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At one time I would have rejected all thought of writing an autobiography. I could not conceive for one thing that anyone would ever want to read what I was writing about myself. Indeed it was almost an axiom of good writing according to my understanding that the writer should make himself as unobtrusive as possible. I assumed as a matter of course that readers were more concerned about the subject matter than about the person who wrote it. With this in mind I studiously avoided the use of the first person singular.
Yet on reflection I realised that there are some useful features in autobiographical writings. Some at least focus on experiences with which the reader can identify, or at any rate adapt to provide challenges or encouragements in differing although parallel situations. It is this kind of writing which I felt had some justification. I was not drawn to that kind of autobiography in which a writer sets out to impress his readers with a series of contacts with other people, although from a social or historical point of view this genre is sometimes valuable. It did not seem the kind of autobiography that I was equipped to write.
The more I thought of writing the kind of book which would be revealing, the more I tended to shy away from the exercise. If I really wanted to make any contribution to other peoples’ experiences, I would have to come to terms with the need to talk about myself in a realistic way and I knew there was a definite cost factor in doing this. But when a person has experienced much of the goodness of God there is great consolation and even joy in the sharing of it with others. It is with this in mind that I proceed to reminisce on the hand of God in my own life in the hope that it may provide some encouragement to others who may perhaps be able to enter into dialogue with it.
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