Celebrating the Power of Prayer

By Linda Grupp Boutin

2 Corinthians 12:9 And he said to me, My grace is sufficient for you: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest on me.
 

Recently I sat on the examining table in my doctor's office when she said, "You are amazing." I did not know how to reply, but kept listening. She explained the comment to me and her words reminded me that it has nothing really to do with me, but everything to do with the miracle the Lord works in my life every day. I should not be able to eat or digest much of anything at all, but yet somehow God makes it all work. His designs are so intricate that we don't acknowledge the daily miracles happening in our bodies as we breathe, eat, live...we tend to forget until something breaks down. Then we beg Him to make it work right again.This post shares why I take joy in my infirmities because they draw me so much closer to My Creator.

So easy to take so many things for granted, but this summer has been a reminder to me of how very lucky I am. If you wonder why, I must say that I have been upheld by prayer for my whole life. Even when I struggled in my faith, abandoned belief and tried to ignore the Lord in my life, family and loved ones have prayed for me. Many times I have received the benefit of prayer asking for healing for the "terminal" disease I was diagnosed with in my early 20s. My Dad and many others in my family prayed daily for me to survive. And I know that these prayers have made a huge difference in my life.

But back to this summer, the reminders came with the stark reality of two 5-day hospitalizations and a series of tests confirming that the doctors have no explanation whatsoever how anything works in my digestion. All the tests, x-rays and imaging procedures confirm the original diagnosis--chronic idiopathic intestinal pseudo-obstruction. What does it mean? That my digestion can work backwards, too fast forwards, and freeze up altogether; a mighty painful process for me. It is in this weakness that the Lord and my faith in Him has been made strong.

Intestines are not designed to stop and go into paralysis ever. They are supposed to work smoothly propelling what we eat through the mouth, taking the elevator of the esophagus down to the stomach for digestion, through the small intestine where the nutrients we need to live are picked up by the bloodstream, then through the large intestine for water, electrolytes and minerals to be reabsorbed. It is an intricate process that when it works is easy to take for granted. This summer's particular challenge resided in my esophagus.

We are only reminded of all this when something goes wrong in the process. And things went pretty wrong for me in the summer of 1979 when I was just 24. That December my weight dropped from 145 to 86 pounds. I found myself in ICU fighting for my very life. My digestion had become paralyzed the previous June and despite trying to eat, I became severely malnourished with a huge belly full of undigested food. The San Diego doctors, stumped by my disease, sent me to UCLA for help. My stomach doctor had learned about an experimental program being used there that she hoped might help me. Prayers already being answered!

The UCLA cure was tough to live with, daily dependence for 12 hours on of a  machine feeding me directly into my bloodstream. If I ate food, I landed in the hospital. So my daily prayer became "Lord, please, just let me eat, please..."

No positive answer came for 7 long years, just keep praying and waiting and praying and waiting. The Lord molded me demonstrating where my priorities should be. A couple of years into the battle, two special new friends led me back to the Lord. I started attending church again and was baptized by immersion. I continued to pray and started studying taekwondo side by side with my husband. I learned that exercise not only helped me feel better, it also created artificial movement in my intestines that helped food move through more easily. And all that time, prayers continued to be sent aloft by my loved ones and church family and me. My walk with the Lord became stronger. But His plan still had a long way to unfold.

"Most gladly...glorify in my infirmities..." That is a really tough one and hard to accept. Yet today my friend, Coleene VanTilburg

Coleene and myself at AWF

sent me an Instant Message stating that I was in such a good mood last night at the Aspiring Writers' Forum (AWF). I replied that I was simply happy, joyous! I have learned so much through all these years of struggle. Maybe most importantly is to grab the moment and make the most of it. Working with other writers, I find my purpose and try to encourage them to Celebrate Their Voices. Speak boldly about the things that you have learned. Be generous with others and encourage each other through the good times and the tough times.

And never forget the power of prayer! My husband reminded me this very morning that prayer is so important and His answer can be "Yes" or "No" and sometimes "Wait." And it is in the waiting that I have found my purpose, my joy, and my love of the Lord!

Celebrate His Guidance: Launching the Aspiring Writers' Forum

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Recently our small group leader at church asked me to send him the goals for the Aspiring Writers' Forum for the 2014/2015 season. At first, I began to formulate a new set for our sixth year. But then I remembered that we had written all this out when we proposed the group before our first year. So I started searching for the documentation for that time that now feels so long ago. A sense of time can be such a tricky thing to keep track of, time can float by so quickly while I am caught up in the dramas of the day.

After a not too lengthy search, I found the original proposal formed the summer before our very first meeting. The more I read of this document, the more astonished I became about how clear we were from the very beginning in our purpose and plan. I had attended many writers groups while living in San Diego County in my earlier life. Some had been larger, some smaller, some a collection of students, others with published members working on their second books. The weakness of them all came from the fact that everyone was consumed by their own projects and the competition between the writers scared some from ever considering writing (or sharing) anything again.

I always felt that setting up this group was inspired by the Holy Spirit. First came a desire on my part to reconnect with the writing community after a 10-year hiatus. A fruitless search in January led to frustration for me and writing in solitude with no feedback or fellowship. About that time I was invited to join several others at a weekly study called The Truth Project. At the end, we were each challenged to take what we had just learned and apply it somehow in our lives. Immediately upon hearing this, I felt compelled to start a Christian writers group. Now mind you, this is 100% out of my comfort area, I never initiated the beginning of a group of anything!

The first people I dared to share this tiny flame of a dream with were my small prayer group sisters and there I found my first encouragement. Everyone loved the idea and we all prayed for the success of the endeavor. But not only support, even better my fellow writer and friend Coleene VanTilburg agreed to partner with me in leading the group. Next I brought the idea to our ministry leader at the church and to my amazement, she liked the idea as well. Each discussion brought the inevitable question, what is a Christian writers group? None of those I spoke with had heard of such a group before.

At that time I didn't know of anything like this, only an online group called Faithwriters.com that Coleene had told me about. Since that time 6 years ago, I have learned of other Christian writers groups, but none that met on a weekly basis as we planned. We wanted to build some writing habits in our members and meeting weekly became pivotal to exercising those writing muscles.

Most importantly to me however was the creation of a safe harbor, where we could together as writers build upon our shared Christian values, express those deep and protected spiritual beliefs, and receive feedback to enhance both our creative and faith-built voices. But how could such an idyllic plan become a reality? Would anyone even want to come to such a meeting? Coleene and I discussed our fears and dreams and hopes coming to absolutely no conclusions. She traveled that summer to the Faithwriter's conference for writers and came home even more excited about our shared desire to build this little group.

With mounting trepidation I gathered decorations for the sign-up table assigned to us for four August Sundays we would man before, in between and after our regular church services. We prayed together, we consoled ourselves that it would be great if only one or two signed up to join us, we sweated through the final July days with only the heat that a Southern California sunny day can produce.

We rendezvoused together that first August Sunday before first service, just enough time to set up our combined decorations, join hands and pray one last time. The sun pored down as it is wont to do on hot mornings and beads of sweat gathered on our foreheads as our congregation began to arrive and see the commotion of Small Group Leaders sitting behind tables, sign-up materials close at hand. I felt so completely out of my league surrounded by others who understood so much more and better than me.

Linda Boutin and Coleene VanTilburg at AWF sign-ups

Time went into warp that morning and before either of us could get any more nervous, we both found ourselves answering questions to people we had never met before. Each answer clarified even more clearly just what we were attempting to do. And before the clock had turned from 9 a.m. to noon we found ourselves counting our sign-ups and astounded that so many had signed up the very first day! By the end of the four weeks a dozen people planned on joining us every Wednesday night for an hour and a half to share our love of writing enveloped in our love of the Lord. And not any one day since has ever been the same in my life because of this little dream that ignited a bonfire in my life.

So I encourage each and every one of you reading this, to listen carefully to those quiet whispers from the Holy Spirit. Allow some space and silence in every day for His Voice to speak directly to you. And when it prompts you to speak to someone you see who is shy, or buy a coffee for the car behind you at Starbucks, or asks you to do some other outlandish act you have never considered before in your life--run, do not walk, to do His Will. There is a plan so perfect and incomprehensible to you at that moment, so do not shrink back, but Celebrate His Guidance.

A Father's Voice: When Will This End?

By Linda Grupp Boutin

I heard an anguished father's voice. Deep in the throes of grief over his son's death last Friday night at UCSB, my heart broke as he spoke. All his inhibitions were turned off. He spoke his mind with force and truth. He demands a solution to the problem our society faces. On why we as a culture accept more and more shooting sprees. On why students just days away from graduation must fear for their lives and dive for cover as the shooting starts. On why the NRA and our politicians keep allowing those obviously unable to cope with daily life encouragement to buy and keep automatic weapons that they can then use to wreak havoc on whomever they choose.

So once again we must ask ourselves why a troubled young man legally owned 3 automatic handguns. Once again we must ask why did he have more than enough ammunition in clips of 10 shots each to have taken out over 400 people. About why he was allowed to put one of his roommates in jail for stealing $22 worth of candles, but when his family reached out to law enforcement to check if he was okay, almost nothing was done. It is carefully explained that he was polite to the police when they checked on him. That he did not qualify as a 5150. That he was legally competent to buy the weaponry and clips and ammunition that he took with him in his shiny, black BMW. REALLY?

How many grieving families do we witness before we arise in protest? How close does it need to come to your neighborhood before we decide ammunition clips of 10 to 50 rounds are meant for soldiers defending our shores, not for the average person walking on the street? Do you allow it just because the NRA says it must be so?

I can tell you that it has come way too close to me for comfort. I am plagued by memories of a gunman opening fire in a McDonald's less than 2 blocks from my home. I am exhausted wondering  which of my nieces of nephews is at which college around the country when a young man reaches his breaking point. My niece just graduated from UCSB last spring. Thank goodness he didn't decide to open fire a year earlier when she walked those very streets. Yet just because she is safe, still there are 6 other young people dead today along with the gunman himself. One of those who died was 22 years old and from the very city where I live! And why in the world do we tolerate our elementary schools becoming the killing grounds for disenchanted and sick young mens' discontent?

These are not the values that have made America great over the centuries. And so many of these shootings wind up with the troubled person shooting themselves! Why do we allow this to continue? When we as Americans make up our minds to do something about a problem, we are strong standing together. The majority of Americans no longer even own guns. Most of us feel that gun laws must be strengthened, but what have you actually done to help with this problem? Have you picked up a phone and called your representative? Have you sent an e-mail to your senator? Have you signed a petition calling for stronger background checks before guns can be purchased?

Listening to that anguished father admit that he did nothing when he heard of Sandyhook illustrates the problem. Now he is speaking out, do each of us need to lose a loved one to a gun before standing up? Let's get proactive and realize we too are just one gun away from his pain. Can you hear his voice and empathize?

Celebrating "Laryngitis"

By Linda Grupp Boutin

My friend and writing partner asked me if I had posted anything on my blogs recently. I explained that I had had a case of writing "laryngitis." She sounded confused about such an odd description. I have always had a tendency to lose my voice...both literally and figuratively. Some alchemy between my early experience in a large, confusing family and the trials of adulthood require that I sometimes sit back, observe, and search out order in my world. When life becomes a bit too crowded, my tendency is to find a small hiding place and wait to see.

And so my waiting continued for a month and more. Knowing that I needed to post something new, but just not able to find the words to fill the page. And I continued waiting and wondering why the wait needed to be so long. I have learned long and hard techniques for developing patience and rather than getting upset over the "laryngitis" I kept the faith that my voice would return when the time was right.

Then it happened! My voice re-emerged in the excitement of sharing the good news from a friend that her submission had been accepted for publication! Wow, I had a voice enough to carry on a conversation with her for hours. We both stood amazed that so much time had passed by getting to know one another just that much better.

In a way, I had been nurturing my voice, treating it with honor like lemon and honey soothes a sore throat. And by Wednesday I found myself typing up a personal essay. Almost 2000 words, it just sort of flowed out naturally and no evidence of my malady remained. I had found my voice and was just so grateful for its return. 

Another friend asked me how my week had gone and I said it was busy but fun! And it has been. Sunday we celebrated 3 friends birthdays together just for food and conversation with our spouses. Monday night I walked with one of my speakers through her CoffeeBreak presentation. Talk about a faithful woman who followed God's lead every step of the way. She sounded so comfortable speaking in front of 175 women or so sharing how the Lord has worked in her life. After she spoke her son came up on stage and joined her. He sang a song he'd sung to her while she battled cancer and the love for his mother overflowed into tears. We in the audience sat in amazement at the family solidarity worked in this Mom's favor to overcome a very serious disease.

Wednesday night I spent coleading the Aspiring Writers' Forum with more discussion of stories submitted for publication. One of our members had not heard either way about the anthology she had submitted a story for consideration. I advised her that maybe she should e-mail the editor just to check because our other writer who was accepted hadn't heard from her either. 

She went home from the meeting and searched out the editor's e-mail address. Within minutes she had her answer too. Yes, her "fun" family story had been accepted! Long and short of it, both of their stories had been accepted but because the stories needed no editing, the editor hadn't contacted them about their acceptances!

So although I have had a touch of writer's laryngitis, the seeds I have sown over the last 5 years for storytelling in CoffeeBreak and for writing in the Forum have sprouted and borne fruit. I am so thankful that the Lord allowed me to overcome my illness in 2006 & 2007 because now I feel like I have finally found the correct path He wants me to follow. I spend my days immersed in story, thinking about how to best portray my friends' stories and watching while they reach out and touch others with their poignancy. I have found my niche and enjoy the passion I feel for what I am doing. PTL!

Celebrating All the Summer Days

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Summer, nothing better in life to celebrate than those long, warm days playing in the sun, catching up with friends, allowing time and space for God's Word to manifest itself in my heart. This season I've experienced a special sense of catching up and celebrating all the Lord has given me. I waited with breath held for the final meeting of the Aspiring Writers' Forum in mid-May. Once past, I let the long days wash over me, sleeping late, trying to heal some wounds, taking each moment one at a time. When we slow life down a bit, it allows time to reset our priorities. 

My co-leader Coleene VanTilburg and myself

Two clocks measure my time these days. I am committed to working with writers in the Aspiring Writers' Forum (AWF). From September through May, every Wednesday evening devoted to encouragement, discussing writing, reading and sharing what we have written. While in these meetings, time revs up seeming to disappear before we can complete all we want to do. This is the first summer in 4 years that I have taken a complete break from meeting with this group. By allowing time to recharge, I have renewed energy and enthusiasm to get back to work. And for the next few weeks my partner Coleene and I will be signing up those who want to embrace Christian writing through next May. So AWF will take up a major portion of my thought, time and energy starting again in September.

The second clock measuring my days revolves around a special women's ministry at our church called Coffee Break. One Monday evening each month we gather together to share coffee, tea and desserts, games and worship songs, and listen to one woman from our congregation share her story. I work with the speakers ahead of their speaking date, preparing them for the experience. I have never been involved in anything so satisfying in my life. I hear about miracles of faith from the past and witness growth in the speakers' lives as they prepare. When women accept this assignment to speak, they cannot anticipate how this single act of obedience can change their lives.

Signing up writers for Aspiring Writers' Forum

The next meeting will be in October and I have been working with the speaker since April so she can practice and polish her presentation. In so doing, we have developed techniques to help inexperienced speakers feel relatively confident when they tell their story to an audience ranging from 100-150 women. After 3 years and 21 speakers, we listen every month about how unique each woman's story is and what each one uses to cope with the challenges she encounters in her life. Many of my summer days are spent in reading and advice in writing these stories out.

A process has developed and most of us think this sounds far easier than the actual doing turns out to be. Today our pastor defined sanctification versus justification in the Christian life. The sermon spoke directly to my heart as I have witnessed the growth in my life and others who have spoken for this ministry. 

So I have celebrated this summer by immersing myself in "story," time well spent reading, writing, encouraging and recharging. Our lives bring different seasons during which we are afforded the opportunity to learn a lesson or two. My take away from this season is to listen carefully, both to those around you and to the Holy Spirit in your life.

Opening the Magic Box

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Do you remember it? The waxy smell when you cracked it open that first time. Your eyes filled with colors unimagined begging you to try them on crisp white paper just to see them better. That wonderful teacher who demanded the big, 64-color box with the sharpener and a real gold and silver crayon. For me, it happened at the beginning of school each fall. Holding the precious recommendations of school supplies, inevitably a new box of crayons headed the list of needed items. Some years, only 8 or maybe 24 crayons might be required, but I could count on a new box of fresh, unbroken crayons.

Brand new set of 108 crayons!

Opening that box, I tried to keep the brand new smell, look, feel to those colors. I wanted to always return one of those soldiers to the position assigned by Crayola. Each vibrant shade and hue of the rainbow had a proper place in the box. Alas, it never lasted. Somewhere along the line, I needed more than one precious stick at a time. Where does this one go? How do I realign them to return to their proper comrades? Ah well, rearrange them now according to my preference, all the blues together, greens grouped nearby, purples near reds, oranges with yellows on the other side, and a white and black along the edge, easy to find.

Now to see what I could do with these magical tools that could transport me beyond the walls of the schoolroom. The Mediterranean Sea took on a deep blue hue, the boot of Italy green and dangling dangerously down into the water, France floating serenely above the sea with a combo of brown mountains and green valleys, Spain and Portugal taking up the position to the west leading temptingly out to the Atlantic Ocean...Or perhaps my glance might take me out the window into the mountains surrounding the San Fernando Valley. My picture always showed the splendor of those nearby hills in purple and blue hues. No amount of arguing could convince me to use an ordinary shade of brown or even green. My mountains shouted out to be painted in brilliant colors. Okay, so I didn't get an A in art, but I had a good time demonstrating my perspective on the subject.

Those magic boxes carried dreams inside, dreams of childhood, dreams of fame, dreams of acknowledgement of our small voices calling to a much larger world. No, though I loved my crayons, visual arts didn't work out for me. Instead I employ words to transport you to another time and place. I celebrate that words can be as vibrant and alive as the most fabulous of reds, the verdant greens, the peaceful blues.

But no matter what your medium might be, visual, fine or folk; writing, short or novel length; singing, gospel or modern, express that element in your soul you wish to share with the world. Don't critique yourself, just follow where the Spirit leads you. Some art explores the beautiful and easy, some brave ones look into our darker sides in a effort to illuminate that other part of the world. Either way, only you can sing your song, so trust it and celebrate that voice the good Lord gave you. By opening that magic box of insight inside you, you will make this world a better place to be because of you.

In the Spirit of Love

By Linda Grupp Boutin

"For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline." 2 Timothy 1:7 (NIV)

     Two of the most demanding disciplines in my life are writing every day and loving those around me unconditionally. Both require exactly what the verse above explores. God designed human nature not to be fearful, but to be powerful with love and self-discipline when following the example of Jesus. Whenever I successfully set aside my fears, step out in faith and embrace another in need, then my insecurities recede to the background. 
     At times in my life a fair description for me was an introvert. Many times I wanted to go and run and hide away from everyone and everything. Slowly I came to understand what I feared most were my problems. One teacher told me, "Linda, you must tame your fears and walk them like a dog on a leash." This solution presented me an image I could relate to and use when my first thought to withdraw overcame what I knew I should do. I know how to walk a dog on a leash properly, although sometimes I allow my dogs to get away with pulling me around. Have you ever had that sensation of being pulled in a direction you do not want to go?
     So how does a spirit of power that is empowered by God, help you get through the day? First I needed to experience confidence in my passion. At the deepest level I understood that everyone I had ever met wanted to express themselves. So many bore wounds so deep they could not find their voice, much less say what they needed to say. The courage needed to pick up a pen, or paint brush, or sing a song defeated so many talented individuals. I pulled out my bandages and when allowed began binding up those wounded by life. The source of all this pain varied from person to person, but one salve applied to the cuts of life worked, unconditional love.
     Now don't even think I have mastered the act of unconditional love, it ebbs and flows just like the tides within me. However models of that behavior have impacted my life for so much good that I just keep striving. It is the simple act of trying to love unconditionally that winds up stretching out a helping hand and assists the next person to take that very first step. And as one life interlocks with another life, a hand can be extended to the next person and so on and so on until a human chain pulls up the next person in line.
     So the next time you see a person in need, in whom you recognize an aching soul, take that moment to extend a helping hand. You might find you experience the joy of impacting another person's life for the good. Just like a smile, laugh or tear can be contagious, so too can encouragement help that person take that next courageous step. And then the next time you see that pain, it gets a tad bit easier to extend your help. You'll learn that sometimes it takes repeated effort or someone else doing the same, but once you see hope light up in that one person's eyes, you will find the pull of helping irresistible.

Quote for tonight: "EnCOURAGEment is the act of giving someone courage." Beth Moore 

A Commitment

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Writing hurts. Sharing a difficult truth takes courage. Reading your words aloud requires faith in your listeners. Honest self expression amazes. All of these need commitment. It has been my honor over the last four years to walk beside some special women and men who have made that amazing commitment, to express themselves with truth, skill and courage. This blog commits to showing you, the readers, the value in Celebrating Your Voice.

Do you remember all those school days when people hushed you? No talking, be quiet, you have nothing to say! Programmed for over a decade, we learn, we learn to hide our voice, keep quiet, and never share those innermost thoughts. It is dangerous, put on that happy face, all is fine, YOU know the line and the lie.

We get so good at concealing our true selves that many of us spend most of our lives trying to simply find ourselves. Some secret self so buried under tons of rubbish that sometimes we can never liberate that voice within, much less celebrate it.

A terrifying and liberating step led me to finding and ever so slowly learning to celebrate my voice. Not easily, not quickly, in no way painlessly, step by step I spoke my way out of the abyss of silence. With a baby step, I asked a friend about an inspiration. "Let's start a writers' group at church," I whispered. "Would you like to co-lead it with me." I could not even contemplate doing this alone. Thankfully she agreed and we started to grow a dream.

Coleene and Linda at Aspiring Writers' Forum

Like the smallest of mustard seeds, we started growing. A tender shoot arose and we took turns watering and fertilizing it. The subject of endless discussion and prayer between us, I so thank Coleene VanTilburg for daring to dream with me, together, united. And that miniscule little plant began to grow and we were so amazed. 

I brought the idea to our church leadership, AND they said YES. Now we really were committed, but would anyone want to join us? We hoped that maybe one of two might, daring not to even think there would be more than a few of us to fill the six seats around the table reserved for us in the church library. The first steps of learning to celebrate our voices had begun.