A Marriage Story About the Power of Words and Choosing to Believe the Best

 By Kimberly Dawn Rempel (an excerpt from What's the Truth About Who I Am?)


I think marriages come pre-packaged with at least one zombie – that one pesky disagreement or sore spot that keeps reappearing no matter how many times you’ve talked that thing to death. 

You know what I’m talking about. 

For us, one such issue was my feeling unloved and needing reassurance on that old familiar question too many men think too many women ask: “Why do you love me?” “What is it about me that you love?” You know, that one.

The problem wasn’t my husband’s lack of articulation or a lack of love. He does love me. The problem was largely that, because of where I’d come from, I was wholly uncertain of my footing in any relationship, and needed to constantly feel for the foundation, confirming it was in fact still there, and that I was, in fact, not about to fall off of it.

So, wanting not to continue torturing him with this difficult question, yet knowing I needed that constant check-in, I asked him to write me a letter.

“Just write down a list of things you love about me,” I suggested one day, “I need to know. And then, when I feel like I need to ask again, I can just go back to the letter.” It would help us both.

He agreed to write the letter. It was painful for him to do, but he did it. He etched out a numbered list (I think coinciding with my age), which I then logged as evidence and claimed as truth.

In the years afterward, whenever I’d feel insecurity creeping up the back of my neck again, and the fear of rejection would rake its icy claws across my heart, I would not go to him for reassurance. I would first sit alone with the letter, read it, and remember that his love is real. I would consciously decide to believe it and it would help me rediscover the foundation was, in fact, still there and not crumbling. This allowed me to choose once again to believe it.

Then, reassured, I could sit beside him on the couch, watch a show together, and instead of secretly wondering if he still loved me, could focus and enjoy the show because it was safe to do so. I was loved and I believed it, which gave me the freedom to just be.

That was also years ago, and I still have that letter. It’s a precious possession to us both.

>> I feel a side note is appropriate here: I’m not advocating denial or saying the power of positive thinking is what helps a person feel better in an unhealthy relationship. I hope the reader understands I don’t mean this rehearsing of positive words is a helpful tool in a damaged, unhealthy relationship. This is a tool I use in tandem with a relationship of health. I match past evidence (the letter) with current evidence (ongoing acts and words of love that are the natural outgrowth of the truths in the letter, thereby authenticating the written words) and together, they show me the truth. One without the other is living in a state of denial or wishing, neither of which I’m talking about here.

 
The Power to Choose

On the days I sat on my bed, empty and aching with life's lonelilness, choosing to believe the life-giving words on a page instead of the self-loathing words piling up in my mind, I learned something critical: I get to choose.

I get to choose which words I believe and identify with.

And so do you.

We each have filthy lies whispering in our minds, echoing from the past, all of them pretending they’re truth, and all of them trying to erode our souls.

But we all have access to truth, too, and the evidence that points to it.

Sometimes it’s just the tiniest shaft of light in the darkness, but it’s there. One moment in life where someone was kind or when God’s voice could be heard through all the chaos. One single thing we can be grateful to God for providing. Even in the darkest moments, there is ALWAYS at least one. 

​

The Love Letter Jesus Left You

In these practices of holding words in my hands and consciously choosing to believe and become them, I learned a great deal about connecting with God in real, current relationship.

I used to see only the words of condemnation and death as my promises. I reserved only the bad words for myself. After all, they seemed to agree with what I’d been told up to that point.

With this new stream of life words shining in however, the clouds were beginning to break; I started reading the Bible with eyes that were willing to see the truth, and with a heart that was willing to accept its words of life for me. Even me.

I began to sit with those words of life, as strange and not-for-me as they seemed, and made a life-altering decision; I chose to believe them.

As I read of David, a “man after God’s own heart”, a man who God said pleased Him, I saw someone like me; someone who had immense emotions and dared to share them with God – the manic highs and the epic despair. That was allowed? God could handle that? Hmm!  

In David I saw a man who failed and sinned and made terrible choices. Who let temptation get the best of him. Yet this was one who God loved and accepted and gave favor? Perhaps there was hope for me after all!

It was in David I saw a closeness with God – this brotherly, best-friend affection they had for each other – and for the first time I believed not just that it was a possible thing to experience, but that I, Kim Rempel, of nowhere Manitoba, could experience it too. Me. For real. Every day.

So I sat with those words, holding them in my hands, and absorbed them as hungrily as I had the words in my husband’s letter. I devoured them. Let them become part of me. Soon, they began changing me. Where I previously felt God’s overbearing disdain, I realized his smiling delight. Where I used to feel pressure to get it perfect lest a lightening bolt find me, I now felt the tender grace of a parent helping a toddler to walk. Daddy doesn’t kick the baby. He smiles and says, “Oops, try again.”

But without having read His words and choosing to believe them, I would have missed that piece. I would have continued letting my own fears and misunderstandings define me (and God) and would have missed out on the richness of relationship.

Jesus left us a love-letter; a detailed story of what He loves about us, why He made us, and what wonderful purpose we have because of that. If we sit with it, willing to see in it the truth of who he is and who he says we are, those truths can change us. Those truths can identify us and give us a new, true name.

What are the words rolling around in your mind, trying to define you?
More importantly, how true are they?

Also, if you're looking for a short, easy read (for the lake? road trip?) This. You'll probably like this. 

It's a story of someone else caught between two names, two identities, clawing for freedom from the dungeon we each find ourselves in from time to time... 

​Plus it's thrilling and might take your breath away just a teensy bit ;) 
Only $4.99 on Amazon (or $10 for the paperback) 
Amazon Reviewers > "Gripping"  "Spellbound" 
"I highly recommend"

When God Withholds Good Gifts by Kimberly Dawn Rempel

She said she had no food in the house. She hadn’t eaten for a day.

A day.

My mind went back to the years I served at a community outreach program, where we saw homeless, hungry people every day. People who sometimes subsisted on free ketchup packets from fast food restaurants. Foodlessness was a real thing.

“Can I help you secure some food?” I asked.

“Sure.” She texted back.

We arranged to meet, and I rummaged through my pantry for whatever non-perishables we could spare. We didn’t have much ourselves, but we had more than nothing, that was certain. I poured half our tin of coffee grounds into a Ziploc bag. Coffee is a necessity of life. Let’s share. And what’s coffee without sweetener? I poured white sugar into a Ziploc bag. I grabbed a little of everything, a jar of peanut butter, a brick of butter, packets of instant oatmeal, fruit, rolls of toilet paper, and filled a grocery bag to bursting.

Then I hid it in the trunk, unsure I’d be able to give it to her.

Because here’s the other thing I knew.

People lie. They use. And abuse. And leech.
And my spidey senses were tingling about this one.

The fact was, I was still recovering from being overly used and abused in a few other relationships. As I hurriedly collected those groceries, my excitement about helping was laced with a fearful trembling. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to survive another bout of abuse. The past had taught me a critical lesson about boundaries, and how saying ‘no’ and being unavailable is sometimes the most loving thing to do – for me and for them. I was thankful for the lesson, but still reeling from the process it took to learn it.

I had only just met the woman with no food, and I didn’t really know her from Adam. She’d seen me be generous to someone that week, so maybe she’d zeroed in on me. Maybe, to her, I was just a potential fountain of free stuff. A source of supply. A means to an end. I couldn’t tell yet.

Embracing the lessons of the past, and trusting my motives and actions to God’s guidance, I offered to take the woman out for coffee. She accepted. I wanted to initiate a relationship, not a transaction.

As we drove to the coffee shop, having the typical ‘where are you from’ and ‘what do you do’ conversations that start many relationships, I started to smell the familiar stench of being lied to.
About weird things, too. Like her name. Who lies to strangers about their name?

Over coffee, red flags kept appearing. Contradictions. One minute there was no food in the house and the next, she had collected food from two separate community outreach programs in the last two days. One minute she was all alone in the world, and the next, she was connected to the multiple social services and programs around town (the very ones I was going to suggest to help her secure food). As a test, I poked around one of the inconsistencies with questions. She got mighty fidgety and wouldn’t make eye contact. Lying confirmed. Got it. Thanks.

I decided two things right there; first, that food was not the problem, so my giving food wouldn’t help solve anything. Secondly, I decided to overlook the lying. My role here was not to help, fix, or correct her, but to love her anyway. My role was not to point out and demand truth, but to love her even when she couldn’t be completely truthful for whatever reason.

I returned home and set the bulging bag of groceries on the floor, ungifted.

As I looked at the near-bursting bag I had been so excited to give my new friend, I was disappointed. I had so wanted to bless her with it. I had so wanted to see God work His magic in her heart and reveal His love to her through the gift. And I so wanted to experience for myself the joy and satisfaction of helping someone else. The reward of giving feels a lot like carefully choosing a well-thought-out Christmas gift for someone very close to you, and then getting to see their face when they open it. I love that!

But I knew, in this case, saying no was really the loving thing to do.

I wondered if God is disappointed too sometimes when He wants to give us so, so much, but has to withhold it for our good.

When God Withholds For Our Good (And Why It’s a Blessing)

As I pondered the benefits of my not giving the gift, I noticed parallels between why God might sometimes withhold good gifts from us for a time.

The biggest and most beneficial reason that came to mind was that it would have kicked off a wrong relationship

You know those people who look on and treat people more like they are vending machines than fellow humans with dreams and needs of their own? These are the takers. And, if you’re not careful, they’ll take you for all you’ve got, and then take a little more. If it leaves you a hollowed, shrivelled, shell of a person afterward, well, that’s not their problem. They just move on to a new host when the current one is spent.

I know, because I’ve been that shrivelled shell and watched them move on.

So I’m more intentional now, careful to teach people how to treat me. If I feel the teeth of a leech digging in, I either detach or shut off the generosity valve to starve them out. If they move on, I’ve flushed a leech. If they stick around, they’ve proven they value the giver, not just the gifts, and I’ve found a new friend.

God is a generous Father, and wants so much to bless us. He’s got bags and bags of blessings ready for us. Sometimes He gives them regardless of our disposition. Sometimes not.

One example of this being a good thing in my life, is God’s withholding of immense wealth or fame. I’ve wanted it since childhood. Not for the sake of wealth or fame, I think, but for the respect and appreciation of others I thought it would bring.

God has not rained money and fame on me, and I’m thankful. Had I come into such in my youth, I know my pride (disposition) would have swelled to unreachable heights. I would not have been humbled, I would not have believed God gave it, but rather that I achieved it with my own greatness, and I would certainly not have seen how much I need God. I would have had all I wanted. I would have had the gift, so why would I need the giver?

Instead, God withheld that gift, allowing my emptiness and ache and need for love make me search hungrily for those things and finally discover them in Him.  The withholding IS a gift. Thank you, Lord.

All this to encourage you today.

If you’re having a tough time drawing boundaries in relationships, be encouraged; it’s actually a very loving thing to do. Godly, even.

If you’re in that place of feeling like God isn’t giving you the gift you’ve ached for your whole life, take heart! If He’s withholding it, it’s probably because He’s got an even better gift in mind for you.

.

Leaving a Legacy of Recorded Memories - It's Easier Than You Might Think by Kimberly Dawn Rempel

There are lots of things I wish I could ask my Mom.

Things no one else on the planet knows.
Like why I got veneers on my two front teeth in childhood.
Or what changed in her heart to make her stick out a painful marriage.

She was always highly private, not even revealing her true self to her closest friends. Keeping herself secret even from her own children and husband.

In the movie Titanic, the narrator says "A woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets", which I suppose could sound mysterious and enticing, but to me it sounds like isolation and withholding. It sounds like everyone loses when our hearts remain unshared.

Two years ago, Mom passed away, leaving behind a lot of things like that I'll never know now. They are lost forever.

As a writer, a communicator, and a human, it makes me sad that we could not know each other better - that memories weren't shared.

The good thing about it is that it reminds me how powerful storytelling is, and motivates me to keep writing down stories. Recording my observations, thoughts, and even the everyday happenings and goofy stories that are part of our family (like my weird jellyfish experience) So we remember! (I'm sure half the reason I'm a writer at all is because my memory is terrible.)

All that to say two things.

First, I want to encourage you to SHARE your memories.

Record them somewhere. It doesn't have to be a book or even a cohesive story. Just write down or voice record memories as they come to you. Take notes. At least they're down then, and can be shared later if not now. At least it will be an option.

Recently I was chatting with a woman who has wanted to write her memoir. For years she's wanted to. For years, I've heard her tell interesting stories that I agree, should be recorded. And for years, she's put it off. As I explored her reasons for being stalled, I discovered several. One of them was this idea that to write a memoir required deciding to sit down and plod through almost without stopping until it was done. In her mind, it was a giant undertaking, so she put it off until 'one day' when she 'had time' for that kind of dedicated time investment.

But 'one day' is a day that never comes.

Never.

"It doesn't have to be about sitting and writing a book," I said, "You tell interesting stories to your family and friends all the time! It can be just writing down one. Just start with one. That's it. Put it in a folder, and you're done."

"Oh! I never thought about it like that," she said, seeming less burdened.

"It's not about a big project. Just getting down the pieces so the memories don't fade away or die with you."

I'm saying it to you too; if you're putting off writing your memoir or even just jotting down some of your memories, please don't. Get them down. Even just one memory stuffed in a folder is better than none.

The second thing I'd like to tell you is a secret about writing.

Whether you're documenting memories, analyzing a process, or spinning a tale, writing can feel like a big undertaking. And getting that writing into readers' hands (aka marketing), is the Goliath we all face.

It's all so DAUNTING sometimes, isn't it?

It's enough to make a writer dream of the hermit life.

Here's the secret I've discovered.

Action is the cure.

It really is. Especially when we're moving with the trust that God will open doors that need opening and close doors that need closing.

Listen, whether you believe in God or not, the truth is a static object can't be steered.
Get moving - pick a direction - and you'll start to see a path unfold.
It won't feel safe, certain, or even sane necessarily, but doors will start to open and close around you.

God said he'd part the water for Moses and the Israelites all those years ago in the desert,
but Moses had to first step into the water. He had to literally take that step of faith. This is often how God operates.

Don't know what your writing 'voice' is yet? Write anyway.
Not sure how the story you're writing will end? Keep writing.
Wondering if anyone will even read it when it's done? Keep going!

Because things will become clearer as you move forward.
Jeff Goins would call this process 'Practicing in Public'.

Jim Watkins would say 'a river cuts through rock not because of its power, but because of its persistence.'

If you want to get somewhere, it requires moving.

In the meantime, what's one highlight (memory) from your summer? Consider it a writing challenge ;). Comment below! I'd love to read it. 

Reinventing Christmas When It Falls Apart - Kim Rempel

Christmas carries pain for many of us. Loved ones can’t join us or won’t. The warmth of the memories becomes icy cold envy in the absence, and every happy commercial and smiling family is a reminder of the warm holiday you used to have and can’t have anymore.

As I’ve been navigating my own holiday upheaval, I’ve discovered how healing and re-invention is very Christmassy indeed, and how to go about celebrating even in the middle of loss and pain.

The Falling Away of Christmas

I didn’t know how good we had it. We were among the lucky ones who had multiple family Christmas gatherings every December. My family, my husband’s family, and even my aunts and uncles would have a do at Grandpa’s. Maybe I was naïve to expect Christmas would carry on as the happy family affair it was, with presents and laughter and games and so much food someone would always declare they’d have to roll home if they had another bite. It wasn’t perfect of course; the glitter and happiness often felt like a veneer brushed overtop a lifetime of unresolved issues, but we were smiling and laughing and people can still have a good time in a room full of eggshells. You just have to know where to step.

But then it all changed.

Mom died, and our family got weird out loud. In the absence of her peacemaking, we didn’t know how to get along or even seem to feel the need to try. All bets were off and the veneer was stripped away, revealing all the unresolved issues like an unprotected wound. Years of repressed strain released like a spring, piercing us; family gatherings as we knew them, ended. Children and grandchildren were no longer welcomed into the house, but invited to convene in the detached garage. Relationships fractured too, cutting one family out of the fold entirely for reasons that couldn’t be explained by anyone. All the years of food, presents, and smiling and laughing had died with Mom.

That particular family celebration had been our core Christmas thing. Now, with that space empty on my calendar and missing from the whole Christmas experience, I was left wondering how we would celebrate. How we would get back to the sparkle and splendor of Christmas when it had become so dim and empty?   

That was the most dramatic change, but every other family gathering was affected too by some invisible force I couldn’t point to. After Mom died, Grandpa died too, and the aunts and uncles didn’t invite the nieces and nephews to Christmas anymore. That long-standing gathering went up in a cloud of smoke. Piff. Just disappeared. Forever.

The in-law’s gathering had also been changing. There, time has slowly eroded the celebration a piece at a time. The long-standing tradition of exchanging gifts disappeared for no particular reason. Sorry, kids. No more presents. I don’t know why. Come to your own conclusions, I guess. One family withdrew slowly over the years, leaving everyone guessing each Christmas about whether they’d come at all. And maybe it was just me, but somewhere between eating peanuts and playing games over the years, I felt a layer of veneer settle over us. An undiscovered crack had appeared somewhere, I thought, that seemed to be expanding with time. Before you know it, our long-standing day of getting together was suddenly moved to January; the month where all the thrown out wrapping paper and leftover holiday obligations collect in neglected heaps.  

In short, all the pomp and splendor and gleeful anticipation of Christmas had shriveled and gone. 

Re-Inventing Christmas

The temptation, when our Christmas falls apart, is to feel envious of all the smiling people clustered together, chattering about the gifts and gatherings they still get to enjoy. It’s harder, I think, if we’ve known the joy of celebrating together; we know what we’re missing and feel the emptiness and the loneliness and the lack. It’s pretty easy to feel sorry for our children and for ourselves even as we look around our own homes at the twinkly lights and the decked out tree, because we know and miss the ‘more’ it could have been.

Job 1 – Heal

Fair warning, this part gets touchy feely. But hang in there; this is good stuff. So, as someone who’s been there (heck, as someone who is still hip-deep in this stuff!) I want to tell you a critical truth I’ve discovered on the path to re-inventing Christmas. Before you can move forward at all, your number one job is to mourn the loss of Christmas as you knew it. Maybe that sounds weird, but if you’re anything like me, you’d rather ball up those sad feelings, flush them, and move on with your life, thank you very much. 

Here’s the thing; we can’t heal from hurts that we don’t admit exist.

Face your loss. Let yourself feel the feelings. It’s okay to cry about not being able to play Scrabble with your family anymore. It’s okay to cry that your kids don’t get presents from Grandma or Grandpa, and never will. That IS sad. Admit the hurt and ache and emptiness. Cry it out. Punch a snowman right in the belly. Then, as you feel those feelings and let yourself ache for those things, you can mourn the loss and, in your own way, let go of those expectations.

Job 2 - Reinvent

And then, and it took me a couple of years to realize this, is that there comes a point where we need to shake off the dust from our imploded holidays and begin rebuilding. And that new, re-invented Christmas can be just as filled with joy and warmth as any from the past.

Here’s the thing about rebuilding something: we are not trying to rebuild the same thing. The old is gone, and the new must come. Let the old be gone; let it continue to exist as a memory. Cherish it. Appreciate the good in those times. And now, make new ones.

This is a process by the way, so give yourself time to figure out what the new normal will be. 

For our own family, we’ve added a celebration with friends, decided to count other things we do in December as a legitimate part of the Christmas party (like getting a live tree at a local tree farm, attending the kids’ concert, or joining friends at a city tree-lighting event). And we’re still figuring out what kinds of things we can do or add to make Christmas our own. Maybe our son will play a tune on his trumpet and we’ll all sing along. Maybe we’ll attend a Christmas Eve concert at a local church, now that our Christmas has freed up. Maybe we’ll deliver hampers or invite friends over for a night of chips and board games. We’re still experimenting.

Re-inventing Isn’t Resurrecting

Here’s the thing; reinventing is about making new, not about resurrecting the old.

That’s pretty cool, when you think about Jesus’ coming – that’s exactly what he was doing.  He came to make things right, but he didn’t make things the way they were in the beginning. He didn’t resurrect the Garden of Eden, as ideal and perfect as it was. He also didn’t come to affirm the existing religious rules of the day, intent on keeping things how they’d always been. Jesus came to re-invent life; to make it new. (which, by the way, didn't mean it was all peace and sparkles. It brought discomfort and disillusionment and frustration, too. He didn't come to bring peace. Not yet... His newness brought upheaval, and that was fine by him. Just sayin'. You know, in case you feel, as I did, that all this newness should bring peace to all my relationships and a general feeling of happiness.)

Sometimes I feel like the Pharisees must have – resentful of the changes I didn’t want and had no control over. I wanted our family Christmases to continue as they were with all the board games, candies, and the warm sounds of laughing together.

But Christmas isn’t about staying the same. Actually, it’s about looking forward. God is in the business of renewal. Change. Movement. This is good and exciting and something we can embrace with joy.

So I just want to encourage you, from one sufferer of loss to another, to appreciate the past, but to let go of those expectations that the future has to look like that. Then set to work with anticipation and even joy as you figure out with Jesus and your family what your renewed, re-invented celebration will look like.

Share below some Christmas celebration ideas to include. 

Even if they’re something you’ve just thought of doing. In this time of re-invention, let’s brainstorm together!

Encouragement for the Daunted [And a Tip for Memoir Writing] Kim Rempel

What kind of memories did you make this summer? 
(Can you remember? haha... )

As I've been working hard on my memoir these last few months, (hoping to finish it this winter so you can finally read it!!) I discover an important truth: memories are our own. No one else can enjoy them unless we TALK about them - unless we SHARE them somehow.

There are lots of things I wish I could ask my Mom.
Things no one else on the planet knows.
Things I'll never know now.
They are lost forever.

As a writer, a communicator, and a human, that makes me sad.

The good thing about it is that it reminds me how powerful storytelling is, and motivates me to keep writing down stories. Recording my observations, thoughts, and even the everyday happenings and goofy stories that are part of our family (like my weird jellyfish experience) So we remember! (I'm sure half the reason I'm a writer at all is because my memory is terrible.)

All that to say two things.

First, I want to encourage you to SHARE your memories. Record them somewhere. It doesn't have to be a book or even a cohesive story. Just write down or voice record memories as they come to you. Take notes. At least they're down then, and can be shared later if not now. At least it will be an option.


Recently I was chatting with a woman who has wanted to write her memoir. For years she's wanted to. For years, I've heard her tell interesting stories that I agree, should be recorded. And for years, she's put it off. As I explored her reasons for being stalled, I discovered several. One of them was this idea that to write a memoir required deciding to sit down and plod through almost without stopping until it was done. In her mind, it was a giant undertaking, so she put it off until 'one day' when she 'had time' for that kind of dedicated time investment.

But 'one day' is a day that never comes.

Never.

"It doesn't have to be about sitting and writing a book," I said, "You tell interesting stories to your family and friends all the time! It can be just writing down one. Just start with one. That's it. Put it in a folder, and you're done."

"Oh! I never thought about it like that," she said, seeming less burdened.

"It's not about a big project. Just getting down the pieces so the memories don't fade away or die with you."

I'm saying it to you too;  if you're putting off writing your memoir or even just jotting down some of your memories, please don't. Get them down. Even just one memory stuffed in a folder is better than none.


The second thing I'd like to tell you is a secret about writing. 

Whether you're documenting memories, analyzing a process, or spinning a tale, writing can feel like a big undertaking. And getting that writing into readers' hands (aka marketing), is the Goliath we all face.

It's all so DAUNTING sometimes, isn't it?
It's enough to make a writer dream of the hermit life.

Here's the secret I've discovered.

Action is the cure. 

It really is. Especially when we're moving with the trust that God will open doors that need opening and close doors that need closing.

Listen, whether you believe in God or not, the truth is a static object can't be steered.
Get moving - pick a direction - and you'll start to see a path unfold.
It won't feel safe, certain, or even sane necessarily, but doors will start to open and close around you.

God said he'd part the water for Moses and the Israelites all those years ago in the desert,
but Moses had to first step into the water. He had to literally take that step of faith. This is often how God operates.

Don't know what your writing 'voice' is yet? Write anyway.
Not sure how the story you're writing will end? Keep writing.
Wondering if anyone will even read it when it's done? Keep going!

Because things will become clearer as you move forward.
Jeff Goins would call this process 'Practicing in Public'.

Jim Watkins would say 'a river cuts through rock not because of its power, but because of its persistence.'

If you want to get somewhere, it requires moving.



In the meantime, what's one highlight (memory) from your summer?

Consider it a writing challenge ;)

Comment below! I'd love to read it. 

.

Marketing as a Ministry by Kimberly Dawn Rempel

As authors, we kind of curl our noses at marketing, don’t we? It’s a bit… cringe-inducing. Really, we just want to flourish words onto a page, plumbing the depths of mind and soul, and let that be our life’s work. Selling it though? Blech. 

Despite having loved marketing and sales since my teen years, I’ve felt this same way about my writing. I’d sold furniture in store, hocked coupons door to door, and sold carpet cleaning services over the phone with great success. I enjoyed the challenge and didn’t feel at all sleazy. When it came to selling my own writing though, it was a completely different story. Somehow it felt pushy to tell people about the new book I’d written, so I kept quiet about it and then became frustrated when people didn’t buy it. It was much easier, I found out, to promote someone else’s things than my own. (Can you relate?)

When I first learned about sales and marketing some 25 years ago, we were taught to talk about product features and trained to handle objections. To me, it felt like talking someone into submission – like with enough of a silver tongue and manipulation, we could get anyone to buy anything. This silver tongue approach served me well in all those sales jobs, but times have changed. People are desensitized to sales messages. They’re sick of being ‘sold’. We all are. Even being on the salesperson side, I was sick of that style of selling, too.

Thankfully, things are different now.

Marketing isn’t about the marketer and their slick pitch anymore. (not as much, anyway.) It’s about human connection and providing real value. As Tim Grahl, best-selling author says, “Marketing is the act of building long term connections and then being relentlessly helpful.” Not relentlessly saying, ‘buy my book’, but being relentlessly helpful. Relentlessly adding value to other people’s lives. THAT’S what brings sales.

This more authentic, human approach aligns more with who I am and how I want to live. Thank goodness it’s also the effective approach!

I’d take it one step further though, and add that marketing can actually be an act of ministry – of worship, of obedience, and of ministering to others.

My story:

I remember when I launched my first book, a poetry collection, which ended up being a poetic summary of my testimony. As I packed up supplies for my first-ever craft show and prepared to stand behind the table spread with my books, insecurity ravaged me. Who was I to think I had anything to offer? Who did I think I was, standing there, offering my book for sale? Why would anyone want a book of poems anyway?

Then I remembered something. God was the one who had given me that book to write. Whether it sold or not might not actually be the point. Maybe God had asked me to write, publish, and sell that book as an act of obedience – as a way to train me and give me practice for some future thing.

In that moment I realized God was the one who opened and closed doors, and any amount of fretting or “selling” I was going to do wasn’t the point. Trusting Him was. I decided I would approach the day, not as a time to sell books, but as a time to connect with people – to use this book (my poetic testimony) as a way to talk to people – to meet them in their hurt, to talk with them about faith and God’s faithfulness in their own journey.

As I stood in front of that table, divorced from my need to sell product, I was shocked at how openly some people were as they stopped and talked with me. They shared some of their faith journey, how God was faithful… even the pain they’d recently walked through! I listened, smiled, and said nothing about my books unless they asked. This wasn’t about books. This was about ministering to those I met.

The interesting thing was that many of the people I spoke with DID end up buying. They initiated it too.  At the end of the day, my soul was fully content, and it had nothing to do with how many book sold. It had to do with following through on the ministry of words – this ministry of writing, of which marketing is a part.

How Marketing Can Be Ministry

These days, I don’t stand behind craft tables to sell books. I connect with people online. Mostly, those connections happen in Facebook groups where my readers congregate. When I’m in there, I never talk about my books or services (unless the group host specifically invites people to do so). Remember, the goal is connection with humans – relationship. And being helpful. So I help. I’ll scan the feed to see if there’s a problem or question I can help with, and then comment with a solution. I’ll read people’s posts about struggles or victories, and chime in with empathy. Basically, I’m making friends.

Here’s the thing: As I’ve been doing that, my email list has been growing. I haven’t been marketing it or advertising it, or even talking about it. They just FIND it. It’s nearly the size of one of my other email lists that I had to work HARD to build. This one is effortless. That’s because Tim Grahl is right. It’s about human connection and being relentlessly helpful. (It’s also partly because I’ve set up my profile and page in a way that directs them to sign up when they stop by my page or profile, but that’s the more technical, preparatory stuff to save for another time and place.) 

The results have been wonderful. I’ve met lovely people who encourage and teach me through their own groups and writing. I’ve been invited to speak at a conference, offered guest posts, and have had multiple collaborative opportunities because of these connections. Likewise, others have also been encouraged and helped by me and have become friends. The natural progression is toward deeper relationship – they join in my free offers, and I keep making content and products that continue to help them. Some are free, some are paid.  

Sure, I want sales. We all do. But sales and marketing isn’t about hocking goods and making a buck. It’s about helping real humans with real problems.

And isn’t that why we write a book in the first place? To encourage? To help? To connect our heart to another’s?  

If you’re like I was, cringing at the thought of hocking my books, I want to encourage you – it is much more meaningful than that.  

Your story was a gift from God, and the writing of it an assignment from Him and for His glory.
But who will hear if there’s no one to tell them?  People need to know your powerful story. Talking with others about it  – sharing it with them and meeting them in their own story – this is the connection we make for Him. This is the ministry of our life, our story, and our words.

Anything is possible with God – even learning how to market your books in a way that impacts lives both by connection with you and the actual reading of your book.

Kimberly Dawn Rempel helps authors and entrepreneurs build their business and their faith through 1:1 coaching, editing, and book marketing.  Click here to Download her free guide, 14 Ways to Leverage Your Book  or join her Facebook Group, Marketing-Savvy Authorpreneurs HERE to learn more about audience building and effective book marketing.

When a Believer Hides from God by Kimberly Dawn Rempel

Sometimes I don't want to talk to God. Mostly, it's when I suddenly glimpse all the junk that still lurks in me after all this walking with Him. "You mean I'm not holy yet?!"  

Once in a while, I get real tired of missing the mark all the time, you know? How can I work so hard to please my Father and still be in a completely desperate state of needing Him. Will I ever get it right? Can I do NOTHING?!  Scripture says we can do nothing apart from Him, so why on earth do I ever expect to? Pride I guess. Wanting to be good on my own, without His help.

... sounds alot like a two year old. "No! I DO IT!!!"

But, it happens. I get discouraged. I hide myself in movies, shopping, overeating... anything to keep from thinking about how short I fall.

And He lets me, loving Father that He is. He lets me walk away, taking His blessings with me. Even if I end up going quite insane and find myself inexplicably chin deep in a pig pen, He lets me. 

But, when I've had enough of the guilt and hopelessness, he also lets me come back. Finally I become ready to show my ugly self to Him (the ugliness was only ever a surprise to me), and allow Him to fix me. 

I still don't really feel like reading or praying. I'm not happy or relieved. I'm desperate and dirty and so very dependant on Him to help me. So I tell Him my feelings, and show Him my dirt. 

And do you know how He responds? 

"My child, don't make light of the Lord's discipline,

and don't give up when he corrects you. 

For the Lord disciplines those he loves,

and he punishes each one he accepts as his child." (Hebrews 12:5,6)

I love that. He knows how much we want to give up when He corrects us. It feels near hopeless when He shows me how wrong I am - how I'm missing the mark. I want to hear 'well done', not 'okay, here's your sin...' But He loves me enough to do it. 

And He continues to reassure me:

"No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening - it's painful! 

But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living 

for those who are trained in this way." (Hebrews 12:11)

He gets it. He knows this is hard for us, and He's right there with empathy, reassurance and even a promise, setting joy before us so we can endure the now. 

But it's not just for us. There's an assignment to accomplish for the benefit of others:

"So take a new grip with your tired hands 

and strengthen your weak knees. Mark out a 

straight path for your feet so that those who 

are weak and lame will not fall but become strong." 

(Hebrews 12:12,13)

And we can please God and serve Him by the power of Jesus Christ. This book closes with a blessing the author prays over the church. I hope it strengthens and encourages you too. 

"Now may the God of peace - 

who brought up from the dead our Lord Jesus, 

the great Shepherd of the sheep, 

and ratified an eternal covenant with his blood - 

may he equip you with all you need

for doing his will. 

May he produce in you

through the power of Jesus Christ, 

every good thing that is pleasing to him. 

All glory to him forever and ever! Amen."

(Hebrews 12:20,21)

*This post was originally published at From The Heart Online

Kimberly Dawn Rempel helps authors and entrepreneurs build their business and their faith through 1:1 coaching, editing, and book marketing.  Click here to Download her free guide, 14 Ways to Leverage Your Book  or join her Facebook Group, Marketing-Savvy Authorpreneurs HERE.

The Blessing of Frailty - Kimberly Dawn Rempel

In the empty church foyer on a weekday, a young woman helps a young man hobble to the reception desk.

His young frame is frail and moves slowly and awkwardly with the aid of a cane and the young woman’s supportive arm. She holds him with every step.

Slowly. Slowly, make their way across the lobby.

I can’t stop staring at the beauty of it.

It’s a beauty reveals itself in her patience. She does not hurry him, or even look around the room to gauge what others might think. She walks slowly and steadily beside him, adjusting her speed to his, adjusting herself to suit his needs. She gives.

The beauty is also in him. He moves steadily forward, completely dependent on the cane and his friend. He accepts this assistance, and moves forward. His frailty and need does not keep him at home, angry and alone. He has bravely humbled himself and accepted his limits. He does not pull away or try to resist or run ahead. He humbly accepts help.  

Both of them, I realized, had to humble themselves, each giving up their desires for something different, each accepting what is. This beauty belongs to God – their humility and acceptance and their journey together is a beautiful example of love, and I thank the Lord for the privilege of witnessing it that morning.

As they moved on and I was left with my own thoughts, I saw me and God in that arrangement. He patiently helps me in my frailty, not looking around the room or racing ahead. He stays with me, helping me in my weakness. When I refuse the help, or try to run ahead on my own, I get hurt and fall down. When I humble myself though, and accept my frailty, humbly resting on His strength, we move ahead together slowly, slowly, and steadily.

Thank you God, for loving us tenderly and faithfully.

And thank you, even for the frailty that reveals my need of you, and that teaches me to walk in your ways. Thank you for my need that draws me deeper into relationship with and dependence on you.

Kimberly Dawn Rempel helps authors market their books and expand their reach online through 1:1 coaching, editing, and book marketing.  Click here to Download her free guide, 14 Ways to Leverage Your Book  or join her Facebook Group, Marketing-Savvy Authorpreneurs HERE.

Why Writing Success Takes So Stinking Long (And Why It’s Probably a Good Thing)

I thought I would have been further ahead by now.  

After over twelve years of being a paid published writer, and after years of devouring marketing and leadership books, I knew some stuff. So when I decided to go full time with it, I expected my sideline freelancing career to swell to mushroom-cloud heights. Work would flow in beyond what I could handle. Money would pour in too, because I was finally prepared to press the button.

Alas, it has not proven to be so.

Eighteen months since officially going ‘full time’, I’m still beating the bushes for work and slowly – oh, so very slowly building up my clientele. Worse than that, going full time kicked off a full blown identity crisis.

New life stages can do that.

Instead of racing in any one direction, I find myself standing at a crossroad most days, wondering which path I’m destined or willing to commit to.

I confess, it’s frustrating to watch others rise to success with great speed and little effort, while I toil away, pushing the same dumb rock up the same dumb hill. Especially when I know God has called me to write, and I’m trying to follow Him.

Wrestling with a Decision? How to Know Which Advice to Take - Kim Rempel

Recently, I was wrestling with a decision. The kind where I wonder who I am and what I'm meant to do. The kind where I have to wonder if freelance is worth it or if I should reduce it to a hobby and go find a real job. The kind where a path must be chosen.

Most writers have stood at this crossroad at one time or another.

Funny thing is, at this crossroad place, we don't stand alone like we might imagine. This decision doesn't get made in a vacuum of silence and solitude. We're surrounded by people in our lives who have opinions or expectations of us and who may even voice them loudly. We're surrounded by examples of people we'd like to emulate or absolutely not become. We even surround ourselves with information about our options and imaginings of how things might work out. 

The difficult thing about all the advice and information is that it doesn't all match. Finally, it gets to the point where we don’t know which advice to take. How can we know?

The decision I'm wrestling with right now is on the bigger side, but I'd like to share a story about a small decision I was wrestling with once, as a fun and slightly silly example. 

One morning, I was assessing my outfit for church. I held my scarf aside and examined my outfit in the mirror. The brown lacy neckline of the camisole was just visible above the neckline of the grey and white shirt I wore over top.  I let the scarf hang down again, and arranged it to cover the protruding lace. I didn’t want the lace to show, but, if it did peek out from behind the scarf, it should at least match. I wasn’t sure it did, so sought my husband’s opinion.

“Does this match?” I asked Mark, standing to show what I was wearing.

“I think so.”

“What about this?” I pulled my scarf aside to reveal the brown lace protruding past the tank’s neckline. “Does it match?”

“Yes.”

“Because it’s brown, and I wasn’t sure.”

“It’s brown?” He looked again, “I didn’t see that.”

I replaced the scarf and sat down, shaking my head. “Look who I’m asking.” We both smiled. He had always seemed colorblind when it comes to things like that.  

Our young daughter Abby came upstairs and began buttering her dried out toast.

“Hey, nice outfit!” I said to her, “Your purple shirt matches well with the purple pants.”

She looked down at her pants. “They’re brown.” 

Mark laughed loudly. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t tell one color from another. I said something about the purple shirt bringing out the purple tones in her pants. He just smiled and made a two-handed shoveling gesture. I smiled and walked into the kitchen and stood before her.

“Does this match?” I asked her.

“Match my shirt?” Abby asked. She didn’t look up from the toast she was still buttering.

“No, does my outfit match my outfit.”

“Oh,” she looked me over, “yes.”

I pulled aside the scarf to reveal the brown lace protruding past the neckline of my tank. “What about this?”

“Oh. I didn’t see that.”

Mark burst out laughing. I returned to the table shaking my head. For all the checking, I didn’t know any more about how my outfit looked.

I decided to wear it to church anyway. If the brown lace didn’t match the black and grey flowered tank, it seemed no one was likely to see it.

It’s a silly story about a small decision, but this is what we do, isn’t it? When it’s decision time, we go around collecting information and opinions that may or may not be helpful. This is the kind of census-taking that can leave us with a stew of varied and contrasting advice and opinions.

Making a Decision? How to Know Which Advice to Take.  

I wish decision making was straightforward, but it’s not. Especially for an over-thinker like me. There’s too much to consider. Even with the small decisions like lace on a shirt.

What might others think of my choice? What does my decision communicate about me? Is it offensive to any person or group? If it is, is that my problem? Does the decision honor God? Dishonor Him? 

This might be an over-thinker’s problem, but I suspect many writers are prone to overthought anyway, and can relate.

Litmus Test #1

In my big and small decision making, the first litmus test I run all the advice through is whether or not it aligns with what I know of scripture and of God. Whether it’s a decision about the direction my business should take or if it’s about the kind of clothes I’m wearing, I want it to honor Him.

I’m currently writing a story that’s difficult to write. It’sa fantastic story of faith and perseverance and even joy in suffering, but there are family members who would prefer I not tell the story. I wrestled with the decision of whether or not to write this story. How could I honor my family, as God instructs, while also publishing His great deeds in all the nations, as He also instructs? How could I tell the story without harming those in it? True stories are tricky business.

I could find all kinds of advice and opinions that I should write whatever I want to write, and that it’s my story to tell, and no one can tell me what to do, and they’d be right. But I’m more interested in what God will say to me about it. He’s not one to indulge self-indulgence. He’s deeply interested in our loving Him and each other though.

After much thought and prayer, I’ve decided to go ahead with the book and plan to release it in November of 2018. It’s an interesting balance to walk, and one I must continue to pray through, trying to honor God and others on the way.

Litmus Test #2

The second litmus test I use on the advice and opinions I’ve gathered is myself. Does the decision I’m making line up with my values and goals and identity? Is it something that’s good for me, or am I bending to pressure, perhaps to please someone else?  

For the people-pleaser in me, this has been difficult at times. Before I decided to go ahead and publish the book I’m writing, I was bending to the will of those family members who didn’t want the story told. It’s a story of my mom’s cancer journey and our experiences together. With her blessing, I’d already published excerpts while the book was being written. Now that she’s gone, some remaining family would like the story to be gone too.

I was torn between my desire to tell the faith-building, edifying story of her faith and mine, and my desire to please my family. I hate discord and desire peace, however, what they were asking me to do didn’t align with who I am (a writer must write!), or what I am created for, which is to shout and tell what the Lord has done.  

For a time, I chose to suppress the story for their sakes. Then, after much thought and prayer, I realized I can honor them and God and myself even in the telling of that wonderful story of joy in  suffering. So I decided to write it and share it with the world as I feel called to do.

Are you in the middle of a decision right now and getting lots of varied advice? 

Kimberly shares from the heart at her online home, KimberlyDawnRempel.com where you can sign up for her free 3-Day Faith Refresh. If you do, she'll also let you know when that book comes out! 

Authors wanting to learn more about how to market your books are invited to join her Facebook group, Marketing-Savvy Authorpreneurs here.