Jerry’s Reflections – Page 7 – Jerry Lout ⚬ Writer ⚬ Speaker ⚬ Mobilizer

March 23, 2023March 22, 2023

Serenity Road

Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time.

The phrase follows those widely-read first lines of the Serenity Prayer, “Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

That ‘living one day at a time’ thing lies, I think, at the heart of apprenticeship to Jesus. His disciples are common people who have chosen to set their day-by-day lives before him first thing every day. This is their aim and their practice. On some days the aim is not achieved. But the attentive Christ-follower has discovered that living in step with Jesus is the best possible thing one could ever do. Such a community of believers are not detoured by the occasional misstep. They routinely make peace with their own humanity and pick up the one-day-at-a-time rhythm at the sun’s fresh rising of the next day.

Heading into each morning in conscious companionship with Christ may seem like a small thing. It is not.

A truckload of mornings through the years found me emerging from sleep in a fog (sometimes caffeine helps there). But also at times a wave of anxiety or even panic has met me as I’ve contemplated what lay ahead in the coming hours. Not the ideal prescription for an unstressed life like that which Jesus prescribes. Indeed, that ‘easy yoke’ he invites his disciples to can often seem a distant and elusive dream. Can we ponder for a minute a scenario C.S. Lewis paints for us. Does anything resonate? Do we sense an invitation?

“It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind.”

If you yearn for the coming-in-out-of-the-wind kind of living, take heart. You and I can find encouragement and hope through a simple first step. By taking a thoughtful look at how Jesus likely got out of bed each day.

December 1, 2022December 1, 2022

Help En Route

Taking Jesus Christ as both our destination (our full human aim) and our with-God companion, we soon realize (or likely should) that our basic life focus really must change. To quote John the Baptizer, “He (Jesus) must increase, I must decrease.” After all, a Jesus-resemblance does not naturally spring forth through this jar of clay which God unflatteringly labels “dust”.

We ask God to lend a hand in training us to live as we are designed to live. He does better, not giving merely his hand but his entire self.

Here is how I think this “with-Jesus” living works.

First, he shows to us our need of getting rescued. Next he rescues us through sacrificially dying and then resurrecting. By this means Jesus has supplied us with something incalculable – forgiveness of all wrongs. All.

This is the start.

God now sets us on an entirely new path by which we along with others shall walk. Jesus shares with us his life and his kind of living here, now, in this broken world.

Also, quite amazingly, God introduces another element. He supplies a Helper – a living, empowering personal helper to aid us throughout. Holy Spirit (the Helper) moves into our lives.

Jesus makes clear that his gracious, all-powerful Holy Spirit is now among us to work mightily in shaping us to grow ever more like our master.

Under the Spirit’s empowering and in the guidance of God’s Word, the Bible, we proceed forward taking wonderful baby steps, in living as Jesus lives. Furthermore, we are helped at nearly every turn by other fellow disciples.

Do we tremble a little with fear? Are we uncertain of what our tomorrows hold? Surely.

Still, faith and love tug us forward. Confidence in him has taken root.

Family members – those other imperfect but forward-moving disciples – travel with us and we with them. We are indeed an imperfect, sometimes struggling company of persons. Some have employed the term, Ragamuffins. Our aim is Jesus.

We want above all else to be with Jesus and to grow to love like him – to give like him, and to laugh and to weep and to serve like him.

The one way this happens is in spending time with Jesus. Often simply one-on-one, but also with him in the presence of those “others” of his family. They need us. We need them.

Our coming to fully resemble who Jesus is in the world is no sprint.

But in the company of his grace we are set. We lean in.

October 30, 2017October 30, 2017

Small Steps

Kristi Yamaguchi – not your average Yankee name. But America’s Olympian gold medalist in figure skating nailed it for people of all cultures with her take on ‘small steps’.

I learned to put 100 percent into what I’m doing. I learned about setting goals for myself, knowing where I want to be and taking small steps toward those goals. I learned about adversity and how to get past it.

Kristi packs six insights into this mini-paragraph. Spot them?

I find thoughts like these serve as little appetizers. For myself. Of hope, of vision. They seem something like echoes – God-thoughts.

I’ll never cut dance rhythms across a skating rink – smiling now at an amusing image.

But giving 100 percent toward something of worth, setting some goals, knowing where I’d like to be or what I’d like to become, spotting adversity and getting beyond it. Something about such things feels inviting. It stirs something in me, doesn’t it you? God-thoughts within our grasp. Worthy dreams to realize – moving there, a small step at a time.

So I run with purpose in every step. I am not just shadowboxing 1 Corinthians 9:26

November 9, 2017

Say What?

Street-preaching in the 70’s with my college peeps on San Antonio’s Houston Avenue left me stumped one Sunday afternoon.

A well-groomed young fellow, perhaps a businessman, approached after being assailed with a volley of ‘repent and get saved’ appeals.

“Excuse me”, he said courteously, “would you mind if I ask a question?”

I nodded agreement.

“Why are you guys so cynical?”

Lacking the depth needed to respond well, along with a nagging awareness I had no real idea what the term ‘cynical’ meant, I went defensive. . .

“No, we’re not cynical, we’re just trying to show people. . .”

The lame defense that followed, along with this polite gent’s quiet departure afterwards, left me troubled. And wondering. Along with uncovering the meaning of ‘cynical’, I pondered a nagging thought that day, and many days after.

Can I find ways of sharing my faith other than just lobbing gospel missiles at passersby? What if these are real people, much like myself – folks who want to get through their day and through their lives – in basically one piece. Some of them likely exist in bare survival mode. And, for a great many – if they are anything – they are sincere.

I came to learn the word cynical suggests “a disbelief in the sincerity of human motives”. I’ve been asking the Lord to help me ever since, wishing I could dial back the calendar – sit with the young man over a cup of chai.

Street evangelism – Open-air campaigns – Stadium events. Historically, such varying means of outreach have brought spiritual orphans into God’s family by the thousands. May they never go away.

And may an alternate response to the one I got way back when, somehow come to be the norm. . .

“Why are you guys so caring?”

December 10, 2017December 10, 2017

Desire

Desire comes with being human.

The moment I launched as a newborn – right from the birth canal – I fought for air. Nothing going forward in life would ever trump the urgency of this one desire. Once my hunger for oxygen was met and my lungs were assured that there was more on the way, a second desire was born. I craved food.

And once I gulped in my first samplings of milk – catching it’s flavor and texture – my infant body had no problem calling for seconds. And anytime the beverage I craved for thereafter was out of reach, I knew it. No one needed to convince me. Like James Dashner wrote*.

“I felt her absence. It was like waking up one day with no teeth in your mouth. you wouldn’t need to run to the mirror to know they were gone”

I write this sitting in a bagel shop next to a couple making conversation.

“What would you say is your passion?” she asked.

The guy’s response sounded muffled due to the Christmas music streaming through my ear buds. That didn’t matter. Her question, though, did matter. It matters to us all, What would you say is your passion?

Of the many desires, hungers, passions that surface in our lives, none trumps something we might call the desire of the heart. We may come to know what it is our heart desires or we may not know.

But every heart desires one thing in common, a thing that is not tangible. Something deep. Grand and even eternal. What we so hunger is real – the most real thing ever – even though it could seem elusive.

We yearn for eternity. And the Being behind it. C. S. Lewis gives us an insight,

If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.

Desirables on this planet crowd the avenues of our lives, forming an endless parade. We feel the magnetic pull toward some attractions more than others. A few may inspire and energize us. We sample the object we’re drawn to and it feels right. An appetite, or desire, can carry such a pull that sensory language must be employed to capture its power. Athletes savor the taste of victory or suffer a bitter defeat.

My Norwegian friend, Oddvar Naustvik found a stirring of desire and nurtured it. Oddvar wanted to successfully compete in an iron-man triathlon.

Another friend, Robello Samuel of India, pursued his desire – to gain expertise in the field of drilling wells.

From the time Cody Stinnett could tap his foot to the rhythm of music he yearned to excel as a percussionist.

Still another friend, young Elizabeth Miles, longed to tackle and master a language.

Each desire is lofty, some even noble. How attractive still is the hungering after ‘another world’, as Lewis suggests. The world for which we’re most rightly suited.

Such desire is withheld from noone. Curious thought. The sensory language of scripture invites,

Taste and see.

January 16, 2018February 13, 2018

Observing

Observe

Watching my Suzuki dirt bike hoisted onto a wobbling, home-built canoe at the edge of a flooded river, gave me pause. Did I make a smart move?

My unsettled mind calmed the next few minutes as the two tribal men skillfully executed their self-assigned duties. I looked on in growing admiration.

These fellas know a thing or two about rivers. And of cargo management for home-built canoes.

The reflection in my head took form after I witnessed a donkey traversing those waters under the young men’s management, emerging at the opposite shore, her hee-haw still intact.

In a similar way I’ve found it often only takes a little observing to appreciate praiseworthy qualities in people – their dispositions, skill sets, personalities, their manner.

In this respect, Jesus has become my favorite subject in people-watching.

Indeed, he himself – this son of a blue-collar worker growing up in an unexceptional middle-eastern village – honed his own set of observing skills. Sharpening them as keenly as he did the carpentry tool finding its home in his saw-dust-sprinkled grip.

Engage

“Here, Yeshua, see how we mark the place just this side of the knot hole? This is where we cut the plank. Now, watch closely where I position the saw. . .” Papa Joseph patiently tutored the youngster, modelling for him the carpentry craft.

To excel at a thing – to move little by little into expertise – any person ever trained in a skill knows the drill.

Watch (observe) the trainer, listening, paying attention as they do their work
Imitate the manner and movements of the mentor while he looks on, coaches, corrects
Do the work – produce ‘fruit’ reflecting the quality of the master’s own workmanship and of his character

Jesus did this. Jesus trained his friends while adopting for himself role of trainee. Remarkable, really. The writer of Hebrews offers a pithy insight about Jesus, “He learned.”

Paul the apostle followed suit, the Damascus-road convert boldly recruiting others to ‘board his gospel canoe’:

“Follow me as I follow Christ.”

Become

I want to become like Jesus.

Through the years the yearning has ebbed and flowed in my deep interior.

Not in me alone. The cry is common to Christ-followers all around. Common because nothing else slakes our thirst for meaning. A cry because, at the core, this is our design. We are made for it – for apprenticeship to Jesus. Made to be formed into a likeness very much resembling him. In character. In life.

How does such a life-altering enterprise get underway?

My boyhood days growing up on a farm stirs a thought.

January 24, 2018February 13, 2018

Invitation

The membrane-cloaked calf lay still from exhaustion on the dew-soaked Bermuda grass. The little bull had, the past few seconds with the gallant aid of his mama, thrust his way outward from her womb and into Autumn’s sharp early-morning air.

Wanting to grow to be like Jesus comes naturally for any born-anew believer. It is as natural a thing as conception – gestation – birthing and maturing are natural to reproductive life.

The progression, in fact, sounds normal. That is because it is normal. The thing that does not come naturally (automatically) for the believer, though, is the actual doing it. . . becoming like Jesus. At least not for a good while. Not for most.

Transformation to Christlikeness, however, is not unrealistic. Nor is it such a hard thing to make headway in. The issue that makes growing into the likeness of Jesus most difficult is likely our simple lack of know-how. This had been true for me, no question. I wanted change like crazy. Make me like you, Jesus. I just didn’t know how to start getting there.

Reflective musings

So, moving from being a ‘not-much-like-Jesus’ person to becoming very much like him. Are there ways to go about this, ways to understand how? Can there be things, we press the matter further, “hands-on, practical things – I could learn to do? Could do together with Him, leading me to pleasurable rhythms of Christ’s joy, his love, service, character and life. . . For real? That I could grow to live in that curious easy yoke he seemed to matter-of-factly invite us to?”

Easy yoke? The easy had eluded me. And for quite a long time. How could I start, where to begin?

The birthing language helps me get a handle on something.

“Oh, my dear children!” Paul writes. “I feel as if I’m going through labor pains for you again, and they will continue until Christ is fully developed in your lives” (Galatians 4.19 NLT)

The fellow credited for writing much of the New Testament uses here the birthing metaphor to help us catch the idea of God’s means of bringing the change we yearn after. We catch a feeling too for how passionately the Holy Spirit wishes this for us. Labor pains. We can’t help getting the feeling he really means it. Christ – radically developing us, reproducing his nature and character within our lives. Freely. Easily. . . Remarkable.

For a good while – decades actually – I struggled over this thing. A discussion, mostly silent, went on in my head and my heart.

Once a person is saved, brought to faith in Christ, a new beginning has launched, right.

The believer isn’t born into the family of faith to stay an infant. We are born to develop, to grow in the faith, to mature, be transformed. We are to get better at being a Christian. This is what he is saying, what he is after.

Every child of God, every one of us, is handed the oxygen-charged assignment. To change. And, what is more, sliding our neck into an easy yoke with Jesus us sounds more like an invitation to dance than to trudge forward under a burdensome, ever-crushing load. What if Jesus is approaching. Offering his hand, extending a question.

May I have this dance?

February 6, 2018February 13, 2018

Summit Destiny

While the dance idea may suit some believers as they launch into a transforming life in Jesus, the metaphor likely won’t attract others. A mountain-climbing expedition may. The apprenticing pilgrim takes on a rigorous life if he is seriously chasing the call of Jesus: Follow me.

More rigorous than a climber striking out for, say, Africa’s highest mountain peak. Our family lived and served among the Chaga people in the foothills of the majestic mammoth.

School break had set in for our two oldest. “Shall we give Kili a try?”

What parent adopts a fairy-tale voice and launches into a children’s story (the Little Red Choo-choo Train) for a teenaged son or daughter? In a public setting, no less.

Maybe it can inspire them to go the full distance (Kilimanjaro’s 19,000-foot summit) once we set out from this base camp. As the fairy-tale unfolded, fourteen-year-old Scott lazered his attention to a hiking boot as if the world’s survival depended on his rightly adjusting a small stone beneath it. Anything to distance his association with the backpack-laden man prattling on with “I think I can, I think I can. . .” Julie, two years his senior, simply rolled her eyes.

The truth was, we were in for the most daunting test of our stamina and will we had ever faced.

Hiking miles upward to Africa’s loftiest point, with its scarce oxygen and precarious steeps, calls for all the reserves a climber can summons. Reaching Kili’s snowy rim demands three things. Vision, intention and means.

A brilliant and beloved U.S.C. professor and gospel minister, Dallas Willard, strung this trio of nouns – Vision, Intention, Means – together when coaching Christ-followers toward best practices in their quest to become like Jesus. Willard often used the word apprentice when speaking of a disciple.

“An apprentice of Jesus is learning from him how to lead their life as he would lead their life if he were they.”

My own long and incompleted walk towards transformation into Christlikeness – winding trails (often upward, at other times plateaued, even descending) – stirs added memories from the 1989 Kilimanjaro venture. Our little trio in the company of our guide.

The climb would have met with failure but for our guide.

February 14, 2018February 14, 2018

Consulting The Guide

August, 1988. . .

Really? I couldn’t believe the signatures facing me from the entry roster. Him? Really?

“Hey guys, look over here. Guess who beat us up the mountain ten days ago. . . a president of the United States!” My two teens, their backpacks secured in place, sidled over.

Some twenty names, including family members, were all penned vividly in artful hand-written cursive, clearly by one person. . . a scribe representing the entourage, no doubt.

A further surprise came later in the day as I chatted up our guide.

“Joseph,” I asked, “I noticed back there that a United States President went up the mountain a few days ago.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“That’s Interesting. Were you one of the porters or guides for the climb?”

“Yes, sir.

“Well – if I could ask – what was it like, that trip?”

“Ah”, Joseph smiled broadly. We had paused on the trail to take a swig from our canteens. “It was a very good trip”. The guide’s face brightened further. “Yes, a good trip, even though the president almost refused to succeed. He did reach there, though. Up to the mountain’s top.”

Joseph’s voice now took on a deepened tone of pride (well-placed, I afterward thought).

“You know, we carried him there.”

“Carried him? You carried the president?”

“Ah, yes. You see, once we reached to a quite high place he was very tired and lacking strength. He told the group to go on and continue. He said he would go back down the mountain for he could not continue on.” Joseph swiveled to gaze toward the summit, many kilometers far ahead and far higher.

“But we told him ‘no’. We Guides, we said to him he must reach to the top, he must get there. So two of us came to where he was. Together we lifted him. We carried him on to the top.”

Assuming the guide’s account was accurate, the past president – raised in the deep south and now well into his sixties – had found himself perched atop the roof of Africa. In good hands. Literally.

The image in my mind of mountain guides bearing their distinctive human cargo along Kilimanjaro’s steepest slopes called to mind a beloved piece of popular verse. Adorning the walls of gift shops from Disney World to Branson, Missouri – Footprints in the Sand.

My mind goes to the spiritual trek any sincere believer embarks on.

While it is true there are times we are unable to lift a trace of our own shoe leather in making headway on our march of faith, our call from him, our invitation is to walk. Not walk apart from him, to be sure. As Bob Sorge states it in The Secret of Walking With God, “God created man for the enjoyment of a walking relationship that involved companionship, dialogue, intimacy, joint decision-making, mutual delight, and shared dominion.”

And here is the rub. I am called to sonship in Christ, called to know him. Know him more and more, by walking with him.

So how? Just how does this happen in actual, realistic ways?

A visit with the one we call our guide, along with a few of his early spokesmen as their words reach to us from scripture, helped shed some light on the big question, How?

March 24, 2018March 27, 2018

Follow

For years my faith was out of sorts. Not that it lacked truth. Or strength. Or substance (though this could be a subject for another day).

My faith bobbled and wobbled from a lack of understanding how it was meant to be applied. . . or not applied. Especially where actual life formation was concerned. How I was meant to grow – tools to move me there – actual steps to Christlikeness.

A car-towing venture in Africa during the ‘60s might illustrate (a blog entry at this site labeled Drag Race, relates the drama in full).

Two men. Two cars. One of the vehicles, a Jeep, has its engine running. It’s towing the other – a disabled Volkswagen Beetle.

All went well until, navigating a long, downhill slope of dirt road, the less-seasoned Beetle driver – his car gaining speed – elected to pass the Jeep. Yes, to move in front of the lead car. . . Tow rope secure, in place.

His act was not one of the better options open to him. The driver was abruptly schooled in a basic principle. The tow rope would prove a friend as long as its use was rightly applied.

In my hopes of maturing in areas of Christlikeness I failed (like the VW pilot) to position myself rightly in relation to my leader.

It is the wise Jesus-follower who keeps the Rabbi’s sandal-prints in view. Simply moving forward as apprentice-in-training, eyeing the master, taking signals from him. Rather than the alternative – charging. . . or meandering [the speed doesn’t seem to matter] – off independently.

Actions taken in the hope of life transformation fall to two categories. Dallas Willard offers one of them as the clear choice, stating that effective life-change for the good rests on this critical approach – Training vs Trying.

Like the poor, distracted driver, I’ve spent a lot of my energy trying to keep myself aright, often inattentive to a useful point. The fellow in the lead has a better view of the landscape, holds the necessary power at his disposal, and knows just where we’re headed.

Entrusting my understanding to his recommended way – the power needed supplied in full and within easy reach – I might enter a more hopeful process. Not apart from effort, to be sure, this further journey into his likeness. But surprisingly effective, richly hopeful and actually less labor-intensive. In the Rabbi’s language – an easy yoke.

I was at last entering a means that may help me avoid the wrong use of my lifeline, sparing my ‘mobility’ being toppled sideways in the dust.

The rabbi-teacher inviting me to a better means.

“A more excellent way” – 1 Corinthians 12:31