farm – Jerry Lout ⚬ Writer ⚬ Speaker ⚬ Mobilizer

May 25, 2023May 24, 2023

Tending Soil

“Take my life and let it be ever, only, all for Thee”, pleads the hymn writer. The cry pulses with yearning, hunger. He hungers to be fully owned by One who is wiser and more capable in the great undertaking. Of fashioning the apprentice to a pure reflection of Jesus. Ever only all for Thee.

Every young farm kid knows the sensation of freshly-plowed earth, of feeling its cool softness at the entry of an eager pair of bare feet. What delight – shoeless and sockless – toes and heel pushing themselves into rich soil on an early Summer day.

For me, the simple action sparked a magic “yippee!” moment. Following the plow blade’s piercing work, the Alfalfa field got nicely smoothed out by a clunky tractor-drawn implement called a harrow. If, in these steps of sowing-prep the soil itself could speak, it might have bellowed out a loud objection, “Stop this, Stop, OK?!”

Hardship.

“Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time, accepting hardship as a pathway to peace”.

As a Christ-follower, I might generally offer up those first couple of Serenity Prayer lines with little complaint. The last seven words? Not so much.

Another barefoot memory I relish is a little self-imposed goal set while trailing my daddy across fresh-turned soil. While it falls short of Olympic Trial standards, my goal was marked by two firm rules. (1) Keep up with my daddy’s long strides and, (2) With every leap forward, plant my small foot at the center of his large boot print. Succeeding at the two goals – for even a short while – left me a little goofy and giddy.

While human life can and does reflect seasons of enjoying each moment at a time, we are creatures of paradox. Up seems down. Down seems up. Healthy growth for the believer in doing life well calls for episodes of hardship.

These seasons come our way unavoidable, inescapable. And, in some cases, fiercely painful. Yet, in Christ, there is held before us a bedrock assurance. Goodness and flourishing will meet the pilgrim in good time. If not now, at the other side.

February 10, 2016August 28, 2017

Train

Warm the bench.

The high, red-brick gymnasium overshadowed our school’s single-story classrooms.

Parked on the cold bench with fellow player-wannabees, my gaze dropped to the tennis-shoed polio foot at the end of my left leg.

My rear end’s the best thing this bench ever saw come its way. I’ll keep this wood plank warm all season.

I looked up to the scrimmage happening on court. My melancholy eased. Look at those Petit brothers. Perspiration glistened on their lithe ebony forms. Wow, amazing their fitness. . . and their moves. Effortless.

So it seemed.

* * * * * * * *

A common link binds me presently to four athletes.

Colton, the youngest and his sister, Tara (high school junior) practice lobbing free throws. Every day. They scramble after rebounds for their teams. Moments later their coach barks, Work it inside, move the ball inside!

After practice the siblings breeze along four miles of dirt road to their Oklahoma farm home – to chores, and homework. To laughs with family at the wood-burning stove.

The third athlete in the quartet – Luke, the ninth-grader – schools in Kenya. Luke keeps fit for what’s up next. . . Rugby, volleyball? Calls made in the game of rugby land strangely on American ears. . . scrum awarded – collapsing ruck. . . Given the sport’s intensity, ‘Rugby-moms’ are known to gasp at certain calls – bleeding wound. . .

Grace rounds out athlete number four. On the Congo playing field rigorous training tunes her ears to soccer calls. Corner kick – yellow card. On it goes.

I thrill taking in games, studying pics of these my grand-athletes. Some nearby, some far.

My mind revisits the Petit brothers of Preston High. And the term so readily voiced before. Effortless.

No. The thing that is going on out there – over the squeaking shoes – the pivots, the fakes, the twirling leaps. Nothing accidental’s going on out there. Not a thing.

My thoughts shift to another dimension. To life. All of life.

Whatever goes on with a person that actually counts. Language acquisition, architecture, athletics – or that makes for exceptional living – those actions demand something. On-purpose, precise, repetitive action. While dreaming, hoping.

My fabulous four athlete-grandkids practice. They’re keeping fit. They train..

I’ll never suit up for the NBA. Or charge down a soccer field defying blockers and goalies. I won’t (God forbid) kick shins – or have shins kicked – in a rugby scrum.

Every athlete has an aim.

In the contest of life every follower of Jesus has an aim. Really, an aim beyond the highest aspirations of any physical athlete. The aim is dual in nature, fashioned amazingly God himself.

Being transformed by renewing the mind, the way we think.

Let Christ be formed in you – our becoming like him. In word and action.

Great, we say. So. How’s this done? How?

Good news it is possible. He will help us.

To train, to practice, to be made fit. Till new ways become, not ill-fitting, but natural. Something we call – as Jesus did – the light burden – the easy yoke.

I lean down. Cold bench, warm bench. . . no matter. Lacing my shoes I cock my ear to the coach’s call,

Time to train.

January 16, 2018February 13, 2018

Observing

Observe

Watching my Suzuki dirt bike hoisted onto a wobbling, home-built canoe at the edge of a flooded river, gave me pause. Did I make a smart move?

My unsettled mind calmed the next few minutes as the two tribal men skillfully executed their self-assigned duties. I looked on in growing admiration.

These fellas know a thing or two about rivers. And of cargo management for home-built canoes.

The reflection in my head took form after I witnessed a donkey traversing those waters under the young men’s management, emerging at the opposite shore, her hee-haw still intact.

In a similar way I’ve found it often only takes a little observing to appreciate praiseworthy qualities in people – their dispositions, skill sets, personalities, their manner.

In this respect, Jesus has become my favorite subject in people-watching.

Indeed, he himself – this son of a blue-collar worker growing up in an unexceptional middle-eastern village – honed his own set of observing skills. Sharpening them as keenly as he did the carpentry tool finding its home in his saw-dust-sprinkled grip.

Engage

“Here, Yeshua, see how we mark the place just this side of the knot hole? This is where we cut the plank. Now, watch closely where I position the saw. . .” Papa Joseph patiently tutored the youngster, modelling for him the carpentry craft.

To excel at a thing – to move little by little into expertise – any person ever trained in a skill knows the drill.

Watch (observe) the trainer, listening, paying attention as they do their work
Imitate the manner and movements of the mentor while he looks on, coaches, corrects
Do the work – produce ‘fruit’ reflecting the quality of the master’s own workmanship and of his character

Jesus did this. Jesus trained his friends while adopting for himself role of trainee. Remarkable, really. The writer of Hebrews offers a pithy insight about Jesus, “He learned.”

Paul the apostle followed suit, the Damascus-road convert boldly recruiting others to ‘board his gospel canoe’:

“Follow me as I follow Christ.”

Become

I want to become like Jesus.

Through the years the yearning has ebbed and flowed in my deep interior.

Not in me alone. The cry is common to Christ-followers all around. Common because nothing else slakes our thirst for meaning. A cry because, at the core, this is our design. We are made for it – for apprenticeship to Jesus. Made to be formed into a likeness very much resembling him. In character. In life.

How does such a life-altering enterprise get underway?

My boyhood days growing up on a farm stirs a thought.