January 2025 – Jerry Lout ⚬ Writer ⚬ Speaker ⚬ Mobilizer

January 30, 2025January 29, 2025

Give Me A Brake

“If everything seems under control, you’re just not going fast enough”. It seems fitting the father of the quote was racing legend Mario Andretti. Mario, whose stellar career spanned three decades, was no stranger to adrenaline spikes.

In those times when called on to don my imaginary Driver’s Ed cap, I empathized with Andretti, growing an intimate acquaintance with the adrenaline rush effect. More than once.

College campus parking lots – the larger-and-emptier the better – served best for early lessons.

When I was an adolescent farm boy venturing forth as a new-driver wannabe, all the vehicles of choice were of the manual transmission (stick shift) variety.

Pasturelands were spacious across Okmulgee County and our country dirt roads were seldom, if ever, crowded. The motor vehicles my brother and I cut our teeth on included a 1955 Studebaker pickup and a pair of aging tractors – Farmall and Allis Chalmer.

Here now in the heart of bustling mid-town Tulsa, we must make the most of reality. On one or two occasions at taking my driver’s ed spot in the passenger seat of a new student’s first car I realized with a pang of apprehension the vehicle was, in fact, a stick shift model. Such days became especially memorable!

Fortunately – thanks no doubt to a keenly-alert guardian angel on hand – I recall only a couple times when I was called upon to abruptly shout , “No, No, No. STOP now!” During other spine-tingling close calls I somehow drew upon some inner reserve of calm to, in the moment, reign in the scream reflex.

Reflecting now on the many miles covered in the adventurous world of driver training, I take almost reverential pride on the keenness of mind and the resilience of so many international students. Facing an array of challenges, proving themselves triumphant.

January 23, 2025January 22, 2025

Treasured Exchange

Catastrophic grief, as many will testify, can paralyze. A numbness washing through one’s mind and body like the slow rise of an ocean’s tide. This may actually serve as a merciful buffer, sparing the person (for a time at least) an utter crushing of the soul.

When trauma with its disorienting shock floods in some find afresh that nothing substitutes for the gentle, anchoring calm of a close friend nearby.

When Henry drew his last breath at the traffic intersection, his precious Joyce was thrust into an upside down world of loss. From a mercy that heaven alone might supply, Joyce’s sense of desolation in this foreign country began easing. Juni, her American friend and fellow student, came to her aid.

What followed across the coming months and even into years ahead may be characterized as miraculous.

To the obvious question clamoring for answers, “How can good of any kind emerge out of such an evil-conceived nightmare?”, an other-worldly response would gradually emerge.

For those not having savored the tangible lovingkindness of God – whose sacrificial offering invokes levels of empathy defying description – simple language falls short.

Through Juni’s frequent presence and unimposing availability (shored up by a cadre of interceding teammates) the Spirit of comfort gained access to a traumatized, grief-stricken soul.

The precious scholar’s journey forward was marked by modest advances over long periods of time. One big setback involved a major crash when the car in which she was riding was rear-ended by a speeding motorist. This resulted in an extended hospital stay. Juni and friends, once again at her side.

Joyce found herself drawing upon the invisible strengths supplied from above through her forever sisters. She welcomed Christ himself into her life and into her story. He in turn granted, as scripture pledges, a treasured exchange. Beauty for ashes. The oil of joy for mourning (and even), the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.*

Jesus – man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.*

January 16, 2025January 15, 2025

Elusive Dawning

When young high school graduates – North American or otherwise – set off to distant places for college life abroad, they are not always met with rosy experiences.

While many students mark their overseas academic ventures as satisfying and rewarding, a good number endure unexpected heartbreak. Some facing immense loss along the way.

A Southeast Asia couple loses their precious pre-born in the final month of a full-term pregnancy. Immeasurable sorrow.

A female student is harassed and threatened by a student of her own ethnicity. The threat is forestalled only by the intervention of a sympathetic campus minister and the academy’s threat of expulsion.

In February, 2024 eleven missionary students of diverse nationalities die when a truck with faulty brakes crashes into their vehicle at high speed. Such times call for something beyond human sympathy. In periods of darkness even Scripture can seem to ring hallow.

“And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love.”*

Shortly after arriving as new students on one campus Joyce and Henry met each other. They were soon recognized as a romantic “item”. During their free times in the coming months the two seemed inseparable.

Horror struck during a criminal car-jacking attempt.

The assailant, in a rush to flee police officers pursuing him, accosted the students as they waited in their car at an intersection for a traffic light change. In the chaos that followed the armed man fired a shot, critically wounding young Henry, then ran from the scene. He himself did not survive an officer’s gunfire moments later.

In the aftermath of the terrible end to a couple’s intended happy outing, a bittersweet saga – long and arduous – began. Whatever possible ray of light may somehow lie ahead, offering any glimmer of hope, seemed elusive at best.

January 9, 2025January 8, 2025

Chef Mechanic

Counted among the grand range of specialized craftsmen who grace our world is a rare breed we might label the “Chef Mechanic”.

We know of chef. We know of mechanic. We hear at times of a ‘Chief mechanic’.

My good friend Dan Sterling – ‘Chef-Mechanic extraordinaire – entered heaven before sunrise of Tuesday this week. Spoiler alert. Our readers may detect a hint of déjà vu as, in gratitude and tender appreciation we repost portions from our ‘basement bistro’ article of some weeks back. Heaven just grew richer.

We had met Dan and Maggie at a mission event months before and soon discovered the retiree couple literally lived and breathed service. Taking early retirement from years as a diesel mechanic, Dan and his adventurous lady set about pursuing whatever fields of service they sensed the Lord opening before them. One such trail led them to a downstairs dining spot on the Tulsa University campus. Our ministry’s FIL (Free International Lunch).

Donning his kitchen apron he was set for whatever culinary tasks lay before him. Flashing his ear-to-ear smile, Dan’s call of, “OK, gang, shall we!” rallied his half dozen fellow volunteers to enthusiastic action.

Moments later the area buzzed with the clinking and clanging of pots and pans blended with a chorus of happy voices. ISM’s international luncheon prep team.

A predominant presence of talented ladies – fulltime homemakers and career women (all navigating busy schedules) – offered their collective skills preparing and serving meals for the scores of students filing along cafeteria-style serving line.

The Thursday morning atmosphere there in the basement-kitchen of the Wesley was often punctuated by a robust burst of laughter offered up through a cheery male voice. (Dan’s was a contagious laugh).

Our primary aim for the weekly lunch was to bring forward under God’s enabling a nourishing and tasty “filling” experience for each student passing along the serving table – our hospitality turf, our basement bistro. What joy witnessing the Sterling Team (Maggie and son Matthew often equally engaged) happily, generously doing their part. Rewarding grateful palates, enriching hungry souls.

January 2, 2025January 2, 2025

Out Of The Chute

Okmulgee’s Rodeo Grounds sat north of town and directly across the road from our modest acreage along Highway 75. Tuesday evenings in the weeks leading up to the annual rodeo found cowboys, their “spurs ‘ajingling”, mounting their steeds. It was calf-rope-practicing night and on occasion my brother and I ventured onto the grounds to take in the action.

At the nod of his head to the guy manning the livestock chute, the cowboy signaled his, “Let’s GO”. Our perked-up ears caught the sharp clang of a chute gate opening. Perched atop the corral fencing Tim and I watched, mesmerized as a terrified calf lunged forward into freedom, only to lose that freedom in mere seconds if the Oklahoma cowboy got lucky.

At the start of a year I see the livestock chute as an apt illustration.

Here I am among earth’s inhabitants numbering in the billions. The ball drops. Midnight strikes. A master of ceremonies shouts of an infant new year just born! High fives, kisses and hugs and ‘Yippees!’ follow.

The clanging of the chute flinging open. And each one of us gets propelled into . . . What? Routine pursuits, turns in the road, exploration of belief?

To the unsure, the seeker, the disillusioned regarding faith. Simply be assured the Lord Jesus is indescribably good and utterly worth exploring and even pursuing in the new year just dawned. Hearty prayers your way.

To the Christ-follower we may be drawn to emerge from the chute humbly offering up an old but timely ‘yielding prayer’. Like one practiced among our Wesleyan friends at the start of each year since 1755. Navigating its ‘old English’ language calls for rallying the imagination but is wonderfully doable.

I am no longer my own, but thine. Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt. Put me to doing, put me to suffering. Let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee, exalted for thee or brought low for thee. Let me be full, let me be empty. Let me have all things, let me have nothing. I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal. And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it. And the covenant which I have made on earth, let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.*

May your Twenty-Twenty-Five meet with good at every turn.