May 2025 – Jerry Lout ⚬ Writer ⚬ Speaker ⚬ Mobilizer

May 29, 2025February 6, 2026

Slave Boy

The shock was mildly traumatic for a seven-year-old on that March morning. A gaggle of elementary children, rushing toward a handful of their unsuspecting classmates – myself included.

Eyes flashed in mischievous glee, small hands stretching our direction. Too late we discovered our necks and arms were targets. The chubby fingers of our young assailants had been poised to strike any person in their line of vision – those whose garments did not display the magic color green.

The inevitable pinch followed. “Ouch!”

That morning at Wilson Grade School I got rudely introduced to a curiously labeled holiday – Saint Patrick’s.

To the surprise of many (leprechaun folklore and emerald-tinted beer aside), the ancient account of the authentic Saint Pat of history yields elements of intrigue. Patrick’s story rallies the imagination, stirs emotions, and inspires.

Saint Patrick, oddly enough, was not himself Irish.

The 16-year-old of fourth-century Britain was kidnapped and whisked off to Ireland by a band of marauding invaders. Sold into slavery he labored for years as a herdsman. In prayer he turned to Christ. The spiritual discipline of prayer would come to mark the pilgrim forever.

The pages of Patrick’s autobiography, Confessions, disclose a surprising turn of events lying ahead for this shepherd-boy slave. A dream came to him one night. In the dream, a voice spoke to him,

“Soon you will be returning to your own country”. What could this mean?

May 22, 2025

Salute to Maidens

(dear readers, thanks for kindly indulging a shout-out. We celebrate a granddaughter’s graduation and commissioning tomorrow, May 23, 2025, at the U.S. Naval Academy, Annapolis. Well done, “amazing” Grace.)

Social media was abuzz a while back as myriads of accolades found their way to devices of all kinds, lavishing praise upon a host of individuals – daughters, wives, mothers, sisters, grandmothers. A nonstop flow of celebration spotlighted this distinctive sector of humanity occupying our planet.

Women.*

Which prompted me to reflect on a select list (not exhaustive by any means) of ladies who’ve especially affected my life from “back when”. The exercise gave rise to awakened feelings of gratitude.

*My country-girl mother, Thelma Christine Bay Lout, riding urban buses day after day across the busy metropolis of Tulsa, just to sit for hours at my bedside. Prayers accompanied her presence through those three months of my residency in Hillcrest Hospital’s Polio Ward. When specialists voiced no assurance that my paralyzed legs might ever again bear up my body’s weight, mom weathered the prognosis. Loving me. Interceding for me.

*The evening eighteen-year-old Alice Ann Barnes – sitting next to me beneath a Billings, Montana street lamp – pondered my request as I timidly asked her to become my wife. The marriage proposal included a fine-print detail I felt I should in fairness share, “You and I would likely be living overseas. Probably Africa.”

Ann Smiled (a positive sign?). Then responded,

“When I was nine-years-old I told my parents I was going to grow up and be a missionary in Africa”.

Ann’s ‘yes’ resulted in some daring moves. Leaving her Big Sky country, venturing to live in Oklahoma, Texas, then New York. Afterwards, it was Kenya and Tanzania. Our first child (Julie), then our second (Scott), and finally our thirdborn (Amy), each drew in their first baby breaths in a delivery room of Nairobi Hospital. In time – decades later – Ann would work as a Registered Nurse in a large medical center back again in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

The facility’s name rang a bell. Hillcrest Hospital, whose original facility (same location), had once served as a place of shelter and care for the uniquely ill. Children and youth besieged by a virus called poliomyelitis.

*She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future. (The Proverbs Woman, Prov. 31:25)

May 15, 2025May 15, 2025

Interior Design

“Jerry, when are you going to stop apologizing for who you are not?”

My periodic coffee meetups with Dave had tooled along for a couple years’ when he delivered the gut-punch question. Straightforward as he was, I had not met with such terse language from my esteemed life coach friend. Now moving into my seventh decade of life on Planet Earth, the months going forward would witness to the truth that Dave’s provocative challenge came at a good moment.

Like many people afflicted with the self-questionings common to classic naval gazers, I had grown fairly adept at masking my personal insecurities. Being a person with something of a quick wit, I could without realizing it employ a periodic splash of comedic humor, which could in turn detract from my inbuilt fear of failure. Lighthearted levity, I would afterward see, can serve as a handy denial mechanism.

A curiosity stirred inside me about the Panera Bread friend seated across our table. What was it about Dave that got himself out of bed each morning? What fueled his relentless desire to help men – a lot of men by now – to move into life’s slow lane and think reflectively? Many of us gents, I came to realize could gain a thing or two from doses of down-to-earth wisdom.

Among the special toolbox instruments wielded by this retired airline industry professional was the tool of helping me uncover a short list of fundamental things that make me tick. For a good while I had carried an unspoken yearning to understand what it was that had been making me get out of bed each morning!

Your One Degree, states the website blurb, is a personalized, coach driven program helping you discover and implement your unique God-given Design.*

Dave’s question that day over coffee blew open a window, making way for a breeze of revelation to waft in. I had been much aware in a general sense that I, like all image-bearers, had been created on purpose, yes by design. These sessions with Dave Jewitt and the thing he had dubbed “Your One Degree” had been wakening a truth in me. I am invited to quite intentionally cooperate with the Divine in unleashing (even at this senior age) still further elements of life-giving juices. All this in the company of and under the administration of the Spirit. God’s truth-anchored Spirit.

I am now pretty much done apologizing for the person I am not.

Gems of life-shifting perspectives can emerge in varying kinds of settings. It seems that – amidst them at least – God carries a fondness for coffee shops.

May 8, 2025May 7, 2025

Promising Prospect

Those surprise happenings that all of a sudden spring up in our lives. Such a moment came when Ann and I learned that our nephew Todd and his wife Karena were selected as backup singers for Andy Williams in his popular Branson show.

As special as this was, we grew happier still when word came of the debut of a blockbuster theatrical production in the same family-friendly entertainment center. Branson, Missouri nestles along the shores of Table Rock Lake in the glorious Ozark Mountains

Learning that Todd and Karena would be portraying a range of varying characters in scenes of The Promise – a robust contemporary musical depicting Jesus’ life – we reached out to some T.U. students for a special kind of road trip.

During one of these excursions as our van negotiated the scenic landscapes of Ozark Country, a young man – a father-to-be – broached the subjects of conscience and of faith. Mr. Ming displayed an intensity of emotion.

The child had been conceived at an inconvenient time. Their discussions over the unplanned pregnancy found the couple grappling over the pros and cons of a probable impending “procedure”.

Later on, after taking in The Promise production – a beautifully choreographed musical – and afterwards enjoying a nice chat with my “celebrity” nephew and niece, our group boarded the van for our return to Tulsa. Along the highway route, the earlier conversation resumed.

Mr. Ming, leaned forward from his place behind the driver’s seat, volleying question after question on the value and possible dignity of life. We spoke of the precious worth of each created person. Our back-and-forth dialogue ignited still more questions. Scripture was brought into play.

Through the days that followed Mr and Mrs. Ming and their unsettled minds were privately presented to heaven by believing friends.

Weeks passed. Months rolled by. Weighing their options in view of a freshly illumined conscience the couple made their call. And, when into the family circle the new little one entered the young parents pressed forward with deeper assurance than ever into their own infancy pilgrimage. Trust in God – author and guardian of life – was their new North Star.

May 2, 2025

Fun Night

“It’s Friday, so tonight I’m off to the Fun Mosque!”

“Fun Mosque?”

Throughout my years I had never considered these words as linked. Would not have thought of the pair as a compatible couple. Now, here was my friend and ministry colleague, Terry – a knowing smile lighting his face – more than happy to address my puzzled expression.

“Yeah”, he chuckled, “I’ve taken to calling it that.”

“You probably know the place”, he went on, “the little mosque a few miles out where this group of nominal Muslims from (he mentioned a country) meet up every week. I’m friend to several of the guys. We have a fun time visiting over any number of things, including culture and faith. . . or no faith.”

My friendship with Terry got its’ launch in 2007 at a Panera Bread on 41^st Street. He and his wife had served for years in the Middle East – responding to Jesus’ call to “make disciples of all nations”. Both are fluent in Arabic. Now – after a long, difficult but fruitful season overseas – they had settled back in Tulsa. Hearing of our campus work, Terry phoned. We arranged a meetup over coffee. He soon joined the staff. Our friend-and-co-worker relationship grew rich and deep over the years.

“Most of my ‘Fun-Mosque friends’”, Terry was now explaining, “have little use for religion of any kind.” He continued,

“Witnessing firsthand the heavy-handed way their country’s leaders have for years tried to impose their brand of Islam on the citizens it. . . well, it’s turned them off.” Terry sipped his coffee.

“Still, most all these guys are quite welcoming of new friends. They’re warm and engaging. They bring out food as we carry on visiting, joking, laughing, and sharing stories.

“And we talk serious things as well”, Terry went on after a pause.

“Occasionally, I get asked a question by one or two of the fun mosque guys about my faith. When that happens, I tend to share more about Jesus than about ‘Christianity’ as a formalized religion. This is a favorite time of the week for me, no question – sitting cross-legged there on the floor sipping hot tea with them,

“Fun.”