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

Undone

“Splendid dining”, Leonard smiled to the missionary wife. “I’m a lucky chap, finding this home for my lodging.” He nodded gratefully to the family. “I shall now get on with some things”, he offered, and stepped from the room.

Entering his own room he rolled his head slowly about and gave his body a long stretch. Moving the few steps to his simple desk, he took up the ledger that had come home with him weeks before. Squiggles on an open page revealed his latest entries – further markings attesting his focused quest. To prove the clergyman wrong, show the “holy book” up for what it was – a bundle of contradictory myths. Seated now, he reached for the Bible itself.

Fingering the book marker inside, he flipped to the last page he had visited. Over past weeks his practice had become ritual. . . Arrive home from a day’s work – down a cup of tea – tidy up a bit – join the family for dinner – retire to his room – and resume the task at hand. That is, expose the religious book for what it was. And reinforce his atheism all the further.

His daily regime with the Bible had taken Leonard through the ancient books of Law, the Histories of Old Testament Kings and the like. He had passed onward and through the Wisdom books – jotting notes the whole way. All the Prophet Isaiah’s sixty-six chapters were recently gone through, bringing the sum of his readings thus far to twenty-three entire books of the Bible. There seemed no reason to think today’s exercise would hold anything specially notable.

The book of Jeremiah the Prophet lay open before him at chapter seventeen. Leonard came to verse nine. He read slowly.

“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?”

Leonard Coote – the keen-minded, self-assured man – took in the fourteen words. He read it once more. Then again.

And was undone.
©2017 Jerry Lout