celebration – Jerry Lout ⚬ Writer ⚬ Speaker ⚬ Mobilizer

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.

Taking a seat on a cushioned wicker chair, I stretch my legs forward, resting my feet on another. The coffee mug I hold signals a steamy aroma and I indulge a second sip.

A keen sense of satisfaction hangs in the early air as I settle into my restful spot at this temporary residence atop a gradual-sloped hill. The liquid blue of Lake Fort Gibson lies before me, a forested, hilly shoreline her furthest boundary.

Birds twitter their good-mornings and I take in the distant view from my elevated sanctuary.

Where did the years go?

Nineteen Sixty-Four had taken me from Oklahoma’s hills to Wyoming’s Rockies and on to Montana, land of extravagant surprise.

A breeze visited the deck where I sat. It seemed to carry a flavor. Of feeling, warmth, thankfulness.

By week’s end the Seventeen people dearest to our lives – Ann’s and mine – will have gathered here at the lake house, an hour out of Tulsa. Last night’s laughter – light-hearted banter of our earlier arrivals – offered promise of more. Lots more.

It’s an early celebration – five months early. The season’s climate along with travel logistics moved us to fudge the timing. Summer, not December. . . well-suited, too, for the overseas clan just arrived.

Children, their spouses, grandchildren – all converging. From Konawa, from Tulsa, from Congo.

Words of a greeting play at my thoughts, a phrase. Surreal. And sweeter than honey. We’re hearing it these days more and more, my bride and me.

I reach again for the coffee mug. The next swig tastes richer still as I let the phrase replay.

Tag: celebration

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