Write your memoir “on the cutting edge of what’s going on in God’s heart”

 

“In Raise Up A Standard—A Challenge to Christian Writers,

Michael Phillips asks,

‘Do we want to write

the sensational or the significant?

He challenges Christian writers

‘to be on the cutting edge, not of trends,

not of what’s going on in publishing . . .

but to be on the cutting edge

of what’s going on in God’s heart. . . .

If you believe in your message,

don’t give up on it.

Don’t water it down.

Don’t sensationalize it

just to get published

or to try to make it a best-seller.

Stand firm, in integrity and truthfulness,

for what God has given you to communicate.’”

(Eureka, CA: Sunrise Books, pp. 29-31).”

 (From Marlene Bagnull’s Write His Answer:

A Bible Study for Christian Writers.)

 

I like that: In writing memoir, let’s “be on the cutting edge of what’s going on in God’s heart.”

 

After all, here at SM 101, we consider our writing to be a ministry, not a hobby. (Be sure to click on Do you think of yourself as an ordained writer?)

 

Remember what Deuteronomy 4:9 says: “Always remember what you’ve seen God do and be sure to tell your children and grandchildren.”

 

And in Luke 8:39, Jesus said, “Go, tell your family everything God has done for you.”

 

Accomplishing that, however, can be a daunting task.

 

How can any mere human do what Michael Phillips said:

to know, and then to write, on the cutting edge

of what’s going on in God’s heart?

 

Henri Nouwen tells us how to begin, how to end, and how to accomplish everything in between. He uses the word “solitude.”

 

“. .  We are usually surrounded by so much outer noise that it is hard to truly hear our God. . . . We need to learn to listen to God, who constantly speaks but whom we seldom hear.”

 

We need, he says, “a life in which there is some free inner space where we can listen to our God and follow His guidance. . . .

 

“Solitude begins with a time and a place for God,

and God alone. . . .

We need to set aside a time and space

to give God our undivided attention.

(Matthew 6:6)”

(Henry J.W. Nouwen, Making All Things New and Other Classics) 

(Also click on “Bringing Solitude Into Our Lives,

Excerpts from MAKING ALL THINGS New”.)

 

Always remember: Your story is important. God can use it to shape the lives of your children, grandchildren, great-grands, and anyone else who reads your story, including the “spiritual” children God has given you. Not all of us have children, but we all have “spiritual” children who look up to us and model their lives after ours—more than we realize.

 

You know from experience

how powerful other people’s stories can be.

Many of them inspired you,

opened new worlds,

sent you in different and better directions,

and made you who you are today.

 

Believe this:

Your story can impact your readers

in the same way.

 

While you write the rough draft of your memoir,

ask God to show you what He wants you to communicate.

 

Set aside time for listening to God for His answer.

 

Take Henri Nouwen’s advice:

Make time to spend quality time with God,

in solitude with Him.

Give Him your undivided attention.

 

And then write your stories.

 

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.

 

Partnering with God in telling your story and His

 My computer is misbehaving so today's post will be brief. I hope . . . I trust . . . you'll find much to cherish in Diana Trautwein's quote below. 

Let it be your inspiration 

• to begin your memoir,
• or to keep writing your memoir,
• or to finish writing your memoir!

Someone needs to know your story. 

It's important. 

Keep up the good work. 

Think of it as ministry, not a hobby. 

Offer it up to God as an act of worship.

“A time to be born and a time to die”

One dear lady gasped in horror when I said,

In writing your memoir, teach your readers how to live,

but do more than that: Teach them how to die.

I was leading a memoir class and the lady apparently thought I meant we should teach readers how to commit suicide. No, no, no! That’s not what I meant!

I was thinking along these lines:

“There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die. . . .”

(Ecclesiastes 3:1-2)

In retrospect I should have said:

Write stories that show readers how to live well and,

when their time comes, how to die well.

Most of us feel uncomfortable discussing dying and death. Diana Trautwein writes of the “sinking queasiness, this revelation and recognition that death is an unavoidable part of life. . . .”

In her blog post, Reflections of Mortality and Holy Week, Diana addresses the fact that “death happens everywhere. We are surrounded by it, entangled by it,” yet “we cover it up, tuck it away, move it aside.”

Yes, the experiences of death and dying remain elusive and mysterious and can be scary, especially for young people, so let’s explore the topic in our memoirs—for the benefit of both ourselves and our readers.

The following, by Max Lucado, will stir up new considerations for you:

“You, as all God’s children, live one final breath from your own funeral. Which, from God’s perspective, is nothing to grieve. He responds to these grave facts with this news: ‘The day you die is better than the day you were born’ (Ecclesiastes 7:1). 

“Now there is a twist. Heaven enjoys a maternity-ward reaction to funerals. Angels watch body burials the same way grandparents monitor delivery-room doors. ‘He’ll be coming through any minute!’ They can’t wait to see their new arrival. While we’re driving hearses and wearing black, they’re hanging pink and blue streamers and passing out cigars. . . .” (Max Lucado, “When Death Becomes Birth,” from Come Thirsty)

If you’re not afraid to die, write a vignette explaining why.

“ . . . Someday God will wipe away your tears. The same hands that stretched the heavens will touch your cheeks. The same hands that formed the mountains will caress your face. . . .” (Max Lucado, The Applause of Heaven)

At the end of your time on earth, what will it be like to stand before God face to face, one on one?

Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 13:12, “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”

For years I’ve asked myself, “What will it be like, face to face with God, the Almighty, the Creator, knowing Him fully even as He knows me?”

I envision the scene: I am surrounded by His blinding-brilliant glory—and I am speechless.

I imagine I’ll fall on my face, sobbing in worship and wonder and gratitude.

What about you? What do you envision?

What stories can you write 

to help readers ponder life and death 

and God and heaven? 

What stories will show readers how to live well and, 

when their time on earth draws to an end, 

how to die well?

Don’t think for a minute that this has nothing to do with you

Reading time: 2 minutes, 26 seconds

Listen to what I have to say today. It’s important. 

It’s not my message, and it’s not Frederick Buechner’s message. I’m pretty sure God sat beside dear old Fred and helped him write. And then Fred shared the important info, and now I’m passing it on to you.

Fred writes about what a preacher must do—not necessarily does but should do—while standing in his or her pulpit. Having read that, don’t think for a minute that this has nothing to do with you.

Erase all thoughts you might have in your head that might sound like: “I’m not a preacher. I don’t stand in a pulpit on Sundays with a message from God.”

Don’t even think such thoughts.

Why?

Because writing your memoir is not a hobby, not a pastime, not a fun thing you do when you have a few leisure minutes to yourself.

Writing your memoir is a ministry, a sacred calling, a holy project.

Eugene Peterson suggested that churches should ordain writers the way they ordain pastors.

Serving God as a writer is, indeed, a heavy, humbling responsibility.

Did you think I’d forgotten about Frederick Buechner? It took me a while to get back to his message but here it is.

Read it slowly—

recognizing yourself as a writer ordained—

as if you were a pastor ordained—

to share a message from God Himself.

Read Fred’s words several times.

Ask yourself what his message means to you 

as a pastor-preacher/memoirist.

Frederick Buechner writes:

“ . . . Let him take heart. He is called not to be an actor, a magician, in the pulpit. He is called to be himself.

“He is called to tell the truth as he has experienced it. He is called to be human . . . . If he does not make real . . . the human experience of what it is to cry into the storm and receive no answer, to be sick at heart and find no healing, then he becomes the only one there who seems not to have had that experience because most surely under their bonnets and shawls and jackets, under their afros and ponytails, all the others there have had it whether they talk of it or not.

“As much as anything else, it is their experience of the absence of God that has brought them there in search of his presence, and if the preacher does not speak of that and to that, then he becomes like the captain of a ship who is the only one aboard who either does not know that the waves are twenty feet high and the decks awash or will not face up to it so that anything else he tries to say by way of hope and comfort and empowering becomes suspect on the basis of that one crucial ignorance or disingenuousness or cowardice or reluctance to speak in love any truths but the ones that people love to hear.” (Frederick Buechner, Telling the Truth; emphasis mine)

Frederick Buechner is calling us memoirists to be real, to refuse to merely entertain, to refuse to think of ourselves primarily as actors or magicians.

He’s confronting us, telling us to face up to what needs to be said. He’s urging us to tell it like it is rather than sugarcoating life and faith.

He’s calling out to us, reminding us that we have a sacred task—the responsibility to write about what hurts, about prayers God doesn’t seem to answer, about the terrors in the night.

Writing those truths can be painful. It requires courage and integrity and tenacity. Are you up to the task?

Ponder Fred’s words. Apply them to your memoir.

If you will take to heart Fred’s challenge, your memoir can speak to those who pick it up in search of God’s presence. It can speak to those who long to spot a little light in their darkness, to those who desperately need hope.

Don’t avoid writing the hard stuff, the mysterious stuff.

You can do this.

Pray!

You? Write a memoir?

Chip MacGregor made my day. If you read on to find out why, you’ll know what a memoir-geek I am.

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?

Maybe you hear those hissing little whispers: You? Write a memoir? Wait a minute! What makes you think you’re so special?

You might be asking, “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 a Chuck Swindoll or an Elisabeth Elliot or a minister or a best-selling author. What could I be thinking?”

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

Yessss! That’s what I’ve been saying, in my own words, of course: 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!

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 the lawn 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 people like Billy Graham, Chuck Swindoll, Elisabeth Elliot, and other modern-day heroes of the faith are important—but not because those people are so great. Each of them admit to being deeply flawed. Their stories matter because God is so great.

Hear this: It’s not what they did—it’s what God did.

God called us with a holy calling,

not according to our works

but according to his own purposes and grace.

2 Timothy 1:9

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.”

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 story can change lives—

one life, or a hundred thousand lives—

maybe for eternity. 

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

Tuesday Tidbit: Partnering

Here is today's 15 seconds of inspiration,

your Tuesday Tidbit.

The truth of Diana's words fills me with wonder. How about you?

dianatrautwein.com/2014/08/living-with-the-truth

“One of the great challenges of the writer is to produce a text that will …”

Donald M. Murray tells about reading a World War II story and interpreting it through his own experience as a paratrooper in that war.

His wife worked in the Pentagon during World War II and when she reads the same book, “she will read a different book,” says Murray in The Craft of Revision.

Murray continues, “When my daughters, who were … raised during the Vietnam era, read it, they will each read a still different text.”

In the same way, your memoir’s readers will interpret your stories through their own experiences and historical eras.

Murray says:

“One of the great challenges of the writer is to produce a text that will cause readers to draw on their different experiences and still understand what we have to say.”

How can you write stories from your past that will resonate with readers growing up in a different epoch? Perhaps some of your readers have not yet been born!

“The first step,” Murray says, “is to recognize that our world may be different from the reader’s.”

In addition to recognizing readers will live in a different historical setting, he says, “We must recognize that our readers may not share our religion; our political party; [or] our economic perspective.…”

In writing a book about World War II, Murray says, “I must remember that my readers may not know what an M-1—our rifle—was, or a C-45—the two-engine troop-carrier plane from which we jumped. They may never have heard of the Maginot Line … or the SS …; may not even know of the Holocaust.…”

Imagine the year is 2040 and your great-grandson, age twenty-five, is reading your memoir.

Will he understand that when your house caught fire in 1962, you could not run outside with your phone to call the fire department because phones were attached to the wall with a cord? And that’s why you had to stay inside to call for help, and that’s why your pajamas caught fire? And that’s why your legs have scars?

If you came of age during the Vietnam era, especially if you or a loved one was drafted into the military, you’ll want readers to understand the political, social, and religious factors that divided and rocked our nation during those years. (You’ll probably need to explain what the draft was, too.)

Charlie Hale has compiled several brilliant pieces about both World War II and the war in Vietnam, including I Remember: Viet Nam, my friends, and Memorial Day.

Over at Diana Trautwein’s blog, she writes “It was the mid 1960’s and the escalating war in Vietnam brought deep soul-searching for many men of draft-able age. My husband had a unique up-bringing which led to an unusual choice, a choice which took him far away from the jungles of [Vietnam].… A saving grace in the draft process was to register as a 1-W—a ‘person opposed to bearing arms by reason of personal religious conviction.’ And that’s exactly what my husband had done.… He had registered as a conscientious objector (CO) … [and] that meant two years of service offered in lieu of joining the military. My husband wanted to do those two years somewhere far from home.…” (from An African Journal—Post One: Beneath the Surface)

If you want to witness a master craftsman make history come alive, take seven minutes at Charlie Hale’s blog for his video, The Images, Stories, and Songs of War. He uses black and white photos, songs of the era, and his concise narrative to capture both World War II and Vietnam—and their stark differences. It is a riveting piece.

Learn from Donald M. Murray, Charlie Hale, and Diana Trautwein. Capture the social, political, religious, and economic milieu of your life stories. Your history and your world are different from those of your readers but with a bit of effort, you can do what Murray says: “produce a text that will cause readers to draw on their different experiences and still understand what [you] have to say.” 

“A time to be born and a time to die”

One dear lady gasped in horror when I said,

In writing your stories, teach your readers how to live,

but do more than that: Teach them how to die.

I was teaching a memoir class at the New Tribes Missions’ training center and apparently she thought I meant we should teach our readers how to commit suicide. No, no, no! That’s not what I meant!

I was thinking more along the lines of: “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die…” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2).

Maybe I should have said:

Write stories that show readers how to live well and,

when their time comes, how to die well.

Most of us feel uncomfortable discussing dying and death. Diana Trautwein writes of the “sinking queasiness, this revelation and recognition that death is an unavoidable part of life.…” 

In her blog post, Reflections on Mortality and Holy Week, Diana addresses the fact that “death happens everywhere. We are surrounded by it, entangled by it,” yet “we cover it up, tuck it away, move it aside.” 

Yes, the experience of dying and death remains elusive and mysterious and can be scary for all of us, especially for young people, so perhaps we should explore those topics in our memoirs—for the benefit of both ourselves and our readers.

This will stir up some thoughts:

“You, as all God’s children, live one final breath from your own funeral. Which, from God’s perspective, is nothing to grieve. He responds to these grave facts with this great news: ‘The day you die is better than the day you are born’ (Ecclesiastes 7:1). Now there is a twist. Heaven enjoys a maternity-ward reaction to funerals. Angels watch body burials the same way grandparents monitor delivery-room doors. ‘He’ll be coming through any minute!’ They can’t wait to see the new arrival. While we’re driving hearses and wearing black, they’re hanging pink and blue streamers and passing out cigars….” (“When Death Becomes Birth,” from Come Thirsty by Max Lucado)

If you’re not afraid to die, write a vignette explaining why.

What do you think heaven will be like?

“…Someday God will wipe away your tears. The same hands that stretched the heavens will touch your cheeks. The same hands that formed the mountains will caress your face. The same hands that curled in agony as the Roman spike cut through will someday cup your face and brush away your tears. Forever.” (Max Lucado, The Applause of Heaven; also see Revelation 21)

At the end of your time on earth, what will it be like to stand before God face to face, one on one?

The lyrics of I Can Only Imagine (MercyMe) ponder that question.

“I can only imagine what my eyes will see when Your face is before me.…

Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel…?

Will I dance for You…?

Will I stand in Your presence, or to my knees will I fall?

Will I sing hallelujah?

Will I be able to speak at all?

I can only imagine.…”

Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 13:12, “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”

For years I’ve asked myself, “What will it be like, face to face with God, the Almighty, the Creator, knowing Him fully even as He knows me?”

I envision the scene: I am surrounded by His blinding-brilliant glory, and I am speechless.

I imagine I’ll fall on my face, sobbing in worship and wonder and gratitude.

What about you? What do you envision?

What stories can you write to help your readers ponder life and death and God and heaven? What stories will show readers how to live well and, when their time on earth draws to an end, how to die well?

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas?

Did you submit a story for the Advent group-writing project

hosted by The High Calling?

(See my earlier blog post, You’re invited to the Advent group-writing project ...)

Olive Tree submitted her story about Christmases past and present,

including Christmas in Turkey!

You can read it by clicking on this link: Celebrating Life Every Day!

(or http://olivetreeingodshouse.blogspot.com/2011/12/celebrating-life-every-day.html)

Diana Trautwein submitted her Advent story, too, and you'll enjoy reading it.

Just click on Advent: Remembering the Ways of God (or http://drgtjustwondering.blogspot.com/2011/12/advent-remembering-ways-of-god.html)

In October, the annual five-month rainy season ended after dumping 150 inches.

A few weeks later, under 100-degree temperatures, bushes, trees, and untamed jungle lost their leaves.

From sunrise to sunset, hot wind blew across the llanos from Brazil, stirring up spicy fragrances of sun-baked grass.

Immense open stretches simmered.

Muddy paths and tracks turned rock-hard.

And one day in December, 1976, while I walked one of those sun-cracked tracks and that heavenly fireball cooked my skin, the school principal—rotund, fifty-something—puttered up to me on her rust-red motorbike and declared, “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!”

She looked at me for a few seconds and then laughed—I’m sure my face betrayed my thoughts. I bit my tongue to keep from blurting out: This looks like Christmas? You’ve gotta be kidding!

To me, Christmas looks like frost-covered evergreens and frozen puddles. Heavy coats, scarves, mittens, boots. Runny noses. Sledding. Fireplace fires. Ice skating. Skiing.

I learned a lesson that hot, dry December day: “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas” means different things to different people. To the school principal, a sun-bleached landscape and blistering equatorial wind signaled she’d soon celebrate Christmas.

When you hear those familiar old words, “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” what do you picture?

Some of you live in faraway lands—perhaps on the mission field or in the military—and your Christmas looks nothing like scenes North Americans see on Christmas cards or in movies or TV commercials.

At The Gypsy Mama,* Lisa-Jo Baker writes, “… I grew up in a country where Christmas meant hot and sun-burned and the beach. All this even when the shopping malls were still bursting with the strains of, ‘I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.’ And no matter how many years I live away from South Africa, I always miss the hot and the acacia trees and the flaming sunsets.”

What does your Christmas look like?

Morley Callaghan is right: a writer watches.

A writer looks. A write sees.

This holiday season, look around. Notice details you might take for granted after all these years. Take a fresh look and capture those sights for your memoir because a generation or two from now, your memoir’s readers might be amused to learn what your Christmases were like.

Pull out old photos of Christmases past, and those of your parents and grandparents. Examine them. Take in details and find words for them. Write them into your rough drafts. They will add color, texture, and enjoyment for your readers.

Have you written a story about Christmas for your memoir?

If so, send me your vignette

by this coming Saturday—

that’s December 10—

and I’ll select one to publish here

the week before Christmas.

See all the details in my November 12 post at this link:

http://spiritualmemoirs101.blogspot.com/2011/11/send-me-your-christmas-vignettes.html

*Resources and related posts:

The Gypsy Mama, Liso-Jo Baker,

http://thegypsymama.com/