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June 20, 2024

Steps Forward

Sensing that another of life’s thresholds lay ahead for me – one of greater bearing than others – I texted my pastor, requesting a visit.

Not long after his ‘dumpster dive’ narrative (the lone part of the sermon I recall from that Sunday morning), Roger had begun laying the groundwork for a twelve-step venture fitting a specific niche of persons. Men serving in Christian ministry.

A Step program had already been serving our faith community for some time, yielding some beautiful fruit along the way. Through Bible-centered curricula facilitated by a compassionate, Christ-loving husband/wife team, Jim and Pam, a number of souls had – for their first time ever – drunk from springs of undiluted hope. The program, by now widely available and spreading, carried the label Celebrate Recovery (‘CR’).

Enter Roger, a “man the cloth”, who inserted a third letter, sandwiched between the C and the R. The result – a kind of hybrid version nicknamed ‘C.P.R.’ – the ‘P’ loosely representing the term ‘Pastor’.

Imagine. A recovery program concerned with hurts, habits and hangups of preachers, pastors, missionaries, youth ministers and the like. Remarkably (or not so remarkably), Roger’s CPR groups – the first followed by another, then another – never lacked for signups.

In a study spanning a recent calendar year Barna Research noted that 42 percent of pastors had considered leaving full-time ministry. While a combination of factors can give rise to such troubling data, a common theme has surfaced. A high number of leaders in the Lord’s work suffer from a sense of isolation.

Yet, men (vocational churchmen included) connecting routinely with other men in honest, redemptive dialogue are finding themselves ushered into a place of oxygen. A doorway of hope starts opening. Wounds get disclosed. Fears and hiddenness get unveiled. Healing enters. Recovery comes.

Jesus occupies such settings. Men know the empowering presence, in the company of friends. This became my story and remains so today.

By the time of my first interactive session with a CPR band of brothers, much water had passed beneath the proverbial bridge. Some with murky currents indeed. Here, in time, I would muster adequate courage to bring to light the account of a sexual assault, of unsavory influences, and a history of associated brokenness.

I was a child when *Lawrence took advantage. Hiddenness – my behavior default – had kept the incident sealed for beyond six decades.

I would learn afresh that from God there issues love that, as the hymn writer worded it, will not let me go.

June 13, 2024June 12, 2024

Silent Treatment

“Is he going there?” I thought. “Are there men here in the Sunday gathering (myself included) poised in this moment to witness the unveiling of a familiar elephant in the room?”

As with fingers at a dimmer switch, the pastor was advancing the dial. In the moments following, Roger sensitively and with great compassion teamed with the Holy Spirit in lifting the lights. Illumining a pathway in the recesses of some troubled minds.

A while back I had glimpsed a flicker of hope through my counsellor-friend Steve. He had graciously labored to assure me that I was not alone, that I did not have a corner on struggles over impure thoughts and lust. Now, taking in today’s account of a fellow brother in the faith – of his struggles and his ongoing pilgrimage into wholeness – I sensed a rare, near-tangible assurance . Could far better days lie ahead?

The era of my growing-up years – the 1950s and 60s – were those in the cultural landscape marked by imperfect ideals and role models, like the ‘strong, silent male’.

While the ‘strong’ piece of that phrase might have been in question concerning some, the ‘silent’ ingredient among men was often palpable.

It might have been normal to wax eloquent over Gurnsey prices down at the local livestock yard or contesting the preferred mode of transport (Chevy vs Ford), or debating which team in a league would make the World Series cut. But confiding about personal topics – struggles over addictive behaviors and so forth – was a practice entered into rarely indeed.

Thus, I had deduced from a young age, it was best keeping my personal concerns – disturbing as some might be – close to my chest. Better to trudge forward in the company of secrets than of shame.

June 6, 2024June 5, 2024

Dumpster Dive

Wherever you go, there you are.

The adage packs a punch.

When a person relocates (whether across town or time zones) he encounters a lot of “New”. Things about the place are simply different. New. The person himself, however – the relocated individual – has for the most part typically changed only a little, if at all. A hairstyle might alter, a wardrobe get tweaked, but the actual person at the core stays the same. We don’t get to don a sudden new-and-improved set of character traits in the way we might spring for an upgrade in workout sweats.

I had long ago ventured from Okmulgee County for employment in Cody, Wyoming. Afterward, accompanied by my young bride, I took up residence in far-off Africa. Decades later here I was, having landed on the campus of a local university. Still, the fact remained. In each instance I had brought “myself with me”. Jerry Lout – my cultural and character baggage (healthy and otherwise) moving about day by day in shoe leather.

But the tidewaters were about to change.

The routine Sunday morning found Ann and me at our usual place of worship. We had moved to a new church and had come to sense that we were home.

Stepping to the pulpit, Pastor Roger began his sermon. Minutes in, a delicate story of self-disclosure unfolded. This I had not expected, nor would have envisioned being shared within a Sunday morning sanctuary venue. Vulnerably but sensitively conveyed, the earthy account set a spark of hope flickering within me. For myself, a good serving of hope seemed overdue.

“Back when I was a teenaged kid in my hometown”, Roger began, “a buddy and I one day decided to go dumpster-diving. We came upon a Playboy magazine”.

The audience leaned in.

May 30, 2024

Company Of Friends

Cradling the lifeless form of their newborn daughter, the couple could hardly contain their sorrow. Nothing fully prepares expectant parents for the trauma of losing the precious infant whose arrival had been joyously anticipated through the long months prior.

They were young in the Christian faith, and their shattered hearts needed all the mending “the God of all comfort” might bring.

Comfort them he did. Not in a magic display of immediate relief absent of future tears and void of sorrow surges that can erupt without a moment’s notice. Rather through the companioning presence of One who (though intimately acquainted with grief) embodies the singular kind of hope that “springs eternal”.

To the husband and wife and their young son, a handful of friends, American and international, remained available in respectful but easy reach. In the fortifying strength of intercessory prayer, the small band of the faith community supplied them with the embodied presence of the Lord of Life. Verbal expressions were rarely voiced. They were seldom needed. There are settings where Presence alone speaks volumes.

To the wonder of many – believers and non-believers alike who had filed into the sanctuary for the little one’s memorial service – the young father offered up tender expressions of gratitude to God the Father. Though weary with grief, our gentle=mannered friend, hailing from a land far away, had drunk from waters of grace issuing from the risen Christ.

From their shadowland valley, the family moved forward day by day, drawing often upon the Lord’s peace, his immutable Word, and a company of friends.

May 23, 2024May 22, 2024

Not Alone

The art of love is largely the art of persistence, says Albert Ellis.

The level of persistence marking English-Corner Volunteer Jeremy, yielded up both natural and spiritual fruit for his international friend.

Reading and gossiping Lewis’ Narnia allegories together, week after week, flipped the switch to the proverbial light bulb of Nguyen’s mind and heart. The roots of conversion to faith in Christ promised to run deep from early on. The engineer scholar, together with his sweet wife, soon shifted their postures from spectator to all out players in the adventure of a vibrant faith.

“If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” Quotes such as this one uttered by Isaac Newton provoke mild envy (why hadn’t I said that?). One of Nguyen’s “friendly giants” was Tran.

The Tran family had years ago fled to America as refugees. Received by a loving Christian community in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma they gained first hand witness of the nature of Jesus lived out. The Tran family wholly embraced the gospel as Christ found a home in their hearts. So transformed by love, the household wasted no time throwing open the gates of their own hearts and home in Christian hospitality. (Tran family meet the Nguyens.)

Faith was never meant to be done alone. I first heard the phrase from Youth Pastor Jason Jackson. Attentive observers tend to marvel when seeing the pithy adage played out in real life.

Added players in the kingdom – common local folks yielding to Spirit-promptings – linked up with the Nguyen family. Beau and Mary Ann, Vicky, Debbie, Jeremy, Ken and Karen and others. Each adding a crucial link.

When heartbreak struck (that familiar occurrence in a fractured world) a small band of friends was in place to help cushion the blow. The Nguyens would not be going it alone.

May 16, 2024May 15, 2024

An Allegory

Jeremy and Nguyen first connected at English Corner. The E.C. term grew out of a phenomenon long ago in urban China. When locals discovered spots either in a city center or on a school campus where the English language could be heard and practiced without formality. The Winfreys (Ken and Karen) launched English Corner at our local university. They stewarded it year after year, Wednesday nights, seeing droves of students (mostly new and mostly shy on their first visits) flourish in both English skills and cultural relationships.

“Could I introduce you to a collection of popular readings? A lot of people in our culture have grown to enjoy them through the years. A British professor who taught at both Cambridge and Oxford Universities produced the series.

“They are fantasy stories and the writings pull a lot of narratives together in a seven-volume adventure series.”

With this, Jeremy, a gentle soul and committed volunteer, set the stage for conversational practice for Nguyen for months to come. Nguyen, a family man (wife and young son), though inundated with doctoral studies, was keen for staying engaged.

In due time through the course of their readings, the alluring draw of a centerpiece figure in the readings – a fierce but benevolent lion presented in allegory – captured the student’s imagination. Discussions linking meaningful principles featured in the fictional narratives with a range of Biblical truths gave rise to further heart stirrings. Nguyen soon yielded over – heart and soul, body and mind. Embracing a sure faith issuing out of the life and work of Jesus Nguyen crossed the threshold of belief and never looked back.

Shortly his wife followed suit. The glow of salvation beamed bright over their young lives. The Nguyen household were enveloped and nurtured in a community of love comprised of local area Jesus-followers of varied denominational stripes.

These were times of growing, of anchoring the soul secure – ahead of gathering storms.

May 9, 2024

Poised

Mr. Tang’s baptism was warmly celebrated at our Thirty-fourth and Garnett Rd Church. Pastor Steve Morgan administering the sacred rite. The sacrament affirmed, as for so many others across the centuries, evidence of a brand new identity. Mr. Tang was a reborn creation, his old life yielded up in exchange for his new life of Christ within.

How wonderful of the Lord, bringing a precious man with essentially no knowledge of Jesus from the far side of the globe to this place – in this time – for this purpose.

People are different from one another. An understatement. In each of our world’s seven-billion-plus souls, there is written a unique human story. And, while every story varies, all our journeys pulse with deep yearnings. Amazingly, the Designer God who formed us can meet us where we are – poised and ready to lead us toward himself. Some of our personal narratives may feature, as with Mr. Tang, a case of disentangling from chemical substances. Step by slow step our transformation gains traction. We may suffer setbacks. He is faithful still.

For others, the prevailing vice is the obsessive drive to excel in education or business. Human beings have a notorious capacity for succumbing to hard-driving taskmasters.

Our friend, Nguyen, from Southeast Asia pursued a common aim in the world of higher education, to advance as a leading scholar in his chosen field.

One evening at the student activities center an English conversation volunteer introduced Nguyen to a series of fantasy pieces. One of these featured a wardrobe and a lion and a witch. Nguyen’s own narrative was poised to turn a corner.

May 2, 2024

Crossings

When Mr. Tang joined our luncheon Bible study, he was met with welcoming smiles. Before our weekly sessions would draw to a close, Host Cathy would give opportunity for voicing prayer needs. A few weeks in, Mr. Tang politely raised his hand.

“I wish to have you pray, please. I have been smoking cigarettes for a long time and I have tried to stop the habit many times but with no success. Can you pray for this?”

“Certainly,” Cathy smiled.

A few weeks passed. Again, Mr. Tang’s raised hand.

“I just want to say that from the day of praying about my smoking problem, I have not wanted a cigarette and I have not smoked one since.” Once more smiles met him – this time in happy celebration.

The journey into faith takes as many routes as there are disciples trekking them. Each story unique.

For Mr. Tang – the thoughtful scholar who had competed with his daughter over a picture-story Bible – his narrative continued unfolding, step by gentle step.

“I’m glad you could come, Tang.”

The doctoral student was attentive as he sat with Ann and me, taking in our Sunday morning worship service. The preaching message highlighted God’s servant Joshua leading his people across the Jordan River into the Promised Land. At the close, Pastor Morgan extended an invitation,

“If anyone might be at a place where you sense you are ready to venture into new territory – a new place in your life in God, we welcome you to just come to the front area here for prayer. Jesus Christ will meet you today. God will lead you forward.”

Sensing Christ at work as Mr. Tang moved toward the aisle, I followed him forward. There in the Lord’s house, a quiet setting void of fanfare, I was privileged to lead my friend in a simple prayer as he offered himself to God. A formidable divide was breached.

When the service ended and we had made our way to the lobby, Mr. Tang slowed and turned my way.

“Jerry, when we were there at the front and praying, I felt something. It felt like. . .” He paused to find expression. I never forgot his words – fitting language for a science major, I afterward mused,

“It was like liquid electricity coming into my head and flowing down through my whole body”.

I sensed the sacredness in his tone. We lingered a moment in silence. There was nothing to add.

April 25, 2024April 24, 2024

Taste Sampler

Puzzling or Amusing, which is it? Both perhaps. . .

Cross-cultural workers meet up with any number of puzzlements, leaving one off balance enough to keep the journey intriguing.

The slight-of-body PhD scholar smiled sheepishly as he related a kind of tug-of-war he was in with their nine-year-old daughter.

“Jerry, you know that Bible for children, the one with many pictures that you gave us?”

Noting my nod, Mr. Tang went on. . .

“Well, my daughter and I, we fight over it. She finds the book very interesting, and so do I! So, when she is reading it, I want to read it, and also the other way around.”

For those like me, not raised in a society where the world’s most popular (international best-seller-book ever) is virtually a banned product, the reaction is astonishment.

It is remarkable really. How could a brilliant scholar with multiple degrees to his name find such a widespread piece of famous literature nearly inaccessible?

The entrance of your word gives light*

At Mr. Tang’s tug-of-war description, I couldn’t help smile. The mental image of a distinguished petroleum engineer husband and father pitted in a feisty back-and-forth with his fourth-grade daughter over the Holy Bible. Amusing to be sure. Yet, moments later the weightier, more sobering implication settled in.

Here is nine-year-old Angie, brought by her warm-hearted and, yes, atheist parents to the Land of the Free.

Angie (perhaps from simple curiosity at this point) yearns to take in the stories of God and Jesus. This, while her mother and father – grappling with the thousand adjustments called for in adapting to a new land and culture – carry their own yearnings. Daddy himself nurtures an appetite of some kind or other sufficient to sneak in bits of Bible reading during moments when his daughter isn’t on guard.

Can this household – others as well – be gently introduced to further samplings of the life-giving Word? Lead us, Father.

April 18, 2024April 17, 2024

Eventful Venue

“There! That should do it.

Sigh”.

Word-smithing a workable mission statement can be a daunting venture. While, in our case it surely was, we felt gratified in the outcome. The Lord’s fingerprint seemed present. This was humbling.

So, by now most of our official-sounding boxes had gotten ticked. Yay. . .

Register as a campus organization, Tick. Recruit faculty advisor, Tick. Secure Photo I.D. etc. Tick. Do the Non-profit 501©3 Thing, Tick. Set in place a governing Board (lots of prayer invested on that one!) Tick.

Our residential move into Tulsa County meant a fresh schooling adventure for ten-year-old Amy. Not the easiest transition, since her growing up years till now had passed in far off East African. It was amazing – to her credit and God’s – that the many topsy-turvy upside-down experiences Amy underwent throughout the seasons of adolescence, the teens and young woman-hood left her reasonably unscathed.

The sprawling Haikey Creek Park lay a short distance from our home and served as a kind of therapy-session zone for the three of us. I had come to realize that I was way over my head in the parenting-skills department. Perhaps, especially here in America. The Lord’s mercies graciously brought us all through these seasons. My wonderful third-born proved herself nearly super-human in resilience. . . and in forgiveness toward her rather often dysfunctional dad.

Haikey Creek Park – its acreage playing host to a host of pecan trees – gained added notoriety in our family circle when Amy’s big brother started making wedding plans with his bride-to-be, Sarah.

In time, the Rehearsal Dinner topic was broached.

“Dad”, our M.K. son began, “could you find us a goat to barbeque?”