Blog

Posted on

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?”

©2024 Jerry Lout

Posted on

Stated Intent

A brilliant and beloved Southern California professor was fond of urging his fellow believers to live life on purpose, employing principles which he dubbed VIM.

Those lives that bear the marks of wholeness and flourishing for the good, Dallas Willard contended, tend to stem from persons who have firmly embraced Vision (the first letter of the acronym).

Alongside Vision come Intention and Means. Our infant ministry on the Tulsa campus – testing its wobbly legs with gangly stops and starts that are common to the very young – had started hammering out our Intention piece.

Just what were we sensing that God actually wanted? What would bring a ready smile to his magnificent countenance?

Jim Garton and I set out to give it our best in crafting a mission statement. It was clear that International Student Ministries needed one.

What shall we count as ISM’s Intention (the aim or aims that could be counted on to mark us and keep us grounded and focused through coming years). While we understood that a mission purpose can be tweaked and that often the best of aims can meet with course corrections, we felt daily the gravity of this assignment. It weighed on us.

At long last, with a lot of needed grace from above, we landed the plane.

The stated purpose carried two crucial features, neither of which could be realized apart from the other. Students needed to be able to enjoy the assurance that they are genuinely welcomed and cared about. Relationship must be key, with Christ’s tangible love and presence the heartbeat of it all.

The team’s next newsletter to be rolled out would herald our reason for being. Our Intention:

International Community Outreach exists to glorify God by meeting practical and spiritual needs of international students, through acts of service and through the proclamation of the gospel of Christ.

With our stated mission now in place, all that remained was to live it out!

This was to take some doing.

©2024 Jerry Lout

Posted on

Overflow

 

Turning onto Xanthus Ave that Thursday evening, I glanced at my watch. “How will this go? Who will show up? Will I be on my game (whatever that means)?

The young lady of last night’s call had suggested the newly-arrived grad students I was preparing to meet were open to learn something of the story of Jesus. “Had any of these scholarly young men ever seen a Bible?”, I wondered, Influenced and shaped as they likely were by their homeland’s official doctrine of atheism.

 A niggling question played at my own conscience, “How mindful am I of Jesus Christ in the course of my routine days?”

Dialing back the musings, I eased the car along the curb before the Jesus Inn. Minutes later I was settling into easy introductions and conversations with our new arrivals. The easy part was much to the credit of Weili, her cheery personality mitigating any sense of awkwardness. “At last,” I thought, smiling, “we have a face to go with that sing-song voice from the phone visit!”

That first evening at Jesus Inn – engaging, laughing with, welcoming the newcomers – served as a treasured early catalyst for us at the university. Propelling the ministry forward slow-motion, as we inched our way to becoming a truly transcultural family. We (students, volunteers, friendship partners) could with God’s help, steward a faith culture flowering in deep-hearted care, engaging throughout in meaningful acts of service.

Now – three decades in – the miracle of good seed planted, and of lives yet being changed for the good, stands as evidence that any misgivings or nail-biting angst earlier on were mere distractions. Several of the Jesus-Inn graduate students with their specialties (geology – information technology – petroleum) have proceeded wonderfully forward, bearing fruit within their fresh-discovered faith.

Issuing from the overflow of a young lady’s renovated heart.

©2024 Jerry Lout

Posted on

A Pulsing Contagion

“Hi Jerry! I’m Weili!”

The cheery voice streamed from the phone. Her accent had the musical lilt of a young Far Easterner, which clearly pulsed with excited urgency.

“I have just recently come to Tulsa from California where I have been studying at a university.”

It’s always a refreshing sound, a cheery voice at the opposite end of a telephone line. Weili caught me a little off guard with her next words – strung together with enthusiasm – high speed.

“Jerry, I am a Christian. I met the Lord there in California. Now I’ve heard about the work you are doing here in Tulsa, and I have a request!”  She continued with barely a pause,

“Please come to the Jesus Inn tomorrow night. Bring your guitar! Several new grad-student guys just arrived from my country, and you can sing some songs and tell them about Jesus!”

I smiled at the spunk of this girl I had never met, Somehow she knows of our presence on campus and that I plunk guitar strings now and then. Adding to the mix, I mused, Weili seems a young lady overflowing with boundless joy, and a heart just bursting with evangelistic fervor.

Her spirit (all that I really had to go on) sparked inside me both an element of intrigue and a sense of adventure. Her child-like eagerness felt contagious. Who could not like this person? I thought with a smile.

Finally she paused, making room for a response.

“Well, Okay Weili, If it’s alright with the Jesus Inn folks, I’ll see you there.”

The ‘Inn’ – a string of aged houses lining a stretch of city block near the campus – had gotten launched as an in-residence place offering help and hope to a young generation back in the 1960s. Gordon and Susan Wright, along with ‘recovered-and-in-recovery’ volunteers – together with the Wright’s own children – had long stewarded the unconventional space.

To a long parade of the homeless, the hippied and the bedraggled – from lost and afraid flower children to strung-out , disillusioned druggies – the Jesus Inn became a haven of refuge. A place of hope.

“Lord”, I whispered the next evening as I gathered Bible and guitar and headed out the door, “please meet us, please guide.”

©2024 Jerry Lout

 

Posted on

Anchoring In

“The two of us were hippies during the sixties, but not so much of the drug and partying kind, although we did get into that as well. . .”

My new acquaintance Jim was – between his sips of hot tea – offering me a glimpse into his and his wife’s former pilgrimage.

“Ilah and I were really in our hearts on a quest, but for just what we didn’t know. Experimenting with eastern religions, delving into philosophy and the like. Looking back now, it’s clear we thirsted for meaning. We wanted to know what was real. We were sincere in our seeking.”

The conversation marked the beginning, for Ann and me, a long friendship with Jim and Ilah Garton.

As our visits increased, Jim and I recognized a thread of shared interest – the nurturing of cross-cultural friendships within the world of academia. For the Gartons, the interest had evolved through their growing closeness with Christ.

Once their longtime yearnings for meaning got met by a newfound faith, they immersed themselves in a grounded Christian community.

With university training behind them and the birth of son Joshua, Jim and Ilah set their sights on the land of China.  After some years teaching English as a second language, they returned to their American homeland where Jim then specialized in work serving non-profits. It was then that  the Garton-and-Lout pathways crossed.

“Coincidences are God’s way of remaining anonymous”. Albert Einstein may have been onto something when he uttered the terse remark.

Those who have ever ventured into an authentic faith journey ‘by the seat of the pants’ can readily attest, there is no adventure just quite like it.

With the aid of Jim’s astute strategizing mind and our combined boatload of prayers, we witnessed the birth of a Tulsa-based ministry – a 501©3 Non-profit – crowning it,  International Community Outreach.

In time, with plenty of tweaks and rewrites, we hammered out I.C.O.’s Mission Statement. This declared aim to which we felt the Lord calling us grew to characterize the work for years to come.

International Community Outreach exists to glorify God by meeting practical and spiritual needs of international students through acts of service and through the proclamation of the gospel of Christ.

Still, we knew little of what we were doing. The praying continued.

©2024 Jerry Lout

 

Posted on

In Other Words

For the college student suddenly thrust into the streams of an unfamiliar location and culture, it can feel like a whitewater rafter battling turbulence along a Category Five canyon. Sympathetic voices of those who have traversed such currents ahead of them can prove priceless. In the language of Clinical Psychologist Wilson Van Dusen, “Perhaps the most important skill that should be taught to all persons is the capacity to really see, hear, and understand others.”

Such nerve-calming figures might arrive on the scene as volunteers who had previously served in missions service or other cross-cultural vocations. Indeed, lessons gleaned from such informal coaches can sometimes translate to things of life and death! How lucky was I as a twenties-something arrival to Africa, having locals on the ground orient me to new ways of thinking and acting within a different context. Navigating a car along a bustling corridor on the ‘wrong side’ of the road while, poised at a steering wheel affixed to the wrong side of the vehicle carries the potential of posing a risk! Contrasting roadway differences of the American and the British landscape give rise to humorous – and terrifying – tales.

The task of orienting our new international students did not just fall to American welcomers. To our real pleasure, a student or two from abroad – who had by now stacked up some cultural mileage in adapting to Tulsa life – sometimes showed up to lend aid.

“Remember this point. . .” The university upperclassman from Hong Kong paused a moment for emphasis as she served up nuggets of wisdom to a handful of new arrivals. . . “Keep it in mind, that words displayed on a sign along a sidewalk do not always mean what you might think”.

“When you see a sign along a city street announcing SUBWAY, please do not look for stairways leading you underground. No” (here she raised both arms toward an imaginary placard), “it is only a sandwich shop”.

© 2024 Jerry Lout

Posted on

Timely Provision

“Jerry, you will need a Faculty Advisor”.

I had begun ticking whatever boxes needed ticking, in the effort to comply with university protocol for registering a viable campus student organization. The entity we would formalize, it was decided, would bear the label, International Student Ministries.

As things evolved in our quest for birthing, by God’s grace, a vital spiritual presence among female and male students from across the world, a professor’s name emerged on our radar. What if our faculty-advisor-to-be were right this moment moving from classroom to lab over in ‘Keplinger’ – the facility housing the College of Engineering?

Jerry McCoy, a bona fide son of the Sooner State, had grown up in the shadow of the University of Tulsa where his father had taught before him. With a keen aptitude for the sciences, Jerry then studied at TU, and afterwards taking up an assignment as Professor of Physics.

Beyond the credentials and his status as an admired faculty member, Professor McCoy carried sure marks on and off campus of a devoted Christ-follower.

The day Jerry accepted the invitation to advisership marked one of ISM’s best moments!

A serendipitous sidebar played out in time, giving rise to smiles in the Lout/McCoy households. Jerry and Jerry in the service of a common ministry. . . Spouses Anne and Ann, each happy mothers of an ‘Amy’. . . both Amys working concurrently as coffee house baristas!

Occasional catch-up times between Professor McCoy and I affirmed our regard for student ministry, while deepening our friendship in a long obedience in the same direction*.

©2024 Jerry Lout                                                                                        *Eugene Peterson

Posted on

A Calming Effect

Airport kiosks of the sparser variety often feature elevated circular tables so travelers can munch their edibles while standing. My new South Asia friend had moved to such a table, his modest lunch in hand. Adjusting his backpack, he had a glance around. Suddenly, he paused – shifting his gaze to the beverage in his hand.

No straw.

Taking in the customers around him, he realized all their drinks did include sipping straws, each one poised as if standing at attention within the respective drinks. The travel-worn student’s heart sank.

The kiosk attendant did not give me a straw, Dheeraj moaned inwardly. Surely it is because they do not like my being here. In this place. . . this country.

Reining in his gathering gloom, Dheeraj returned his focus to the checkout counter, noting the small stack of napkins from which he had earlier retrieved his own.  He then noticed a newly served customer fetching one for himself. Turning, the gentleman pressed a finger to a metal device near at hand. From this device, a bright, fresh sipping straw magically appeared!

Relief washed over Dheeraj.

Ann and I flashbacked to our own skewed perceptions when arriving in Kenya as youngsters – our first foreign country of residence. Excitement and angst, wonder and trepidation ran the gamut, having a roller coaster field day. (Having grown up in an era of “Me Tarzan–You Jane” movies, I was half-surprised that our Jumbo Jet set down on paved tarmac, rather than a dirt landing strip!

In time our TU ministry team offered cultural orientation sessions for new arrivals coming in from abroad. We relished witnessing the ‘lights come on’, seeing anxieties dissipate even as we handed out copies of a perfectly-labeled booklet, How To Survive In The United States.

In time, opportunities arose where we could pass along treasured phrases from an ancient era, that proved as relevant today as at any time ever,

“Be anxious for nothing*. . . “Do not fear, I am with you**”

©2024 Jerry Lout                                                            *Philippians 4:6-7   **Isaiah 41:10

Posted on

Icebreaker

“So, how are you managing now that jet lag has run its course?

“In your early moments of being in the U.S., what was it like? Any surprises? Challenges?”

Serving up such questions, I discovered, helped ease the landing for new student arrivals, especially those who had never traveled outside their homeland.

Thoughtful queries delicately placed became bridge-building tools in nurturing further relationship. They also yielded an intriguing range of responses. One visit with a young scholar from the Indian subcontinent retains its near-the-top spot of my unforgettable list.

“Dheeraj*, how was your arrival to the U.S? Anything stand out?” His response was instant, and his shy laughter signaled I was in for a story. Offering an assuring smile, I gestured he had the floor.

“Well, the flight had been long. I was getting hungry when we landed at LAX, Los Angeles.

“After passing through Customs and Immigration, I found a sandwich shop along the corridor. There was plenty of time ahead of my connecting flight leaving for Tulsa.”

Dheeraj paused and offered a light chuckle before continuing. By now I was hooked on the unfolding narrative. Clearly something was up!

“Of course, I had never visited an American eating place. At the counter, I made my purchase – a sandwich, along with a soft drink. I was so mindful that I was a first-time visitor, a stranger to this place. Soon I became very worried that my presence here was not received well. I feared that as an outsider I was not at all ‘welcome’”.

Dheeraj gave another self-conscious and, to my relief, good-natured chuckle. Which led moments later to a stream of laughter erupting from us both.

©2023 Jerry Lout

 

 

Posted on

The Liason

Our young friend Constant was asked by school administration to act as liaison for some new enrollees soon to venture stateside from his (and their) distant island nation. Knowing they were readying themselves – as he had earlier done – to traverse the fourteen time zones into Tulsa, Constant took the role with keen empathy. A flurry of email exchanges followed. At last D-Day for the half-dozen students’ arrival came, all of them aboard the same flight.

By this time in Constant’s Tulsa sojourn, he had grown aware of my Sunday worship rhythm.  Later, in a matter-of-fact style, he related to me the airport scene as he welcomed the young arrivals from their native, predominantly Buddhist, homeland.

Scene: Arrival gate. Friday.

Constant: “Welcome to America!”, followed by incidental chitchat.

“Sunday morning you will go with me to Church. . .

“And, you will meet my friend, Jerry, there.”

Having engaged with Constant already and recognizing him as their ‘veteran’ international point person, the travel-weary but eager students nodded their pleasure. Formalities complete, the mini parade of scholars gathered up their carry-ons and headed for Baggage Claim.

Nice, I thought, maybe not the protocol others would have employed in receiving first-time arrivals to the country. Well done, Constant.

Sunday dawned.

Not having yet known of their airport dialogue, I entered our church sanctuary and got a happy surprise. My friend Constant flashed his easy smile, and then guided me to a particular row of seats. Here sat the six newly landed scholars – guys and ladies, warm and courteous – taking up the better part of the church pew row.

When service ended my wife and I mingled with the group. Then waved farewell as Constant whisked them off to further adventurous tastes of American culture.

We would meet again.

©2023 Jerry Lout