I love to read. And memoirs are at the top of my list.
My favorites are typically written by a not-so-young woman whose story reads something like this…
Her life was filled with hope-filled dreams. Exciting expectations. Blue skies and sun-filled days. She had energy that made skipping in her summer slip-ons easy-peasy.
Then life happened.
Her skies got cloudy. Disappointment replaced those dreams. Skipping was totally out of the question.
Frankly, some days putting on the slip-ons felt like enough.
The next section of her memoir shares a season filled with “What if’s…?”
What if things don’t change?
What if it doesn’t get better?
What if this is all there is?
And then … of course … the best part.
Something shifts.
Not necessarily around her. Something shifts inside her.
A person. An event. A doctor. A counselor. A word of encouragement. A book. The refreshing presence of Jesus.
Something lights a spark in her weary soul.
She takes a step.
She decides her circumstances will not get to define her entire story. She begins living differently. Not because every problem has disappeared, but because hope has started showing up again.
She decides.
And then she does.
When we read her memoir, we cheer her on through the pages, don’t we?
We laugh with her. Marvel at her courage. Watch her become stronger, wiser, more peaceful.
And somewhere along the way we whisper, I want to do that too.
Of course, memoirs are wonderfully tidy once they’re edited, bound, and sitting on a bookshelf.
Living one in real time?
Not nearly so tidy.
Because when you’re standing in the middle of a difficult chapter, you don’t know yet how the next ten pages are going to read.
And that’s what I was reminded of this morning as I read another memoir…
I am writing my memoir today.
You are writing your memoir today.
Our stories move from blue skies to grey skies to dark skies and sometimes back again throughout the seasons of our life.
We don’t get to choose every plot twist.
We can’t manage every character.
And we certainly can’t guarantee ourselves a perfect ending.
But we can choose how we walk into the next page.
We can notice that flicker of hope and cling to it.
We can pay attention to the goodness God places right in front of us.
We can trust the God who has been present in our story all along, and take the next faithful step with Him.
Maybe that’s how a new chapter begins. Not with a dramatic reinvention of our entire life.
Just one step.
Make amends. Move one small step toward that dream. Call someone. Talk to God. Forgive. Rest. Ask for help.
Sometimes the deeply spiritual thing to do is simply get off our butts and do the thing we already know we need to do. (I know. That might feel a little uncomfortable.)
So where do we begin?
Ask God to show you the next step. Ask Him for renewed strength. Ask Him for courage.
Ask.
Then listen.
Then move.
Not ten chapters ahead.
Just the next step.
Turn the page of your story. Grab a fresh pen.
God isn’t asking you to manage the entire plot or figure out exactly how the story ends.
He’s inviting you to walk with Him into the next page.
Your story matters to God.
And this page matters too.
Decide.
Then do.
“This is what God says, the God who builds a road right through the ocean, who carves a path through pounding waves … ‘Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new. It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it? There it is! I’m making a road through the desert, rivers in the badlands.’”
Isaiah 43:16, 18-19 (MSG)
