faith – Jerry Lout ⚬ Writer ⚬ Speaker ⚬ Mobilizer

October 30, 2025

Crossroad

Life-altering decisions call for action.

Once I choose to lay aside poor patterns of living in favor of speech and conduct that better reflect God’s life in Christ, I must engage my will. I take action. I come to terms that I am shifting from spectator mode. I’m in the game for real.

Thinking will play an important part in moving into a better kind of living. But mental pondering alone over a crossroad lying before a traveler fails to get them a centimeter onto the new direction.

The fork has appeared in the road ahead, and I know I must act on my decision. Taking “the road less travelled”, I engage a powerful thing known as the will. My will.

Willpower alone lacks the necessary energy to bring about spiritual transformation. Nevertheless, the long journey of change into Christlikeness will never occur apart from my will – and my ongoing actions of choice stemming from it as I pursue him. And my pursuit of him marks the terrain where my will and the Lord’s companioning presence merge. I have willed to begin letting him be in charge.

Jesus supplies his powerful presence, but even so, he avoids seizing the steering wheel of my personal volition – my will. He offers his presence and his power right along with his offer of partnering with me throughout our good and marvelous life-altering adventure together.

It is so with all his disciples – each one a work in progress – God’s beloved children. We engage. We yield. Shifting our posture, we set our feet in motion alongside his companioning presence. It is when this happens that the load becomes light.

When the economic crisis of 2008 descended on the United States, several industries were broadsided. Among those profoundly impacted by the financial earthquake was the oil industry. Several of our international friends who had been majoring in Petroleum Engineering at our city’s university were swept into an academic crisis. Career-altering decisions were made in a matter of days. At a major crossroad, their futures felt at stake

Almost overnight graduate students at the PhD and Masters levels found themselves redirecting their attention to very new fields of research. Fresh learning curves met them at every turn, sharp and steep!

While these scholars were endowed with very keen minds, to shift from their petroleum engineering specialty to another demanded of them not only a new focus but a new set of disciplines. The students could not make the daunting change by merely wishing for it or by thinking it into being. Learning of and then entering into a new set of practices had to be embraced. Whole careers rested on this proposition.

In a similar way, when a Christian proceeds past something called their profession of faith, and embraces their actual identity as disciple-of-Jesus, they have embarked upon a life-altering path. Profession of faith becomes Practice of the faith. Humbly and decidedly with both will and their yieldedness in place, they strike out on the new path. A decision has been made – one of many lying ahead of them.. They have chosen the with-God life.

May 8, 2025May 7, 2025

Promising Prospect

Those surprise happenings that all of a sudden spring up in our lives. Such a moment came when Ann and I learned that our nephew Todd and his wife Karena were selected as backup singers for Andy Williams in his popular Branson show.

As special as this was, we grew happier still when word came of the debut of a blockbuster theatrical production in the same family-friendly entertainment center. Branson, Missouri nestles along the shores of Table Rock Lake in the glorious Ozark Mountains

Learning that Todd and Karena would be portraying a range of varying characters in scenes of The Promise – a robust contemporary musical depicting Jesus’ life – we reached out to some T.U. students for a special kind of road trip.

During one of these excursions as our van negotiated the scenic landscapes of Ozark Country, a young man – a father-to-be – broached the subjects of conscience and of faith. Mr. Ming displayed an intensity of emotion.

The child had been conceived at an inconvenient time. Their discussions over the unplanned pregnancy found the couple grappling over the pros and cons of a probable impending “procedure”.

Later on, after taking in The Promise production – a beautifully choreographed musical – and afterwards enjoying a nice chat with my “celebrity” nephew and niece, our group boarded the van for our return to Tulsa. Along the highway route, the earlier conversation resumed.

Mr. Ming, leaned forward from his place behind the driver’s seat, volleying question after question on the value and possible dignity of life. We spoke of the precious worth of each created person. Our back-and-forth dialogue ignited still more questions. Scripture was brought into play.

Through the days that followed Mr and Mrs. Ming and their unsettled minds were privately presented to heaven by believing friends.

Weeks passed. Months rolled by. Weighing their options in view of a freshly illumined conscience the couple made their call. And, when into the family circle the new little one entered the young parents pressed forward with deeper assurance than ever into their own infancy pilgrimage. Trust in God – author and guardian of life – was their new North Star.

May 2, 2025

Fun Night

“It’s Friday, so tonight I’m off to the Fun Mosque!”

“Fun Mosque?”

Throughout my years I had never considered these words as linked. Would not have thought of the pair as a compatible couple. Now, here was my friend and ministry colleague, Terry – a knowing smile lighting his face – more than happy to address my puzzled expression.

“Yeah”, he chuckled, “I’ve taken to calling it that.”

“You probably know the place”, he went on, “the little mosque a few miles out where this group of nominal Muslims from (he mentioned a country) meet up every week. I’m friend to several of the guys. We have a fun time visiting over any number of things, including culture and faith. . . or no faith.”

My friendship with Terry got its’ launch in 2007 at a Panera Bread on 41^st Street. He and his wife had served for years in the Middle East – responding to Jesus’ call to “make disciples of all nations”. Both are fluent in Arabic. Now – after a long, difficult but fruitful season overseas – they had settled back in Tulsa. Hearing of our campus work, Terry phoned. We arranged a meetup over coffee. He soon joined the staff. Our friend-and-co-worker relationship grew rich and deep over the years.

“Most of my ‘Fun-Mosque friends’”, Terry was now explaining, “have little use for religion of any kind.” He continued,

“Witnessing firsthand the heavy-handed way their country’s leaders have for years tried to impose their brand of Islam on the citizens it. . . well, it’s turned them off.” Terry sipped his coffee.

“Still, most all these guys are quite welcoming of new friends. They’re warm and engaging. They bring out food as we carry on visiting, joking, laughing, and sharing stories.

“And we talk serious things as well”, Terry went on after a pause.

“Occasionally, I get asked a question by one or two of the fun mosque guys about my faith. When that happens, I tend to share more about Jesus than about ‘Christianity’ as a formalized religion. This is a favorite time of the week for me, no question – sitting cross-legged there on the floor sipping hot tea with them,

“Fun.”

January 2, 2025January 2, 2025

Out Of The Chute

Okmulgee’s Rodeo Grounds sat north of town and directly across the road from our modest acreage along Highway 75. Tuesday evenings in the weeks leading up to the annual rodeo found cowboys, their “spurs ‘ajingling”, mounting their steeds. It was calf-rope-practicing night and on occasion my brother and I ventured onto the grounds to take in the action.

At the nod of his head to the guy manning the livestock chute, the cowboy signaled his, “Let’s GO”. Our perked-up ears caught the sharp clang of a chute gate opening. Perched atop the corral fencing Tim and I watched, mesmerized as a terrified calf lunged forward into freedom, only to lose that freedom in mere seconds if the Oklahoma cowboy got lucky.

At the start of a year I see the livestock chute as an apt illustration.

Here I am among earth’s inhabitants numbering in the billions. The ball drops. Midnight strikes. A master of ceremonies shouts of an infant new year just born! High fives, kisses and hugs and ‘Yippees!’ follow.

The clanging of the chute flinging open. And each one of us gets propelled into . . . What? Routine pursuits, turns in the road, exploration of belief?

To the unsure, the seeker, the disillusioned regarding faith. Simply be assured the Lord Jesus is indescribably good and utterly worth exploring and even pursuing in the new year just dawned. Hearty prayers your way.

To the Christ-follower we may be drawn to emerge from the chute humbly offering up an old but timely ‘yielding prayer’. Like one practiced among our Wesleyan friends at the start of each year since 1755. Navigating its ‘old English’ language calls for rallying the imagination but is wonderfully doable.

I am no longer my own, but thine. Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt. Put me to doing, put me to suffering. Let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee, exalted for thee or brought low for thee. Let me be full, let me be empty. Let me have all things, let me have nothing. I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal. And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it. And the covenant which I have made on earth, let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.*

May your Twenty-Twenty-Five meet with good at every turn.

December 5, 2024December 4, 2024

In Pursuit

Although her length and breadth boasts an imposing 1.7 million square miles and hosts a vast mix of ethnicities, each individual inhabitant of the Indian Subcontinent is ‘a story being written’. Through the many years since our meeting, Nuren’s story leaves me smiling and, frankly, in wonder.

When Nuren arrived in Michigan he brought with him a rich heritage of India family and culture. Hearing Nuren recall his grandfather’s role in shaping his life is itself an excursion into a generations-long treasure. While his Hindu upbringing instilled elements that framed some of his worldview, Nuren’s insatiable quest for deeper meaning gave rise to relentless questions.

When a married couple, Amit and Glory – also from India and also student-residents in the Wolverine State – happened to cross paths with Nuren, a bond of friendship began forging. So much so that when the couple moved to Tulsa on a snowy January day for Amit’s further studies, their friend Nuren found every excuse to stay in touch.

Through a host of phone visits and added long drives to Tulsa, Nuren’s questions about the intersection of personal life and the Christian faith were earnestly posed. In a sustained environment of warmth and hospitality, his friends in T-town never wearied of the visits. To the contrary, Amit and Glory continually welcomed their keen-minded, inquisitive friend. Glory’s tasty curries found their way to the simple dining table around which robust questions and the occasional prayer were brought forward.

On a warm Summer day a couple of years after Nuren’s first Tulsa visit, we gathered at the home of veterinary friend Jim Osborn. The water temperature of Jim and Pam’s above ground pool was just right.

While further questions (some not yet thought of) would remain unaddressed for a time, our hungry-for-truth friend Nuren was ready to respond to Jesus’ call, “Come, follow”.

A fresh dry towel appeared. Broad smiles, perhaps a tear or two, touched the faces of several gathered. Glory and Amit beamed. We entered the pool.

“So now, upon the profession of your faith. . in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. . .”

November 28, 2024

In Good Time

He has made everything beautiful in his time.*

From the start, the matchup seemed pre-ordained. Clint and Jackie had hardly met the Zhirs before hearts became knitted together.

Punctuated by periodic dinners together, friendship outings and game nights, the two households grew close. Conversations could cover any range of topics. With, however, one exception.

As devoted Jesus-followers, Clint and Jackie carried their faith walk into all spheres of life. Bringing the topic of spirituality and, particularly references to Jesus, however, gained little ground with their special Far East friends. From the early days of the relationship, the Zhirs politely signaled they had no interest in discussing religion or faith. The American hosts took note, faithfully honoring the couples’ space.

When Mrs. Zhir conceived and began her maiden journey toward motherhood, Jackie (mother of three) expressed delight. She made herself appropriately accessible – fielding anxious questions, conveying practicalities, offering encouragement. The two women – of their diverse histories, cultures and beliefs – grew ever closer in friendship as the months went by. And when baby came, the families celebrated together.

After university, Mr. Zhir found employment and the family moved to their new location. A few years passed.

At a coincidental meeting with our volunteer friends Clint and Jackie (they seemed especially cheery), we learned fresh news about the Zhirs.

“Hey, we heard from them recently!”, Clint began.

Jackie chimed in, “In our visit, they reflected on our warm friendship from years back. They also referenced their appreciation over our having given them space regarding the matter of ‘discussing religion’.”

Clint went on, “Through some newer friendships in their present city, the Zhirs began being stirred to explore Christ and the faith. Great news. Both are now believers!”

November 21, 2024

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.

June 13, 2024June 12, 2024

Silent Treatment

“Is he going there?” I thought. “Are there men here in the Sunday gathering (myself included) poised in this moment to witness the unveiling of a familiar elephant in the room?”

As with fingers at a dimmer switch, the pastor was advancing the dial. In the moments following, Roger sensitively and with great compassion teamed with the Holy Spirit in lifting the lights. Illumining a pathway in the recesses of some troubled minds.

A while back I had glimpsed a flicker of hope through my counsellor-friend Steve. He had graciously labored to assure me that I was not alone, that I did not have a corner on struggles over impure thoughts and lust. Now, taking in today’s account of a fellow brother in the faith – of his struggles and his ongoing pilgrimage into wholeness – I sensed a rare, near-tangible assurance . Could far better days lie ahead?

The era of my growing-up years – the 1950s and 60s – were those in the cultural landscape marked by imperfect ideals and role models, like the ‘strong, silent male’.

While the ‘strong’ piece of that phrase might have been in question concerning some, the ‘silent’ ingredient among men was often palpable.

It might have been normal to wax eloquent over Gurnsey prices down at the local livestock yard or contesting the preferred mode of transport (Chevy vs Ford), or debating which team in a league would make the World Series cut. But confiding about personal topics – struggles over addictive behaviors and so forth – was a practice entered into rarely indeed.

Thus, I had deduced from a young age, it was best keeping my personal concerns – disturbing as some might be – close to my chest. Better to trudge forward in the company of secrets than of shame.

April 4, 2024

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.

January 11, 2024

Sharp Turn

Impressive structures that weather the elements of time owe their long resilience to sound foundations. Moving about the Tulsa campus lying along the famed Route 66 corridor, I was garnering insights about T.U.’s own foundations. Not those to do with brick and mortar but of held convictions, beliefs and values – elements that gave rise to the university’s birth back in the nineteenth century.

Along the way I reflected how the many streams of higher education in America had sprung forth and flowed directly from the headwaters of Christian faith and practice.

The first colleges in America were founded by Christians and approximately 106 out of the 108 first colleges were Christian colleges. Harvard University, which is considered one of the leading universities in America and the world was founded by Christians. One of the original precepts of the then Harvard College stated that students should be instructed in knowing God and that Christ is the only foundation of all “sound knowledge and learning*.

The more I drank in of T.U.’s legacy the more I felt a grateful kinship. I paused at the courtyard of Sharp Chapel. Bedrock elements like truth and compassion, mercy and justice – qualities embodied in the person of Jesus himself – had birthed this place. These and other such virtues, all featured front and center at the school’s inception.

The University of Tulsa arose out of Presbyterian Mission roots by way of Kendall College. Even now the ‘vital signs’ of the Christian faith bore evidence of active life. Via several streams of campus expression. From Presbyterian to Baptist to Methodist to Catholic, alongside a range of parachurch ministries.

Buoyed in part by my recent ‘until they know that you care’ moment, I rallied my courage.

Entering through large ornate doors of Sharp Chapel I followed a stairway up to the Chaplain’s office.

Would my request be approved? I wondered. Would International Student Ministries be endorsed as a formally sanctioned presence. To offer, through the Lord’s grace, a witness to the life and hope resident in the person of Jesus? Particularly, among scholars and students even now making their way to this place from across the world.