Make Them Believe

by Tanara McCauley @TanaraMcCauley

Long Beach, 1997. I sat in a movie theater with a friend doing something I’d never done before in my life: ugly crying in public.

I couldn’t pull myself together, and the frustration of trying made me cry even harder. My only consolation was that my friend didn’t let me cry alone.

At the conclusion of Titanic, we watched Jack sink beneath the icy waters, his eyes fixed on Rose, the woman he’d pursued with abandon and for whom he’d sacrificed his life. We didn’t have to speak to know that our tears were fueled by the same question: How must it feel to be
loved like that?

I certainly didn’t know, and because my friend was dating my playboy cousin at the time, I was sure she didn’t know either.

Though the account was fictionalized, the type of love it portrayed did exist, and the timing of the tale was the perfect wake up call for me.

I hunched in that theater seat grieving the realization that I had bought into the toxic definition of relationships glorified in popular culture at the time, and I left inspired to believe something better for myself.

Hence, the importance of story.

“Stories make us more alive, more human, more courageous, more loving.”

~Madeleine L’Engle

While stories, in whatever form they’re told, retain the same potential for influence as they did decades ago, their value seems to be declining. We live in an age where entertainment and social media are king and bookstores are closing. If something’s not instant, it’s not “in.”

As a teacher of high school students, I often had to find creative ways to get my students to read independently beyond what was required. It took a considerable amount of campaigning to convince them of the worthiness of books. If not for those efforts, my classroom library would
have been little more than decoration.

In addition to reluctant audiences, writers can also lose sight of the true value of story, especially when considering the practical objectives of the profession. We want to wield the power of words for good, but we also want to publish, sell, get good reviews and new contracts.

We draft pages born of hours of research and torment before a blank computer screen; the idea that someone might just skim over those pages is disheartening, as is the fear that we may be misunderstood or might unwittingly offend with our content.

These risks can make the telling of a new story—or the telling well—seem not worth the effort.

And yet, the stories must be told.

For there are readers, perhaps even just one, who will discover through our characters’ journeys or our memoirs what they couldn’t believe on their own: that broken hearts heal, miracles still happen, the unknown is worth braving, and Prince Charming is coming, though he may need a
little grace for his slow progress in salsa lessons.

Three years following my post-Titanic epiphany, I met the One who sacrificed His life to save my soul. Two years after that I married the man I’ve called husband for twenty-one years. It took a moving account of great love to spur my search for the same, and now I get to live what a story dared me to believe.

So be faithful to tell your story, and may the Lord make believers of every heart it touches.

Tanara McCauley is a writer of stories inspired by the adventure she lives in Christ. That adventure includes one husband, three children, and a fearful little dog named Charlie. And books. Lots and lots of books. Visit her website at  or Facebook.