Creator – Jerry Lout ⚬ Writer ⚬ Speaker ⚬ Mobilizer

September 29, 2022

Resemblance

What would it be like to resemble God – Yes, eternal creator, sustainer of the cosmos and all that it holds? Could we mere humans even ponder such a notion?

The astonishing thing is we already do (by Holy Scripture’s account) share a profound likeness with the Almighty. While no mortal human has ever been or will ever be godlike in terms of things like self-existence, all-knowing, etc. . . Still, every human is in some precise way made in the image of God.

But further in, at a level even further beyond our ability to grasp, he has purposed that God’s redeemed (saved) ones embody the qualities of Jesus’ own character. To reflect the very nature and the virtues of his one and only Son Jesus. Yes, Christians are meant to, over time (through plenty of changings and growings) truthfully own the statement, “as he is so also are we in the world”*.

It is the interior world of Christ God calls us to emulate.

This, the Almighty assures, is within our grasp. With God’s nonstop assistance on our behalf to be sure. But within reach. Possible.

Christlikeness comes about through training in the ways of love and of joy and of peace. Qualities which he alone possesses in full and which he alone can reproduce in us as we humbly and courageously cooperate in the lofty enterprise.

So, what might be a first step?

The beginning move his direction always has and ever will be about vision. Onto what am I setting my gaze? To whom or to what am I continually directing my attention? We hear a saying, “You become like the thing you focus upon”.

Rick Warren penned four shocking words as the first sentence of his classic work, The Purpose Driven Life – “It’s not about you”, (ice water to the ego).

In order to set my attention more and more in the direction of Jesus so that I come to flourish in his qualities of love and joy and peace, I will find it necessary to shift much of my attention away from – yes – me.

Does the phrase “a work in progress” spring to mind?

Probably.

March 30, 2016August 28, 2017

Spice

Chutzpah. “ho͝otspə”

The Yiddish word even sounds brash. It’s meaning – supreme self-confidence, nerve, gall, audacity, boldness.

While chutzpah doesn’t fully define Claire, some days it seems close. Her fabulous mother – my daughter-in-law who may carry her own chutzpah gene – recounts. . .

On our way home today in terrible traffic, I was driving like a boss — only centimeters between myself and the many cars around me coming in all directions – maneuvering to make a near-impossible left turn.

Knowing I was doing a great job, I nevertheless voiced to Claire, “Driving in Kinshasa is not my thing”.

Claire responded, THAT’s for sure – Which left mom questioning with a teasing glint,

“What do I have to do to impress this girl?

Such spunk, tempered by her wise parent’s guidance, could well cinch feats in life for Claire the more faint-hearted may only dream of.

***

Relational

Here, grandpa, I’ll take that inside for you. Grandma, let me carry that. The middle child – and indeed his siblings as well – from early childhood volunteered aid to the seniors come to visit.

With daily livestock duties at the family farm, tending to his restaurant job and his full college load, T.J.’s still keenly attentive to relationships. How ya’ll doing? escapes his lips as much as any phrase.

***

Industrious

Saturday – Easter Eve, my wife’s birthday – arrived. While she busied herself in the kitchen with granddaughter and daughters, I sat visiting with my two sons-in-law and grandson, Travis. Our most recently-added son-in-law responded to questions about the small brood of ducklings being nurtured at he and his new bride’s Tulsa home.

Travis, second-born of our grandkids – now married and parenting a fine toddler – ably engaged the discussion,

Hundreds of my baby chicks made it through. The incubator care I gave them made a difference.

Travs’ poultry enterprise began when – in diapers still – he shadowed his mother to the chicken-house, tending to his chirping, feathered buddies. Overseeing the full process fell to him in short order. As did other outdoor tasks, requiring a sharp mind and a ready body.

Three youngsters – Claire, TJ, Travis – all share in the qualities of confidence, warm-heartedness and industry. Yet each one – a one-of-a-kind – in personality and virtues.

As with them, our creator grants us every one, giftings, graces, ways of being. To touch a life, a family, a society – bringing things of good to our needy world.

Variety is the very spice of life, that gives it all its flavor.

– William Cowper (poet)

July 21, 2015August 28, 2017

Greenwood Lake. Rescue

My father and mother lost their first son to drowning.* Given such trauma I am thankful for the courage they showed later on. When their next two boys reached swimming age.

Tim and I loved water. If it were roomy enough to swim in we weren’t picky about the spot. Mom and dad freed us to that pleasure. . .

Farm ponds and rivers – summertime could find us and our friends reveling in them. The deep blue of rain-filled rock quarries called us. Their depths were bracing, invigorating. At the bottom of one quarry rested a long-abandoned dump truck.

Years before, it somehow descended from the quarry ridge. It rested submerged there now – still upright. What fun, inhaling deeply, diving, navigating the cab interior. Taking turns we mock-drove the old truck until straining lungs obliged us aloft to draw in new oxygen. Then back again, chasing one another through one open window and out the other.

Our favorite swimming hole by far was a pond-turned-commercial pool. A few years earlier, a visionary gentleman at the edge of town added diving boards, changing rooms and a snack canteen to his large pond. A brilliant revenue source, his family’s Greenwood Lake opened for business. It seemed every kid in Okmulgee County frolicked in Greenwood at some point before reaching their late teens.

A lifeguard pulled me from the Lake unconscious early one season. My headfirst dive might have fractured my neck. Thankfully not. The accident sprang from a miscalculation.

Swimming season was freshly opened. The winter months and springtime yielded little rainfall and the shoreline revealed it. Not factoring this, I assumed the lake owners had extended the shoreline – providing a new beach area.

I trotted onto a platform leading to diving areas further out. Stopping short of the diving boards I turned and faced the water.

In previous summers the water here was several feet deep. Being a pond, the cloudy waters kept me from seeing bottom . . . from judging its depth. There wasn’t a new beach. Greenwood was simply low. I dived into water that was inches deep.

I woke up on the grass. The lifeguard was at my shoulder. An onlooker remarked, That kid was lucky, looks like he’ll make it. Minutes later I swam from the shallows to join my brother and our cousin. Aunt Dovie’s son, Paul, was visiting us from Phoenix.

Our life’s trailways hold curious mysteries for us. At times they may link us to something – someone – beyond ourselves. I like to think a benevolent God ensured that an on-duty lifeguard was attentive – ready and alert to rescue this inattentive youngster at Greenwood Lake. I believe the same Creator gently prompted my Aunt Dovie to be attentive – on-duty in Phoenix years ago after the death of Bobby. Dovie intervening for my mother and father with words of rescue. Of life.