Writing from the Wreckage

I never planned to write a memoir.

In fact, when my family was torn apart by an unthinkable tragedy—the death of one child and the near loss of another—I wasn’t thinking about writing at all. I was thinking about breathing. About surviving. About how to live when nothing feels livable anymore.

And yet, it was there—right in the wreckage—that God began whispering, “Tell the story.” Not all of it. Not yet. But enough to begin tracing His fingerprints across the shattered pieces.

If you’re a Christian writer with a painful past, you may wonder if your story is too much. Too raw. Too messy to be meaningful. But here’s the truth: what the enemy meant to destroy you with, may become the very thing God uses to deliver someone else.

In this post, I want to offer you what I wish I’d had in the beginning: a guide to writing memoir not as therapy, but as testimony. Memoir that honors God, invites others into healing, and holds nothing back—except for the spotlight, which belongs to Him.

Why Memoir Is a Ministry for the Christian Writer

Many Christian writers hesitate to tell their story because it feels too personal—or too painful. They worry they’ll seem self-focused or overly emotional. But Christian memoir, when rooted in humility and truth, isn’t self-centered. It’s God-centered testimony.

Memoir, at its core, is a modern-day Ebenezer: a stone of remembrance that says, “Here is where God met me. Here is how He brought me through.”

The Bible is filled with examples of this kind of sacred storytelling:
– David’s psalms offer honest, raw, and poetic reflections from the valleys of grief, betrayal, and fear—yet they always lead back to God’s faithfulness.
– Paul’s letters include his past failures, imprisonments, and pain—not to glorify his struggle, but to magnify grace.
– Even Job’s story, one of deep suffering, is preserved not for shock value but for generations of readers who ask, “Where is God when life falls apart?”

When we write memoir through the lens of faith, we’re doing more than telling our story. We’re inviting others to see the God who met us in it. We’re offering our lives as living proof that Jesus still heals, still redeems, and still restores.

Memoir becomes ministry when we stop writing to be heard and start writing to bear witness.

[Related CIPA Blog: How to Tell Your Story Without Oversharing](https://christianpublishers.net/blog/how-to-tell-your-story-without-oversharing/)

Discernment – What to Include and What to Leave Out

When you’re writing from a place of deep personal loss or trauma, it can be tempting to pour everything onto the page. After all, you lived it. You survived it. And if you’re anything like me, there’s a part of you that wants the world to know the full weight of what happened.

But memoir is not a journal.

It’s not about recording everything—it’s about revealing what matters most.

I remember the moment I first tried to write about the crash—the one that took Jacob and nearly took Caleb too. My hands hovered over the keyboard, and I froze. Not because I didn’t remember, but because I remembered too much. The sounds. The sirens. The things no parent should ever see. I wrote it all down—and then deleted most of it. Not because it wasn’t true, but because it wasn’t ready.

The hardest part of writing GodPrints wasn’t finding the words. It was choosing which words to leave out. Not to protect myself, but to serve the reader. My goal wasn’t to relive the trauma. It was to invite others to see God in the aftermath.

If you’re wrestling with what to include, ask yourself these discerning questions:
– Is this redemptive—or just raw?
– Am I writing to heal, or to wound?
– Would I want my pastor—or my child—to read this?

Discernment isn’t about silencing your story. It’s about listening for the heartbeat of your message and trimming away everything that distracts from it.

What we choose to leave out says just as much as what we leave in.

Authenticity Without Oversharing

One of the most common questions I hear from Christian authors writing memoir is this: “How do I stay real without going too far?”

It’s a wise question. Authenticity is essential. Readers don’t want a polished-highlight reel—they want truth. They want to know you’ve wrestled, doubted, wept, and still found God faithful. But authenticity doesn’t mean putting everything on display. There’s a difference between being transparent and being exposed.

When I was drafting early chapters of GodPrints, I included a moment when I screamed at God in the car—ugly-crying, shouting questions I never thought I’d admit out loud. I left it in. Not because I was proud of that moment, but because it was honest—and because it became a turning point in my faith.

But there were other things I chose not to include. Private words between my husband and me in the rawest hours. Graphic medical details. The sounds of my son’s final moments. Not because I was hiding the truth, but because I wasn’t called to transfer trauma—I was called to testify to hope.

Here’s how I’ve come to think about it:
– Tell the truth, not the details.
– Be evocative, not explicit.
– Invite readers into the pain, but don’t drag them through the wreckage.

Authenticity means you’re not writing to impress or to defend yourself. You’re writing as someone who has been refined by fire—and is now willing to walk with someone else through their ashes.

Writing with a Reader in Mind (and a Redeemer in View)

Memoir is an offering. And when you write through the lens of faith, that offering is twofold: it’s for the reader—and it’s for the Redeemer.

It’s tempting, especially when writing about grief or trauma, to focus inward. To let the story spiral around your own pain or search for justice or need to be understood. But Christian memoir invites a different kind of posture. Not “Look what happened to me,” but “Look what God has done in me.”

That shift—from spotlight to surrender—changes everything.

As you write, keep asking:
– What does my reader need from this page?
– Where is God’s thread visible in this scene?
– Is this paragraph pointing to healing, or just venting?

Sometimes, you’re writing to the person who’s been through what you’ve survived. Sometimes, you’re writing to someone still in the middle of it. Either way, your words can become a lifeline. Not because you’re the hero—but because you’re pointing to the One who is.

When I imagined the readers of GodPrints, I saw tired faces. Grieving parents. People showing up to church while quietly falling apart. I didn’t want to impress them. I wanted to sit beside them. And I wanted every story I shared—whether tender or terrible—to quietly whisper: You’re not alone. He’s still here.

So write with empathy. Write with clarity. And above all, write with the Redeemer in view.

You’re not just telling your story. You’re offering someone else a reason to keep walking.

Indie Publishing Gives You the Freedom to Tell It Truthfully

Not every story fits neatly into the traditional publishing mold—especially when it comes to Christian memoir.

Publishing gatekeepers sometimes shy away from hard stories. They want resolved endings. Clean categories. Proof that your platform is big enough to offset the emotional risk. And sometimes, that means voices like yours—raw, faith-filled, still in process—get filtered out.

But indie publishing changes that.

When I published GodPrints, I didn’t do it because I couldn’t get a traditional deal. I did it because I knew the message God had given me didn’t need to be polished for the marketplace. It needed to be faithful to the ministry He had entrusted to me.
I wanted control over the tone, the depth, the theology—even the silence on certain pages. Indie publishing gave me that freedom.

Here’s what indie authors have that traditionally published authors often don’t:
– Creative control over voice, structure, and content
– Spiritual authority to say what God really put on your heart—not what sells
– Ownership of timeline, allowing you to release your story when it’s ready—not when the market is.

That freedom, of course, comes with responsibility. Indie publishing doesn’t mean isolation. Seek out godly beta readers, editors who understand Christian nuance, and peer writers who will pray with you and challenge you to write with both grace and truth.

Your story doesn’t have to be “market-perfect” to be ministry-worthy.

It just needs to be honest, anointed, and obedient to the call.

Final Encouragement – Write from the Wreckage, But Don’t Stay There

Writing from pain is sacred—but it’s also dangerous ground.

You’re opening old wounds. Revisiting dark moments. Exposing your soul to the light. And while that can be part of the healing process, it can also leave you feeling raw, uncertain, or even retraumatized.

So let me offer this encouragement:
Write from the wreckage, but don’t stay there.

Your story matters. But it’s not meant to be your permanent home. It’s a testimony—not a tomb.

Let your writing journey become part of your healing, not your identity. Your calling is not to relive your worst day again and again—it’s to invite others into the redemption you’ve found on the other side.

When I finished writing GodPrints, I realized I hadn’t just written a book—I had walked with God through memories I once avoided. And in doing so, I discovered something extraordinary:
Even ashes remember the fire.
Even in sorrow, there was glory. Even in silence, there was a whisper of presence.

So if God is calling you to write your story, don’t wait for the pain to disappear. Let Him meet you in it. Let Him shape the words. And trust that what feels like brokenness in your hands may become hope in someone else’s.

“They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony…” — Revelation 12:11

Jenny Leavitt is an award-winning Christian author, grief counselor, and indie publishing advocate. Through her memoir GodPrints and her faith-based grief recovery courses, she helps others turn personal pain into powerful ministry. Learn more at www.JennyLeavitt.com  and www.ResilientHope.net.