“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)

Recognize that your readers might fear God’s grace is out of reach

Your readers need to know your stories about forgiveness because they might think they’re beyond God’s grace—at least one of them, maybe several of them.

I haven’t researched the topic but I suspect every memoir involves some aspect of forgiveness:

Our need to forgive others

Our need to ask forgiveness from others

Our need to ask God’s forgiveness

Our need to accept and embrace God’s forgiveness

Our need to forgive ourselves

If I’m right—if every memoir involves some aspect of forgiveness—do we treat forgiveness like the elephant in the room?

In one way or another, forgiveness surrounds our everyday lives, from birth to death, but do we shy away from taking a serious look at it?

It looms, maybe in the corner of the room, but are we uncomfortable discussing it?

As a memoirist, how are you addressing the topic of forgiveness?

Last week I challenged you with this:

Your readers—

your kids, grandkids, great-grandkids,

generations yet unborn—

will struggle with their own failures

and weaknesses

and temptations

and sins.

God can use your life’s stories

to help them turn to Him

for forgiveness and restoration.

Twice this month we’ve looked at a couple components of forgiveness. Today, let’s continue:

We need to accept and embrace God’s forgiveness, and we need to forgive ourselves:

After we’ve confessed and asked God’s forgiveness for our sins against Him and others, after we’ve radically, deliberately, sincerely turned our lives around, too often we continue to beat ourselves up over our failures. Too often we still consider ourselves soiled, ruined, disgraced. We feel doomed to live with shame the rest of our lives.

If that’s where you are today, I encourage you to ban the following judgment of yourself:

Instead, ask God to help you embrace the following:

Rest in the assurance that God’s forgiveness is complete, perfect, lacking nothing.

Believe God’s promise to forgive (1 John 1:9, Proverbs 28:13, Psalm 103:12).  

LIVE like you are forgiven (Psalm 32:5).

Relax in God’s love, mercy, and grace (Zephaniah 3:17).

Delight yourself in the joy of the Lord (2 Samuel 22:20, Psalm 16:16, Psalm 35:9, Isaiah 61:10, Nehemiah 8:10, Psalm 92:4).

Your stories are important—people need to know your stories of giving and receiving forgiveness—but spelling out every last detail might not be appropriate.

How much do you share with your readers—your children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren?

“How open and honest do we need to be?

Do we have to tell our readers everything?

No!”

(Marlene Bagnull)

In Write His Answer: A Bible Study for Christian Writers, Marlene Bagnull points out that Paul, in the New Testament, must have had deep regrets over his persecution of Christians, yet he didn’t dodge it, he didn’t treat it like the elephant in the room.

Instead, spoke of his sinful life (Acts 22). He didn’t tell all the gory details of how he persecuted people, but he told the most important information: the Lord confronted him and called him to repent so he could tell others about God’s grace and forgiveness. Paul wrote, “Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy….The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly…” (1 Timothy 1:13-16; see also Romans 8:2).  

Paul didn’t record what, specifically, was the thorn in his flesh (2 Corinthians 12:7-8).

He wrote that he kept doing things he didn’t want to do, but didn’t name them (Romans 7:15).  

But Paul always pointed his listeners and readers to God’s grace.

And he did so even though he knew he still was not perfect. “I am still not all I should be,” he admitted (Philippians 3:13).

You see, it wasn’t because Paul was so great. No, it was because God was and still is so great!

Like Paul, you and I are far from perfect, and, like Paul, we don’t need to tell all our gory details. But with humility, if God so leads, we can share transparently some of our failures in tactful ways so that we, like Paul, can tell how God saved us and changed us—by His staggering grace and mercy.

Your stories and mine are important because those who read them might think they’re beyond God’s grace. Our stories might inspire them to accept God’s forgiveness for themselves.

“Out of his awareness of his own sinful nature,

Paul was able to point others to

‘the power of the life-giving Spirit’ (Romans 8:2).

We can do the same.”

Marlene Bagnull, Write His Answer

With God’s help, we must write stories that point readers to God's grace. We can write stories to bless entire families and generations—not because you and I are so great, but because God is so great!

As a memoirist, how do you deal with this elephant in the room?

I have done no research, but I suspect every memoir involves some aspect of forgiveness:

Our need to forgive

Our need to ask forgiveness from others

Our need to ask God’s forgiveness

Our need to accept and embrace God’s forgiveness

Our need to forgive ourselves

If I’m right—if every memoir involves some aspect of forgiveness—do we treat it like the elephant in the room?

In one way or another, forgiveness surrounds our everyday lives, from birth to death, but do we shy away from taking a serious look at it?

It looms, maybe in the corner of the room, but are we uncomfortable discussing it?

As a memoirist, how are you addressing the topic of forgiveness?

Last week I challenged you with this:

Your readers—

your kids, grandkids, great-grandkids,

generations yet unborn—

will struggle with their own failures

and weaknesses

and temptations

and sins.

God can use your life’s stories

to help them turn to Him

for forgiveness and restoration.

Twice this month (Thanksgiving month—no coincidence!) we’ve examined a couple components of forgiveness (click on links above). Today, let’s continue:

We need to accept and embrace God’s forgiveness, and we need to forgive ourselves:

After we’ve confessed and asked God’s forgiveness for our willful rebellion against Him and others, after we’ve sincerely turned our lives around, too often we continue to beat ourselves up over our failures and stains. We still consider ourselves soiled, ruined, disgraced. We feel doomed to live with shame the rest of our lives.

If that’s where you are today, I encourage you to ban the following judgment of yourself:

Instead, ask God to help you embrace the following:

Rest in the assurance that God’s forgiveness is complete, perfect, lacking nothing.

Believe God’s promise to forgive (1 John 1:9, Proverbs 28:13, Psalm 103:12).   

LIVE like you are forgiven (Psalm 32:5).

Relax in God’s love, mercy, and grace (Zephaniah 3:17).

Delight yourself in the joy of the Lord (2 Samuel 22:20, Psalm 16:16, Psalm 35:9, Isaiah 61:10, Nehemiah 8:10, Psalm 92:4).

Your stories are important. People need to know your stories of giving and receiving forgiveness—but spelling out every last detail might not be appropriate.

How much do you share with your readers—your children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren?

“How open and honest do we need to be?

Do we have to tell our readers everything?

No!”

(Marlene Bagnull)

In Write His Answer: A Bible Study for Christian Writers, Marlene Bagnull points out that Paul, in the New Testament, must have had deep regrets over his persecution of Christians, yet he didn’t dodge it, he didn’t treat it like the elephant in the room.

Instead, spoke of his sinful life (Acts 22). He didn’t tell all the gory details of how he persecuted people, but he told the most important information: the Lord confronted him and called him to repent so he could tell others about God’s grace and forgiveness. Paul wrote, “Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy….The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly…” (1 Timothy 1:13-16; see also Romans 8:2).  

Paul didn’t record what, specifically, was the thorn in his flesh (2 Corinthians 12:7-8).

He wrote that he kept doing things he didn’t want to do, but didn’t name them (Romans 7:15).  

But Paul always pointed his listeners and readers to God’s grace.

And he did so even though he knew he still was not perfect. “I am still not all I should be,” he admitted (Philippians 3:13).

You see, it wasn’t because Paul was so great. No, it was because God was and still is so great!

Like Paul, you and I are far from perfect, and, like Paul, we don’t need to tell all our gory details. But with humility, if God so leads, we can share transparently some of our failures in tactful ways so that we, like Paul, can tell how God saved us and changed us—by His staggering grace and mercy.

Your stories and mine are important because those who read them might think they’re beyond God’s grace. Our stories might give them the encouragement they need to accept God’s forgiveness for themselves.

“Out of his awareness of his own sinful nature,

Paul was able to point others to

‘the power of the life-giving Spirit’ (Romans 8:2).

We can do the same.”

Marlene Bagnull, Write His Answer

With God’s help, we can write stories to bless entire families and generations—not  because you and I are so great, but because God is so great!

Some of us have tangled family trees

Some of us have flourishing family trees—stately and graceful.

Some of us, however, have messy family trees—tangled and awkward.

Take a closer look at the hodgepodge in this tree:  

Does your family tree look like that?

Some family trees look beautiful, others look messy, but I suspect that even the lovely tree in the top picture has jumbles and twists—we just can’t see them as easily. They’re hiding among the leaves.

I think of one set of grandparents and the ungraceful shape their marriage gives my family tree: Grandpa married his uncle’s granddaughter. Try charting a traditional family tree with that!

Remarriage (due to death or divorce) adds interesting twirls and turns to family trees, as do “his, hers, and theirs” children.

I think of the lives those branches represent—personalities, talents, the places they’ve lived, the journeys they’ve taken.

I think of the merging of surnames, of my great-grandparents: the Helmer from Germany who married the MacDiarmid from Scotland.

I think of the uniting of skin colors, and the cultures they represent.

Of the blending of religions and traditions.

Of pranks and antics, of laughter and tears those branches represent.

I think of defining moments, of abrupt changes in direction, and of new beginnings.

 

Of the birth—and death—of dreams.

Of choices—both foolish and wise—and of successes and failures those branches represent.

No matter how well hidden in the leaves, all family trees have kinks and wrinkles—and that’s where God’s sovereignty and grace and mercy make all the difference.

In recent months, I’ve been thinking about children born out of wedlock—through no fault of their own—and the heartaches many of them carry.

I have a hunch that we’d have to search hard to find a family tree without a child born out of wedlock, but we should not consider those children “illegitimate.” They are not illegitimate—not in God’s sight!

You [God] made my whole being.

You formed me in my mother’s body.

I praise you because you made me

in an amazing and wonderful way.

What you have done is wonderful.

I know this very well.

You saw my bones being formed

as I took shape in my mother’s body.

When I was put together there,

you saw my body as it was formed.

All the days planned for me

were written in your book

before I was one day old.

God your thoughts are precious to me.

(Psalm 139:13-17, New Century Version; emphasis mine)

Soak up Marilyn Meberg's message here: 

 
We want and need to know who we are. 

Of course, for the believer, there need not be a puzzle.
 
Specific attention, thought, and planning about me took place before God actually formed me in the womb.
 
That implies I am much more than a cozy encounter between my parents nine months before I was born. No matter the circumstances surrounding my conception, I am a planned event.
 
Not only am I a planned event, I was 'set apart.' I have a specific task to do for God.
 
We all have a specific task to do for God, and it was planned in his head before we were ever formed in the womb.
 
That is an incredible truth! Not only is my identity and calling known, but also Isaiah 43:1 says, “I have called you by name; you are Mine!” (NAS) He considers me unique and set apart, and he calls me his own.
 
May we sink into that cushion of joyful peace and never forget “whose we be." (Marilyn Meberg, Joy for a Woman's Soul; emphasis mine)

While you compile stories for your memoir, consider this: Someone—at least one of your readers—needs to know that, even if unplanned by human parents, God formed him or her “in an amazing and wonderful way” —

… and not only that, God formed him or her for His unique and good purposes.

What stories can you share with those beloved readers—maybe even for future generations yet unborn? Give specific examples. Include Bible verses. Help them find their beauty in God’s sight. Help them find their identity, their purpose in God, their raison d’être: their reason for being.

Write stories that will assure them God delights in them, He quiets them with his love, and He rejoices over them with singing (Zephaniah 3:17).