Tag: Christ

Posted on

A Different Christmas

*Blogreader friends: Today’s entry (penned yesterday) is lengthier than usual . I hope you’ll like the fictional narrative’s meaning. . . and spirit.  Merry Christmas all.

Tobi William’s adolescent fingers fished through the kitchen drawer till one of them landed on the prize.

“Here it is, Trina”, the eleven-year-old chimed to his kid sister, “Your turn with the calendar!”

Trina took the Sharpie from the brown-haired boy who was a bare two years her senior. In a sweeping arm-wave of mock theatrics, Trina landed the sharpie’s point on the number 23. “There” she pronounced, “tomorrow night we sleep at Samantha and Caleb’s!”

High-fiving each other they bounded from the room.

Of course, as with most siblings, the two didn’t always see eye to eye. They had their occasional spats and their scraps. But, with special events like the one slated for the very next day, the harmony of the present would go unchallenged.

The two family’s homes lay just a mile apart with their respective neighborhoods, linked by Ozark Blvd.

The children’s parents had struck up an acquaintance with the Butler family through a random encounter 18 months earlier at a nearby park. The friendship deepened through shared interests, their common faith. . . and out of an instantaneous connection between the children.

Caleb and Tobi, for instance, lived to skateboard, a fact to which their legs and arms and other exposed surfaces of the body often bore witness.  An impressive sampling of bruises and partially-healed pavement burns, along with the occasional bandaid dangling here or there at an elbow or shin or knee.

Tobi and Trina’s sleepover at their friend’s home was a departure from the ordinary. After all, who does this on Christmas Eve?

In this instance, however, the sets of parents themselves had set about contriving for the arrangement for just this once.

The Williams had learned that the Butlers had been enjoying a special practice – something to do with setting out a ‘treat’ in readiness of a coming ‘guest’. The items were arranged and placed on a small table near the Christmas tree. The serving was in place well before sunrise on Christmas day. Toby and Trina’s parents felt a Christmas experience in the home of their friends might give their young ones a special enduring memory.

Christmas Eve arrived! Each household enjoyed a nice mealtime to themselves.

At the Butler home a bit after dinner, Samantha and Caleb gazed out a window, studying the trickle of cars passing by their house. Then, seeing a quite familiar car roll into view (it was now around 9:00 pm.) the children danced and rushed outside. Tobi and his sister, laughing with their friends, were welcomed in.

Servings of fresh eggnog appeared. A few minutes later the children (with at least a couple of them bearing ‘milk-like’ rings about their lips) moved to a place near an old but decently-tuned piano. The singing of Christmas carols began.

“Okay, guys, Off to dreamland”, one of the parents announced. Their pajamas donned, the four friends headed upstairs for a reasonably good night’s rest.

“Are they all asleep?”

“Yes, seems like it.”

“I’ll have everything in place before sunrise.”

“Alright. Goodnight”.

“Nite”.

At Christmas dawn the house remained sweetly quiet. For the briefest of moments. Then. . .

“Samantha!” cried Trina, “it’s Christmas!”

With this the four children – in a hastening recovery from blurry eyes and sleepy yawns – made their way downstairs.

What their eyes met brought surprise that registered strongly on each face. It was not a surprise of awe or wonder, but one more of curiosity and puzzlement.

“Mom? Dad? You are here?” said Tobi. “But you dropped us off last night and we thought you. . .” his voice trailed and then picked up again, “and also, why are you guys and Mr and Mrs. Butler. . . why are you all sitting on the carpet there by the little table?”

“Yes, you’re sure right”, Trina’s mother laughed, “we did go back home and that is exactly where we slept. But”, she continued, “we couldn’t think of missing out on this”. Mrs. Williams was motioning to the small table.

The items atop the table that had been arranged on it seemed to be still intact, resting undisturbed beneath a tidy cloth covering.

By now the Williams and Butler children had drawn near – their eight collective eyes fixed on the little table and its modestly veiled burden. Mystery.

Samantha and Caleb’s dad spoke.

“Tobi and Trina, on this special morning, we wanted to have you and your parents – yes, and all of us together – to simply join in the celebration. Celebrating Jesus’ birth by remembering what he came to bring.  . . you know, his Christmas gift. . .”

Mr. Butler paused, smiling.  Then, pretending the look of a professor he asked,

“Now, tell me young students. . . what do you think that gift might have been. . . the one that Jesus came to give?”

After a brief silence, nine-year-old Trina raised a hand. Her already-widened eyes carried a twinkle as if a ‘spark of knowing’ had landed on her pupils.

Acknowledging Mr. Butler’s head nod, Tina declared, “He came and gave himself!” 

“Yes! And that is why. . .” (here the host dad lingered), “Well, that is why that, after we open a few presents here in a little bit, we will all head to the Community Shelter downtown and share some food and clothing with our friends there”.

“Wow”, Samantha whispered.

“But first,” added Mrs. Williams, “let’s celebrate a birthday! . . We will need all you kids for a special part, OK?”

“Sure”.

“Great. Do you remember the part of the one Christmas Carol that goes ‘O Come let us adore him’?”

The children nodded.

“Well, us four parents need all our four children, that would be you, to sing that ‘O Come let us adore him’ part through just a few times softly while we – your moms and dads – receive of the Lord’s Table. In this way we will all be remembering and worshipping our savior, our wonderful Gift-giver the One who gave himself in life and in death. . and even now – living in and through us all.”

At this, the children of the Williams home and the children of the Butlers’ home slipped alongside each other, clearing their voices softly like vocalists sometimes do.

The adults, kneeling near the table, began sharing the communion elements together. The movements caught young Caleb’s eye,

Signaling toward the elements by a nod of his head he whispered to the others just loud enough to be heard,

“What our parents are doing there sure does beat leaving a couple cookies and some milk for a fat little elf dressed in red”. A collective giggle erupted. A fresh clearing of throats followed,

O come let us adore him. . . Chri-i-ist the Lord !🎶

©2024 Jerry Lout

Posted on

Watershed Moments

As with many spouses of T.U. scholars, she had adopted a Western nickname (perhaps less daunting to the American tongue). Gayle and her graduate-student husband, ‘Dean’, had been in Tulsa nearly two years. The story of their faith journey corresponded with a marginal difference to that of another married couple, the Zhirs*. The Zhirs happened to both share a common first name. My wife, a twinkle in her eye, nicknamed them ‘Zhirs Squared’.

ISM enjoyed serving alongside host families – Christ-followers endeavoring to mirror the faith. Such households, with their knack of welcoming strangers in their midst, lived and breathed hospitality.

Dean and Gayle were an engaging couple eager to sharpen their “second language” skills. They instantly warmed to the ‘English Corner’ community.

Along the way Dean was notified that a significant academic opportunity in a distant location had been offered him. The couple’s departure from Tulsa was imminent. They would move in a matter of days.

Wednesday evening’s English Corner rolled around and the usual stream of internationals and American host friends arrived at our common meeting area, the campus dining hall. Alerted to Gayle and her husband’s news of soon moving away, one volunteer exclaimed, “Oh, Gayle, we are going to miss you so much!” At this, the young lady – overcome by the sincere gesture – excused herself and moved to a quiet area to gather her emotions. Tears flowed.

Some moments later she was joined by her host friend who had followed her from a respectable distance. In the moments that followed, Gayle, sensing a consoling presence which she discerned to be the love of God, expressed her desire to embrace the faith that so marked her friend’s lives. Shortly afterward her husband Dean followed suit. Christ proved himself true through their years following. Savior, companion and Lord.

Among the beautiful features of nearing, then crossing salvation’s threshold to God’s kingdom is the uniqueness of each person in their own pilgrimage.  The circuitous route of the Zhirs (befriended by a different volunteer family altogether) would unfold  across its own distinctive set of landscapes.

©2024 Jerry Lout

Posted on

En Route

Any novice square dance student just learning the “grab-your-partner and do-si-do” moves is soon paying attention to distance and space.  The night of Bear Trap’s special hoedown witnessed one couple stagger backward and break into laughter after conking heads at the “now bow to your partner” call.

Our return to Tulsa from the Colorado Rockies found our team and volunteers shifting gears as Spring Semester was soon to launch.  Brisk January days shocked the system of some students – especially those transitioning from the equatorial climates of their homelands. It meant shedding their ultralight sweaters in exchange for garments more suited to our Oklahoma winds sweeping down the plains.

Most students in the coming days discovered the need of having their own vehicle. But many had never driven. ISM volunteers and staff stayed busy, both pursuing reliable cars that may correspond to a student’s thin budget and the considerable courage demanded in coaching the new owner to drive!

Travelers over the world know that streets and thoroughfares are hazardous places, especially at times when adrenaline runs high.

Yingli was set to graduate. The commencement ceremony would begin in an hour. Cap and gown in hand, she rushed to cross the street en route to the venue where crowds had already gathered. Yingli missed spotting the oncoming car until the last second. She immediately halted but not soon enough to avoid the tire crushing her foot. Though Good Samaritans rushed to her aid, her fractured bones waylaid any hopes for the near future to ‘walk’ for her diploma.

Our friends were quick to locate her at the hospital. Comforted through the trauma by their presence and prayers, she settled into the long season of recovery – several weeks of it back in her homeland. Afterwards, again in America while advancing her academic pursuits, she entrusted her life to Christ.

Yingdi’s smile shone with humble radiance throughout those subsequent weeks, then into coming years. She had embarked on a new journey, along another kind of thoroughfare; a passageway like no other.*

©2024 Jerry Lout                                                *John 14:6

Posted on

Recovery Road

Week after week our men’s step group gathered.

One by one, unhealthy elements of our lives found their way to the light. These elements (whether imposed by others or self-inflicted) defined the things that could now get brought openly before the Lord and one another.

As with the peeling away of onion skins, our interior selves gradually emerged. Confession – issuing from a humility of heart that only God  can bestow – buoyed our confidence in his trustworthiness.

Because of his astounding love for broken persons caught up in vices of sexual impurity (scripture’s listings are long and precise), Christ calls his sons and daughters to identify and renounce our self-justifying games. I was summoned by the Spirit’s drawing to call a spade a spade. Enough with avoidance! As put forward in the lyrics of the old spiritual, “It’s me, it’s me O Lord, standing in the need of prayer”.

Owning and confessing my personal moral wrongs was, I knew, necessary for turning toward and gaining freedom. Victory was in reach, but only through the strength of God’s promised Spirit and Word. This I had come to know. I longed for freedom as much as anything I could long for.

Frankly, I found it easier earlier on to open up about the bad things that had been done to me, than to come clean about my own repeated cycles of willful sinning. The process toward freedom was marked by the proverbial rhythm: “Two steps forward, one step back”. Factored in, was a continued revisiting of our compassionate God, calling out to him in fervent appeal. He did not disappoint. Not ever.

Of the various recovery communities spread across the North American landscape, the Step programs that seem to bear the more promising fruit are those calling for vulnerable, courageous action.

While (mercifully) my particular brokenness had not translated into outright infidelity (though heart iniquity was another matter), there was no side-stepping the element of straight-up confession. Not only before God and my brothers, but in contrition to my dearest and nearest family members – not the least, the precious wife of my youth. The distracting nature of a divided mind had far too many times deprived my family of a focused attentiveness.

STEP 8: We made a list of all persons we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all.*

© 2024JerryLout                                                              *Celebrate Recovery

Posted on

Owning It

I was about to discover that stepping from the shadows makes room for Christ’s light to catch its best chance at bringing forward his healing work.

Venturing out of the murky fog of Shadowland into sunlight’s inviting glow calls for one-day-at-a-time intentional living. Gritty, practical tools – in the grip of a handful of desperate, like-minded companions on the way – came to prove priceless in making headway.

If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will take you there.

No truer maxim was ever cranked out when it came to my need for handles with which to navigate a viable pathway beyond broken sexuality. When a fellow is plagued by self-doubt and a sense of helplessness, he dare not (yet again) try to suck it up, marshal remnants of a fledgling willpower and soldier on.

Our evolving band of CPR brothers was supplying the flesh-and-blood community piece. And, the recovery program’s down-to-earth practices gave us those handles by which to prayerfully gain yardage.

On ‘Day One’ we went, each of us, to the mat to contend with a brutal concept. It was ours – within each of our own stories – to grapple with and embrace one harsh truth.

“We admitted we were powerless over our addictions and compulsive behaviors, that our lives had become unmanageable.”*

Reaching up with “quivering hand”, edging my protective mask of secrecy downward the few centimeters necessary to ‘come clean’, I drew a slow breath. From behind my eyelids, I felt the gathering of a tear. Maybe two.

©2024 Jerry Lout                                                       *Celebrate Recovery. Step One.

Posted on

Company Of Friends

Cradling the lifeless form of their newborn daughter, the couple could hardly contain their sorrow. Nothing fully prepares expectant parents for the trauma of losing the precious infant whose arrival had been joyously anticipated through the long months prior.

They were young in the Christian faith, and their shattered hearts needed all the mending “the God of all comfort” might bring.

Comfort them he did. Not in a magic display of immediate relief absent of future tears and void of sorrow surges that can erupt without a moment’s notice. Rather through the companioning presence of One who (though intimately acquainted with grief) embodies the singular kind of hope that “springs eternal”.

To the husband and wife and their young son, a handful of friends, American and international, remained available in respectful but easy reach. In the fortifying strength of intercessory prayer, the small band of the faith community supplied them with the embodied presence of the Lord of Life. Verbal expressions were rarely voiced. They were seldom needed. There are settings where Presence alone speaks volumes.

To the wonder of many – believers and non-believers alike who had filed into the sanctuary for the little one’s memorial service – the young father offered up tender expressions of gratitude to God the Father. Though weary with grief, our gentle=mannered friend, hailing from a land far away, had drunk from waters of grace issuing from the risen Christ.

From their shadowland valley, the family moved forward day by day, drawing often upon the Lord’s peace, his immutable Word, and a company of friends.

©2024 Jerry Lout

Posted on

Poised

Mr. Tang’s baptism was warmly celebrated at our Thirty-fourth and Garnett Rd Church. Pastor Steve Morgan administering the sacred rite. The sacrament affirmed, as for so many others across the centuries, evidence of a brand new identity. Mr. Tang was a reborn creation, his old life yielded up in exchange for his new life of Christ within.

How wonderful of the Lord, bringing a precious man with essentially no knowledge of Jesus from the far side of the globe to this place – in this time – for this purpose.

People are different from one another. An understatement. In each of our world’s seven-billion-plus souls, there is written a unique human story. And, while every story varies, all our journeys pulse with deep yearnings. Amazingly, the Designer God who formed us can meet us where we are – poised and ready to lead us toward himself. Some of our personal narratives may feature, as with Mr. Tang, a case of disentangling from chemical substances. Step by slow step our transformation gains traction. We may suffer setbacks. He is faithful still.

For others, the prevailing vice is the obsessive drive to excel in education or business. Human beings have a notorious capacity for succumbing to hard-driving taskmasters.

Our friend, Nguyen, from Southeast Asia pursued a common aim in the world of higher education, to advance as a leading scholar in his chosen field.

One evening at the student activities center an English conversation volunteer introduced Nguyen to a series of fantasy pieces. One of these featured a wardrobe and a lion and a witch.  Nguyen’s own narrative was poised to turn a corner.

©2024 Jerry Lout

Posted on

Crossings

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.

©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

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