The Art of Unlearning Introduction

I'm asking for your help this week. Many of you know I've been working for quite a while on a new manuscript with the working title "The Art of Unlearning." My editor isn't a fan of the title so that probably won't remain, but I've worked and reworked the intro to this book until I can barely see straight. About twenty people reviewed the entire manuscript last year, and one common comment was that the first two or three introductory chapters were much weaker than the main chapters that actually dealt with the lies that need to be discarded. One reader even told me, "I wouldn't have kept reading if I wasn't doing this for you, but I loved the rest of the book and am so glad I did."

So I've collapsed three chapters into one. What I'd like to know from those of you willing to read this is this: is this an introduction that makes you want to read more? Does it work? Is there a section that could/should be cut? I'm directly asking for constructive criticism, so please don't hold back. On the other hand, if you think I've fixed it and the intro is now intriguing enough for you to want to read more, please let me know.

Writing spiritual formation books is getting more and more difficult as, to be honest, there are fewer and fewer readers of them. Which means I need to make this as compelling as I can. I am SO GRATEFUL for any feedback you might leave in the comments. 

---

“In this way they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold of the life that is truly life.”

1 Timothy 6:19

Walking hand in hand with my granddaughter, I was taken aback when she ripped her hand out of mine, covered her ears, and started crying.

What in the world?

A fire truck, siren blaring and horn honking, raced by, and I realized what had set her off.

Okay, I thought. She’s a young child (three years old at the time), horns can be loud, of course they’re scary.

Later in the same visit, I saw her do the same thing, but I couldn’t understand why. I listened more carefully, and way off in the distance, I could barely discern a siren. My granddaughter had, for one reason or another, connected sirens with terror. They didn’t have to be loud; they just had to be there. 

Fortunately, she has two amazing parents, much smarter and more attuned to parenting methods than her grandparents were. So, on the next visit, I was walking beside her when I heard a siren and started to panic on her behalf. Anna looked at me with empathy and said, “It’s okay, they’re just going to help someone.”

With patience, training, and a proper explanation, her parents helped her understand that what seemed terrifying was actually a loud noise of assistance. Instead of being threatening, she now saw sirens as something helpful and even good.

So, Poppo, chill!

If we would take the time to parent ourselves in this way, thinking through what ails us, we, too, could erase many fears, frustrations, and even a good bit of bitterness and anger toward God.