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
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.
