care – Jerry Lout ⚬ Writer ⚬ Speaker ⚬ Mobilizer

January 4, 2024January 3, 2024

The Qualifier

“God doesn’t call the qualified. He qualifies the called.”

It was a quote I had heard years before. Now, like small fragments of glowing embers in a fire pit being newly-roused by a stout breeze, the phrase was poised to ignite afresh. And just in time.

A lot of my life had been marked by self doubt. I fell short of one of those most desirable qualities (according to popular motivational speakers) for achieving success. Self-confidence. Oddly enough, the Christian tradition which had most shaped my spiritual life and worldview had been often given to bold and assertive, ‘you’ve got-this!’ declarations. “I can do all things…” “I am more than a conqueror…” And even, “Give me this mountain!” – a bold claim voiced by an 80-year-old, battle-scarred vet. Caleb. There was something beautiful about my growing- up years in such an upbeat climate of a believing community. Such confident, faith-fueled declarations (drawn straight out of sacred text) were even then serving to deepen in me a much-needed trust in God that could come into play way down the road. I was just not very aware of it.

— Hwy 169

Cruising along the busy Tulsa expressway one afternoon, I listened half-attentive to music pulsing through the car radio. I was at the moment right in the middle of head-talk.

“What an opportunity, international outreach right within the heart of Tulsa, Okla!” Countered by, “Right … but you? Really?” A voice inside my brain objected, then continued, “These are really bright scholars from across the world, many in advanced fields of the sciences. What do you know? What qualifies you?”

The music piece on the radio ended. In that moment, in the middle of my cerebral – emotional tug-of-war, the DJ’s voice broke in – “People don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.” I later heard that the poignant statement was traced to Theodore Roosevelt. Regardless, this was my first-ever time to take it into my ears.

Astonished is too mild a term. In that moment I was, as our British friends would put it, gobsmacked.

November 2, 2023November 4, 2023

Sweet The Sound

I was not well prepared for it, seeing my father in this state.

Since my last in-person visit with him five months prior, the ugly villain Mesothelioma had altered the physical frame of this good man I called Dad.

The disease, spawned and fueled through years of exposure to asbestos would rob yet another household of yet another industrial craftsman before their time.

I was thankful for the good people of Hospice, seeing to it that Dad’s heart desire would be realized. Of spending his final days under the same roof at home with my mom, his wife of 57 years.

Herself weakened through added hardships of her own, my mother had grown unable to see to Dad’s needs on the off days between Hospice visits.

That large host of adult children whose role ultimately involves the care of an ailing parent comprises a sector of humanity occupying a precious, even sacred, space. Arranging now a mattress and bedding on the carpeted floor alongside Dad’s bed I was entering such a space. Difficult as some moments became, I afterward reflected on the special honor God had truly afforded me.

Music helped.

Taking up a spot on a simple stool at my father’s bedside I settled in with an acoustic guitar. The sessions of strumming and offering up melodies from yesteryear ignited a spark of life all their own. I sensed my dad’s heart being sweetly moved. Even as potent pain meds would escort him again and again to either edge of consciousness, musical pieces themselves introduced to the soul their own unique medicinal properties. Each of his favored set of lyrics – several he had been heard humming during my childhood – were, I prayed, bringing him an added measure of peace. The Old Rugged Cross – Victory in Jesus – Amazing Grace.

The folks specializing in personality types would classify me as melancholic. Occasionally, sitting perched on the guitar stool, I caught my mind projecting forward. Should the passing of my own closing days be drawn out over a bit of time, someone might think to flavor up the environment, smuggle a little music into the room.

In the company of sacred sounds, dad lay quiet. Soon he would begin bridging the divide, with God. Heaven songs to receive him.

June 22, 2023June 23, 2023

Rankings

Are habits of surrender reserved for the big leaguers alone – the Billy Grahams, the George Verwers, the Mother Teresas?

It seems to come naturally, doesn’t it, the tendency to think, “Yes, but that is them, not me. I am just me”. We’re prone to contrast what we see as our lackluster performance in growth against that of others whose stars seem to shine bright. Such dead-end thinking misses the point and holds us hostage to our insecurities.

Not a single Jesus-follower who has ever reflected him well has done so by the mere capital of talent or natural gifting.

Simply put, God does not know a big leaguer. He has never met one.

Yes, every person carries their own gifts and graces. Still, the one thing that sets the flourishing disciples (apprentices) apart is the simple willingness to believe in and love Jesus. It is from this garden soil of trust alone that undiluted obedience is born. And, from this, fruit. It is simple, really. The old hymn sums the matter up well, “Trust and obey. . . there is no other way”.

Young Billy was a common North Carolina country boy working dairy cattle when a farmer neighbor invited him to a gospel meeting in a nearby town. His heart was moved by things heard that evening. Billy came to be esteemed in years to come, America’s pastor.

The tough conditions of the poor in the Albania city where she lived stirred the mind of an adolescent girl, Gonxha Agnes, a.k.a. Teresa of Calcutta. Myriads of discarded human beings got to taste for their first-ever time unconditional care.

Captivated by lines from a book gifted him, a rascally kid from New Jersey hungered for more. In time, through his efforts and to his savior’s glory, a library-ship, the Logos, traversed oceans, docking at port cities across the world heralding liberating news.

We are certainly given a wonderful thing to ponder, musing over that handful of people the Christian world celebrates as singular standouts.

Still, for every celebrated hero of the faith the worldwide family of God today numbers millions. Humble, obedient disciples of Jesus, faithfully plodding in life and service in close company with their Lord. By human standards they might be labeled, little leaguers.

Jesus knows them as friends.