My men’s group is obsessed with a book by Donald Miller. He’s best known for his bestselling memoir, “Blue Like Jazz.” But the book we return to every other year or so is an obscure workbook he self-published in 2012 entitled “Storyline.” In it, Miller uses the elements of Hollywood storytelling to help readers make better sense of their pasts, to recognize and prioritize the roles they inhabit in their lives, and to adopt new aspirations and life goals worth pursuing. (The workbook is out of print now — you’ll have to hunt for it in used bookstores — but the exercise I share at the bottom of this newsletter works in much the same way.)
The core of “Storyline” is an exercise that helps readers recognize the “positive turns” and “negative turns” that their lives have taken over the years, thereby spotlighting their most impactful life events and major life seasons. Smartly, once readers have their various turns in mind, Miller challenges them to try to discern God’s redemptive purposes in the aftermath of each of their negative turns. And that part is always astonishing, for we can see how he’s always, always at work. “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good” (Romans 8:28, ESV). My friends and I have never failed to identify positive things — oftentimes very positive — that have emerged from our low points, even the most painful or most shameful.
Our stories have components. Places and predicaments. Families and friends and failures. Triumphs and transformations. Regrets and redemptions. And these strung-together facts and feelings can, in isolation, appear quite random — and sometimes, downright humiliating. But something happens to our stories when we begin to see them from God’s perspective. And something happens once again when we comprehend how they fit right into what John Eldredge calls the “Larger Story” — the grand, four-act drama authored by God: creation, the fall, redemption, and restoration.
Seen from God’s perspective and in proper context, the wholes (and even the parts) of our stories begin to make much more sense. Like seeing the rough cut become the final version, we gain clarity and discover the beauty of a God who has always been there — always interested, always active, always helpful. From the first frame when he made us fearfully and wonderfully, through our various roles and encounters, into our successes and defeats, our stumbles and overcomings, he’s always been there.
Seen from his perspective and in proper context, we can begin to sense God’s voice of love through the years. We can begin to see how his hand of care has always been upon us. We can begin to appreciate that, because of his love and forgiveness, our most painful and shameful experiences are often our greatest sources of growth. For me, in fact, the negative turns I captured on my first pass through “Storyline” many years ago have started to look much more like positive turns in the fullness of time.
With God, our stories, once dull and sometimes unsightly, become thrilling and quite beautiful. And not only that, our stories also become powerful.
When Scripture describes Satan’s final overflow — the ultimate defeat of evil and death — the apostle John made sure to note what accomplished it. He describes two things. First and most crucial, the saving sacrifice of Jesus on Calvary. But also, remarkably, the collective set of testimonies of Jesus’ followers.
Now have come the salvation and the power
and the kingdom of our God,
and the authority of his Messiah.For the accuser of our brothers and sisters,
who accuses them before our God day and night,
has been hurled down.They triumphed over him
by the blood of the Lamb
and by the word of their testimony (Revelation 12:10-11).
The word “testimony” here is widely understood to mean the open, verbal declaration of personal faith in Jesus and proclamation of what God has done in one’s life, often including personal stories of transformation, deliverance, or miraculous intervention.
So, it’s clear that our stories are powerful. But why? How?
Well, first, reflecting honestly on our stories can heal the wounds we carry. Looking back, we can trace each scar to its origin scene: the betrayals that haunt us, the losses that broke us, the failures that leveled us. And seeing them from the proper distance can change the entire narrative: how the rejection that felt like an ending became the plot twist we needed, how the loss that emptied us made room for something better, how the shame we buried became the backstory for our compassion. Reflection of this sort isn’t just about remembering our pain; it’s about discovering how our darkest moments set the stage for constructive transformation.
Second, when we revisit our stories and view them from God’s angle, it transforms our relationships with him. We can spot him in scenes where we thought we were alone. We can see his provision in what felt like scarcity, his purpose in what seemed like waste. And then the space between us dissolves. We stop performing for a God we think needs impressing. We stop hiding from a God we think needs protecting from our mess. And we find ourselves drawn to him, not out of obligation, but because we finally see that he’s never been shocked by our struggles, never been deterred by our darkness, never been anywhere but right there in the thick of it with us.
Third, telling our unedited stories creates real connection. There’s a difference between knowing someone’s highlight reel and knowing their behind-the-scenes struggles. When we share the full arc — our failures and transformations — others feel permission to drop their own pretenses. And that’s when authentic community becomes possible, communities where people pray for real needs, speak hard truths with love, and show up for each other when it matters.
Fourth, our stories become scripts for others. Someone in the middle of a divorce needs to hear from someone who made it through. Someone fighting addiction needs proof that recovery is real. Our hardest experiences, once we’ve processed and shared them, often become our most valuable gifts we can give one another.
I think this is why Revelation pairs Christ’s sacrifice with believers’ stories as the twin forces that ultimately defeat all evil. Stories aren’t just memories — they’re evidence that transformation happens, inspiring others. When we understand and tell them we’re participating in “making all things new” (Revelation 21:5). Each story of redemption is proof that broken things don’t have to stay broken forever.
Stasi Eldredge wrote “Your Story.”
Stasi Eldredge recorded “Becoming Myself.”
Sample ➼ “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years” by Donald Miller
Sample ➼ “To Be Told” by Dan Allender
We updated Rapt’s ‘Best of’ lists this week. Lots of new stuff!
Amy Duggar King grew up on TLC’s “19 Kids and Counting.” Today, she’s an author encouraging others to get free of dysfunctional families and abuse.
Clarissa Moll is an award-winning author and podcast host whose work appears in Christianity Today, The Gospel Coalition, and RELEVANT Magazine.
Alexandra Hoover is a best-selling author, speaker, and pastor passionate about helping women grow in their relationships with God.
Jay Lowder is an evangelist, author, and speaker who founded Jay Lowder Harvest Ministries in Wichita Falls, Texas.
Heath Hardesty is an author, lead pastor of Valley Community Church, and founder of Inklings Coffee & Tea in Pleasanton, California.
Ava Pennington is an author, speaker, Bible teacher, freelance editor, and certified coach for writers and speakers.
Janet Moreno is a deaf mother of four hearing children and, with her deaf college sweetheart, is the heart behind Sweet SignShine.
Jennifer Fusco is an author and elementary school teacher with over 15 years of experience inspiring young minds.
P.S. Who should we interview next? Click here to let us know. And what new question would you like us to ask them? Click here to submit your suggestion.
“And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you.
—Donald Miller
Want to make better sense of a memory from your past?
Pick a memory that still stings. Write it down the way you’ve always told it — the version where you’re the fool, the failure, the one left behind.
Now try this: Read Romans 8:28 slowly. Then write the same story again, but this time look for what else was happening — and what has happened since. What strength grew in you that wouldn’t exist otherwise? Who appeared when you needed them? What do you know now that you couldn’t have learned any other way? What good thing in your life today simply wouldn’t exist without that hard thing happening first?
The second version you write, that’s the one that’s actually true.
We’re in this together, my friend, and I am very grateful for that.
Editor-in-Chief, Rapt Interviews & Wire for Men
Co-executive Director, Gather Ministries