Your brokenness can be the stuff of turning points and second chances for others

 

Devastating situations can knock the air out of us. Bring us to our knees.

 

Sometimes we cause our own tragedies, other times we’re innocent victims of someone else’s choices and actions. And often heartbreaks are part of life for everyone—like the death of a loved one.

 

Sometimes we are so broken, so helpless, we can’t do anything but fling ourselves into God’s arms and hold on.

 

And later—often much later—

we discover that within that place of crisis,

we learn our most important lessons—

 

• Sorrows can wrench us out of places we should never have wandered.
• Anguish can break down our stubbornness and make us willing, finally, to embrace a holy discontent with things that are not right in our lives.
• A crisis can force us to get serious about God and His forgiveness and grace—and about our need to forgive and extend grace to others.
• Devastation can shake us by the shoulders and convince us that God is worthy of all we are and all we have—that He is Number One.

 

In that way, our brokenness

can lead to our wholeness:

Heartbreaks can be the stuff of turning points

and second chances.

Personal disasters can lead to personal victories.

 

Some of you have been there. You messed up. Or maybe someone else messed up and left you devastated. Shattered. But you survived. Your broken self healed—by God’s grace. You’re living in a new chapter of your life.

 

• God has given you a new song to sing. (Psalm 40:1-3).
• He has given you beauty in place of ashes, gladness in place of mourning (Isaiah 61:3).
• He has restored places long devastated (Isaiah 61:4).
• He has turned your weeping into songs of joy (Psalm 126:5-6).

 

Write your story!

Someone needs to hear

that you got through your disaster.

 

Someone needs to know

that you are living a new and better life.

 

Not just that you got a new life—

but how you got there.

How did you and God, together,

get you to this new place?

 

Someone, sometime, will read your memoir—someone searching for answers, someone reeling in the midst of his or her own anguish, longing to turn a corner, desperate to receive a second chance, eager to leave the former life behind and make a fresh start. God can use your story to help answer their prayers, give them hope, and someone (you, through your memoir) to walk alongside them toward the other side.

 

In that way, you—just an ordinary person—can be a “messenger of the Most High.”

 

Take in the following:

 

“And so we understand that ordinary people are messengers of the Most High,” writes Lawrence Kushner. “They go about their tasks in holy anonymity. Often, even unknown to themselves. Yet, if they had not been there, if they had not said what they said or did what they did, it would not be the way it is now. We would not be the way we are now. Never forget that you, too, may be a messenger. Perhaps even one whose errand extends over several lifetimes.” (Eyes Remade for Wonder, Lawrence Kushner)

 

Read those last two sentences again with your memoir in mind:

 

“Never forget that you, too,

may be a messenger.

Perhaps even one whose errand

extends over several lifetimes.”

 

How can your stories extend over several lifetimes? By putting them in writing, making copies, and making sure your family knows they have copies—on a shelf somewhere, or in a box in the basement. They might not read your memoir in your lifetime, but someday, someone will read it.

 

Trust God—

He has given you a high calling.

 

Your stories matter.

 

Not so much because of who you are,

but because of who God is.

 

Commit your stories to Him,

believing He will use them to bless your readers.

 

“Your struggle to share your struggle changes the world.”

Mick Silva, Higher Purpose Writers

 

“Look where you have not had the heart to look before”

“Every once in a while, life can be very eloquent.

You go along from day to day

not noticing very much,

not seeing or hearing very much,

and then all of a sudden, something speaks to you

with such power

that it catches you off guard,

makes you listen whether you want to or not.

Something speaks to you out of your own life

with such directness

that it is as if it calls you by name and forces you to look

where you have not had the heart to look before,

to hear something that maybe for years

you have not had the wit or the courage to hear.”

(Frederick Buechner, Secrets in the Dark; emphasis mine)

Writing your memoir can be like that: Within the reflecting and pondering and excavating and decoding, something pops up, something  breaks you right open and “forces you to look where you have not had the heart to look before.”

You can no longer ignore it, hoping it will disappear. You know in your heart of hearts that you can’t turn away.

You’ve arrived at a defining moment.

If, in writing your memoir, you unexpectedly “hear something that maybe for years you have not had the wit or the courage to hear,” recognize that God is doing something profound.

Set aside time and make a serious effort to listen for God’s still small voice. Be willing to search your soul. God can help you make sense of what you're hearing and make peace with it.

Initially, you might not welcome that process, but it can be good and valuable—if you give God your undivided attention for as long as it takes.

By breaking you open, God can help you break through to a higher, wider, deeper place of faith and joy in Him.

God can open your eyes to see events and relationships in new ways. He can give you a more accurate understanding of His love for you: You are beloved and secure in Him (Deuteronomy 33:12), He takes great delight in you, quiets you in His love, and rejoices over you with singing (Zephaniah 3:17).

Getting there can be a long and painful process, but if you stick with God and search the Bible and listen and pray, He can shine light on your darkness. He can give you a new song to sing.

Take in these words of dear David, the psalmist:

I waited patiently for the Lord to help me,

and He turned to me and heard my cry.

He lifted me out of the pit of despair,

out of the mud and the mire.

He set my feet on solid ground

and steadied me as I walked along.

He has given me a new song to sing,

a hymn of praise to our God. 

(Psalm 40:1-2, NLT)

When that happens—when God brings you to that good, new place—resume writing. Consider your memoir your new song of praise.

“It is through memory that we are able to reclaim much of our lives that we have long since written off by finding that in everything that has happened to us over the years, God was offering us possibilities of new life and healing, which, though we may have missed them at the time, we can . . . be brought to life by and healed by all these years later.” (Frederick Buechner, Telling Secrets; emphasis mine)

So, marvel at God’s goodness. Cherish His grace.

Use your memoir to:

Sing a new song to the Lord! . . .

Publish His glorious deeds. . . .

Tell everyone about the amazing things He does.

(Psalm 96:1-3, NLT)

“Look where you have not had the heart to look before”

“Every once in a while, life can be very eloquent. 

You go along from day to day

not noticing very much,

not seeing or hearing very much,

and then all of a sudden, when you least expect it,

very often something speaks to you 

with such power

that it catches you off guard,

makes you listen whether you want to or not.

Something speaks to you out of your own life

with such directness

that it is as if it calls you by name and forces you to look

where you have not had the heart to look before,

to hear something that maybe for years

you have not had the wit or the courage to hear.”

(Frederick Buechner, Secrets in the Dark, 

emphasis mine)

Writing your memoir can be like that: Within the reflecting and pondering and exploring and decoding, something pops up, something breaks you right open and “forces you to look where you have not had the heart to look before.” You can no longer ignore it, hoping it will disappear. You know in your heart of hearts that you can’t turn away. You’ve arrived at a defining moment.

If, in writing your memoir, you unexpectedly "hear something that maybe for years you have not had the wit or the courage to hear," recognize that God is doing something profound.

Set aside time and make a serious effort to listen for God’s still small voice. Be willing to do some soul-searching. God can help you make sense of it and make peace with it. He can give you a new outlook on life, new purpose, new opportunities.

Initially you might not welcome that process, but it can be good and valuable—if you give God your undivided attention for as long as it takes. 

By breaking you open, God can help you break through to a higher, wider, deeper place of faith and joy in Him.

God can open your eyes to see events and relationships in new ways. He can give you a more accurate understanding of His love for you: You are beloved and secure in Him (Deuteronomy 33:12), He takes great delight in you, quiets you in His love, and rejoices over you with singing (Zephaniah 3:17) .

Getting there can be a long and painful process, but if you stick with God and search Scriptures and listen and pray, He can shine light on your darkness, He can give you a new song to sing.

Listen to the words of dear David, the psalmist:

I waited patiently for the Lord to help me,

            and he turned to me and heard my cry.

He lifted me out of the pit of despair,

            out of the mud and the mire.

He set my feet on solid ground

            and steadied me as I walked along.

He has given me a new song to sing,

            a hymn of praise to our God. 
(Psalm 40:1-3, NLT)

When that happens—when God brings you to that good, new place—write the rest of your memoir. Consider it—your memoir—your new song of praise.

“It is through memory that we are able to reclaim much of our lives that we have long since written off by finding that in everything that has happened to us over the years God was offering us possibilities of new life and healing, which, though we may have missed them at the time, we can … be brought to life by and healed by all these years later.” (Frederick Buechner, Telling Secrets, emphasis mine.)

So, marvel at God’s goodness. Cherish His grace.

Use your memoir to:

Sing a new song to the Lord!...

Publish his glorious deeds….

Tell everyone about the amazing things he does.

(Psalm 96:1-3, NLT)

The stuff of turning points and second chances

Devastating situations can knock the air out of us. Bring us to our knees.

Sometimes we cause our own tragedies, other times we’re innocent victims of someone else’s choices and actions. And sometimes heartbreaks are part of life—like the death of a loved one.

Sometimes we are so broken, so helpless, we can’t do anything but fling ourselves into God’s arms and hold on.

And there, within that place of crisis, we discover that during our most painful times we learn our most important lessons. 

Sorrows can wrench us out of places we should never have wandered: Anguish can break down our stubbornness and make us willing, finally, to embrace a holy discontent with things that are not right in our lives.

A crisis can force us to get serious about God and His forgiveness and grace—and about our need to forgive and extend grace to others.

Devastation can shake us by the shoulders and convince us that God is worthy of all we are and all we have—that He is Number One.

In that way, our brokenness can lead to our wholeness: Heartbreaks can be the stuff of turning points and second chances. Personal disasters can lead to personal victories.

Some of you have been there. You messed up. Or maybe someone else messed up and left you devastated. Shattered. But you survived. Your  broken self healed—by God’s grace. You’re living in a new chapter of your life.

God has given you a new song to sing (Psalm 40:1-3).

He has given you beauty in place of ashes, gladness in place of mourning (Isaiah 61:3).

He has restored places long devastated (Isaiah 61:4).

He has turned your weeping into songs of joy (Psalm 126:5-6).

You need to write your story because

someone needs to hear that you got through your disaster.

Someone needs to know that you are living a new and better life.

Not just that you got a new life—but how you got there.

How did you and God, together, get you to this new place?

Someone, sometime, will read your memoir—someone searching for answers, someone reeling in the midst of his or her own anguish, longing to turn a corner, desperate to receive a second chance, eager to leave the former life behind and make a fresh start. God can use your story to help answer their prayers, give them hope, and someone (you, through your memoir) to walk alongside them toward the other side.

In that way, you—just an ordinary person—can be a “messenger of the Most High.”

“And so we understand that ordinary people are messengers of the Most High,” writes Lawrence Kushner. “They go about their tasks in holy anonymity. Often, even unknown to themselves. Yet, if they had not been there, if they had not said what they said or did what they did, it would not be the way it is now. We would not be the way we are now. Never forget that you, too, may be a messenger. Perhaps even one whose errand extends over several lifetimes.” (Lawrence Kushner, Eyes Remade for Wonder, emphasis mine)

Read those last two sentences again with your memoir in mind: “Never forget that you, too, may be a messenger. Perhaps even one whose errand extends over several lifetimes.”

How can your stories extend over several lifetimes? By putting them in writing, making copies, and making sure your family knows they have copies—on a shelf somewhere, or in a box in the basement. They might not read your memoir in your lifetime, but someday, someone will read it.

Trust God—

He has given you a high calling.

Your stories matter.

Not so much because of who you are,

but because of who God is.

Commit your stories to Him,

believing He will use them to bless your readers.

“Your struggle to share your struggle changes the world.”

Mick Silva, Higher Purpose Writers

From settling old scores to singing new songs

“The memoir-crazed 1990s.” Do you remember that era?

William Zinsser (one of my favorite writing mentors) reminds us that, “Until that decade memoir writers drew a veil over their most shameful experiences and thoughts; certain civilities were still agreed on by society. Then talk shows came into their own and shame went out the window.”

It was an era, he says, when “no remembered episode was too squalid, no family too dysfunctional, to be trotted out for the titillation of the masses.”

Memoirists, like talk shows, disclosed shocking information, indulged in self-pity, and sought revenge from those who wronged them.

“Writing was out and whining was in,” says Zinsser.

But, he points out, those types of memoirs didn’t stand the test of time.

“The memoirs we do remember from the 1990s are … Mary Karr’s The Liar’s Club, Frank McCourt’s Angela’s Ashes, Tobias Wolff’s This Boy’s Life, and Pete Hamill’s A Drinking Life.” (from “How To Write A Memoir” in The American Scholar; emphasis  mine)  

 “If these books by McCourt, Hamill, Karr, and Wolff represent the new memoir at its best, it’s because they were written with love. They elevate the pain of the past with forgiveness, arriving at a larger truth about families in various stages of brokenness. There’s no self-pity, no whining, no hunger for revenge…We are not victims, they want us to know.” (Zinsser’s Inventing the Truth; emphasis mine)

Their stories’ message: “We come from a tribe of fallible people and we have survived without resentment to get on with our lives.”

He counsels memoirists: “Don’t use your memoir to air old grievances and to settle old scores; get rid of that anger somewhere else.” (from “How To Write A Memoir” in The American Scholar; emphasis mine) 

That somewhere else could be a journal or a fictionalized version of the story. Or it could be in a first draft. Dr. Linda Joy Myers says, "Write your first draft as a healing draft. Get out what you need to say. Make it bold and real. Then stand back and think about how you want to revise it for publication." (from Will My Family Get Angry About My Memoir?; emphasis mine)

The important thing is to vent, to deal with the problem, to find healing and forgiveness and closure. Just don’t seek revenge in memoir.

There’s another reason to avoid seeking revenge in memoirs. Cecil Murphey and Twila Belk said well it on Facebook a few days ago: “Whenever I condemn others, I am condemning myself. Whenever I judge others, I give God permission to judge me.”

Jesus said it this way, “Do not judge others, and you will not be judged.  For you will be treated as you treat others. The standard you use in judging is the standard by which you will be judged. And why worry about the speck in your friend’s eye when you have a log in your own?… Hypocrite! First get rid of the log in your own eye.…” (Matthew 7:1-5, NLT)

I suspect that’s what Thomas à Kempis had in mind when he wrote, “We are too quick to resent and feel what we suffer from others, but fail to consider how much others suffer from us. Whoever considers his own defects fully and honestly will find no reason to judge others harshly.”

Yep, nobody’s perfect. Each of us has failures and shortcomings.

So, have we asked God’s forgiveness? And then have we forgiven ourselves? (Read more at How do you deal with this elephant in the room?)

In writing our memoirs, let’s extend to others the same forgiveness, grace, and mercy God has extended to us. (Read more at How do you write about your family’s baggage?)   

Zinsser, with grace, encourages us to strive for the best goal: to do all we need to do to “elevate the pain of the past with forgiveness.”

And isn’t that what “singing a new song” is all about? (Psalm 40:1-3, Psalm 96:1, Psalm 149:1, Isaiah 42:10)

And why should we sing a new song? Because God says, “I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more.” (Isaiah 43:25)

And He says, “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” (Isaiah 43:18-19)

How can we not sing a new song in praise of the new things God has done in and for us? How can we not sing a new song after God has turned our harsh wilderness into a lush place?

Yes, sing a new song!

And isn’t that one of the most important elements of memoir? Memoir is about the old you and the new you, and how you got there, and what you learned along the way.

“The main character … —in a memoir it’s you!—is changed significantly by events, actions, decisions, and epiphanies,” writes Dr. Linda Joy Myers. “The growth and change of the main character is imperative in any story, and is the primary reason a memoir is written—to show the arc of character change from beginning to end.”

So, write about the old you, write about the new you, write about how you got there, and what you learned. 

Sing a new song. 

“Elevate the pain of the past with forgiveness.”

Related posts:

“Remembering only the pain, or only the joy, would be incomplete”

Does forgiving leave room for forgetting AND remembering?

Your memoir: sharing about sin and God’s forgiveness

The Four R’s of Memoir Writing, by Mary Gottschalk