, you can be what Henri Nouwen called

a “wounded healer.”

I believe that in the process of sharing your story,

God will continue to heal your wounds!

Hurting people out there need to know your story,

need to know how you survived,

need to know how God has sustained you

and gave you reasons to live and thrive.

Your story is important!

Write your story!

“Hope is the answer” and you’re cleared to go

“During my intense grieving moments,” writes Dana Goodman, “other people’s stories gave me words to describe the ache that was indescribable. They gave me hope that a new day would dawn, and I would not be stuck in the black forever.”

Hope.

“Sharing hope truly is the heart of this writing business,” writes Mick Silva. “Words are like packaging. They’re pretty or flashy or sad or boring. And while everyone appreciates good packaging, ultimately it’s the hope inside them that matters…. We each have to ask…whether we want to share hope or not.”

Read that again. “We each have to ask…whether we want to share hope or not.” That zings, doesn’t it?

The Bible tells us to comfort others

with the comfort we’ve received from God.

(2 Corinthians 1:4)

Your memoir can do that.

That means writing your memoir is not a hobby, it’s a ministry.

Eugene Peterson suggests the church should ordain writers in the way they ordain pastors.

“There are never enough storytellers,” he says. “There are a lot of people who want to write stories but they don’t want to go through the discipline, the agony, the immersion in life it requires…. I think writing is one of the sacred callings. I wish, in fact, that the church would ordain writers the way they ordain pastors….”

Is that a new thought to you?

If so, make time to ask yourself these questions:

How different would your writing be if you viewed yourself as ordained to tell your story?

Can you—will you—consider yourself ordained to tell your story?

Let’s take a minute to ponder: What does it mean to be ordained?

It means to be approved, authorized, appointed, anointed, selected, and chosen.

It means to be commissioned, empowered, assigned, entrusted, and consecrated. And cleared to go.

Last Thursday I asked, “If your scars could talk, what stories would they tell?”

Have you thought about that question in the past few days?

Maybe something or someone maimed you, left you blemished, flawed, maybe even deformed—maybe in little ways, maybe in massive ways. Perhaps they left you broken, immobilized. Some scars are visible, some are hidden inside.

But remember: A scar is evidence of healing.

How did God transform your wounds into scars?

Who and what did God use to bring healing?

As a result of your experience, what hope can you pass on to others?

Are you now super-inspired to write your story? Please say Yes!

Believe God has

approved, authorized, appointed you.

He has anointed, selected, and chosen you.

Believe God has

commissioned, empowered, assigned you.

He has entrusted, and consecrated you

to carry out our key verses:

Always remember, and never forget,

what you’ve seen God do for you,

and be sure to tell your children and grandchildren.

Deuteronomy 4:9

Jesus said, “Go tell your family everything

God has done for you.”

Luke 8:39

Like Kellie McGann said, “Hope is the answer your readers are searching for…. Tell them they’re not alone in their dark night of the soul.”

“…Writing your story is the only way

to truly express what God did.

And you can’t believe just how remarkable he is

until you step back and see it for yourself.”

Mick Silva, Higher Purpose Writers

Your story can change a life.

Someone needs the hope you can offer.

So hear this:

You know what you’ve been commissioned to do,

and you—you—are cleared to go.

What’s the point?

Let me tell you about three men who try my patience.

Two of them, authors (as part of their professions), are famous throughout North America and Britain. You'd recognize their names but I won't identify them because one is a friend and I don't want to embarrass him.

The third is a friend and, because there's no way he'll ever read this blog post, I'll tell you his name: Len.  

What drives me crazy about these three is a little flaw in communication style.

Let's start with Len. Dozes of times my husband and I have sat around a dinner table with Len and his wife. Len has A Point to make but instead of stating it, he lists stats and tells an interesting little story and gives out more stats and tells another story, all the while circling around and around The Point—but he never states The Point.

A legendary cross country coach, Len often talks about a runner's performance but, since I'm only slightly acquainted with cross country, I can't figure out if Len's stats and tales make The Point that the runner is a potential Olympic athlete or a pathetic has-been with no future in cross country. Len talks all around The Point but never states The Point. It's clear to him, but not to every one of his listeners.

The two authors do the same in their writing. They are passionate about their messages but, like Len, they approach The Point from various angles and talk circles around The Point without ever stating The Point. The point is obvious to them, but not to every one of their readers.

Recently I read a memoir by my friend and in numerous places I struggled to make sense of it. I read many passages several times but rarely figured out the guy's Point.

Honestly, I was worried: Was I showing the first signs of dementia?

I persevered to the end, though, and set the book aside, befuddled. And worried about my brain.

I've read several books since then and had no trouble comprehending them.

Now I'm reading my friend's book again. I'm still having trouble figuring out The Points but this time I'm not worried about dementia. Now I know the problem: It's his communication style.

He doesn't realize he's not fully communicating—he has a blind spot.

We all have blind spots. That's why we need others to read our rough drafts and give us honest critiques.

So here's My Point: Spell out Your Points.

The vignettes—the stories, the accounts—that you write into your memoir are important: They illustrate a principle or lesson you learned, something valuable you want to share with your readers.

It’s fine to list stats and include anecdotes and examine Your Point from various angles but, when the time is right, draw everything together in a specific statement that makes Your Point clear for readers. Jesse Hines says it this way: “… crystallize it in one short, snappy sentence.”

“Many writers have a general idea of what they want to say….

[T]hey start out writing,

touching on their topic from different angles,

and including every bit of information

they think is relevant.

The writing may end up readable

and professional sounding,

but the readers will come away thinking that,

while they understood the gist of the author’s intent,

they can’t precisely say what the take-home point was.

This is usually because the writer

never really knew what it was either.”

Jesse Hines (emphasis mine)

So, while you revise and polish your memoir, focus on clarity: Ask yourself: 

• Do I know what My Point is?/Points are?
• Does my vignette/chapter/entire memoir state The Point?
• Will my readers grasp the take-home point, the takeaway?

When you’ve finished your manuscript, or a vignette or a chapter, ask a fellow writer to critique it. Ask him or her to check for clarity.

Critique partners are valuable allies in this often-mysterious journey called writing. Their blind spots are different from yours, which is a blessing because they help you discover parts of your stories that need changes. Your goal is to make your stories as clear as they can be for the sake of your readers, and a critique partner can help you do that.

Your story matters.

Your memoir can serve as:

• a bridge between you and others,
• a way for others to benefit from lessons you’ve learned and insights you’ve gained,
• an instrument to promote forgiveness and understanding,
• an means of offering hope,
• a way to comfort others with the comfort God has given you (2 Corinthians 1:4).

"At times our own light goes out and is rekindled 

by a spark from another person. 

Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude 

of those who have lighted the flame within us." 

Albert Schweitzer