Heaven – Jerry Lout ⚬ Writer ⚬ Speaker ⚬ Mobilizer

November 2, 2023November 4, 2023

Sweet The Sound

I was not well prepared for it, seeing my father in this state.

Since my last in-person visit with him five months prior, the ugly villain Mesothelioma had altered the physical frame of this good man I called Dad.

The disease, spawned and fueled through years of exposure to asbestos would rob yet another household of yet another industrial craftsman before their time.

I was thankful for the good people of Hospice, seeing to it that Dad’s heart desire would be realized. Of spending his final days under the same roof at home with my mom, his wife of 57 years.

Herself weakened through added hardships of her own, my mother had grown unable to see to Dad’s needs on the off days between Hospice visits.

That large host of adult children whose role ultimately involves the care of an ailing parent comprises a sector of humanity occupying a precious, even sacred, space. Arranging now a mattress and bedding on the carpeted floor alongside Dad’s bed I was entering such a space. Difficult as some moments became, I afterward reflected on the special honor God had truly afforded me.

Music helped.

Taking up a spot on a simple stool at my father’s bedside I settled in with an acoustic guitar. The sessions of strumming and offering up melodies from yesteryear ignited a spark of life all their own. I sensed my dad’s heart being sweetly moved. Even as potent pain meds would escort him again and again to either edge of consciousness, musical pieces themselves introduced to the soul their own unique medicinal properties. Each of his favored set of lyrics – several he had been heard humming during my childhood – were, I prayed, bringing him an added measure of peace. The Old Rugged Cross – Victory in Jesus – Amazing Grace.

The folks specializing in personality types would classify me as melancholic. Occasionally, sitting perched on the guitar stool, I caught my mind projecting forward. Should the passing of my own closing days be drawn out over a bit of time, someone might think to flavor up the environment, smuggle a little music into the room.

In the company of sacred sounds, dad lay quiet. Soon he would begin bridging the divide, with God. Heaven songs to receive him.

June 15, 2023June 14, 2023

George On My Mind

Peace lives on the street called Surrender.

When he shared of his Sarcoma cancer diagnosis, George offered up a request, “Please ask people not to pray for total healing as I really am looking forward to heaven.”

What moves a person to make such an appeal? What routine rhythms of living might bring a man or woman to approach their final months and days with such a mindset?

People who knew George Verwer well understand that these are reasonable questions. And that their answers are within reach. Our attention gets captured when we witness a person displaying what seems complete inner calm when facing distressing news.

George had, through the years, related accounts of his mischief-making days as a youth growing up in New Jersey. He spoke, as well, of a neighbor woman who felt compassion for him in his waywardness and of her commitment in regularly praying for him. The neighbor’s teenage son gifted George a copy of a Bible text, the Gospel of John.

Not long afterward he found himself on a bus en route to Madison Square Garden where he would hear a young preacher offering sermons.

Responding to Billy Graham’s invitation to “turn your life over to the Lord Jesus”, young George came to faith. From there, he went on to proclaim Jesus’ good news of God’s kingdom. Today thousands of obedient Christ-followers staff a worldwide organization he founded, Operation Mobilization. Distributing the Bible and Christian literature became a fervent passion for George.

Among the first pieces of literature he read after his conversion was Billy Graham’s, “Peace With God”. In his ‘yes’ to the Lord as a 16-year-old, the youth had opened himself to God’s peace. Then, throughout his long and often-challenging lifetime, he gave himself over and over to routine surrenderings. Rhythms of practices. Spiritual disciplines.

George’s rhythms of living, all in the companionship of the Holy Spirit, marked him as a man of joyful contentment – a follower and lover of Jesus. Unafraid, even in death.

May 18, 2023May 18, 2023

Of Being Owned

Living our lives day by day in closeness to Jesus calls for desire. And intention.

Just like any healthy marriage motoring right into the sunset years, both parties – the man and the woman – make numberless small but significant choices. All along the journey each of them has grown into the habit of offering up expressions of worth and honor, the one to the other. This is the nature of what the Father had in mind in the covenant relationship – man wedded to the woman, woman wedded to the man.

In similar manner, the intentional and deliberate follower of Christ routinely offers up to him both actions and words. Expressions of love are core. It is this that sets the disciple apart. The casual Christian, meanwhile, may content himself with an occasional nod to a religious creed.

Priorities

That boy or girl, man or woman who’s growing in Christ is assured of belonging to him. They do not fear losing the relationship. Jesus their savior has redeemed them from the old kingdom of ego where Self sat perched atop the me-centered throne of the heart.

While secure in his everlasting hope, the disciple set on Christlikeness is one who is not content to merely qualify for the ‘someday upward flight’ to the afterworld. The apprentice counts the value tag of his life as a thing reflecting a far more expansive aim. While the afterlife destination means much to him, the love-smitten apprentice aspires less to owning heaven than to being owned by heaven.

July 9, 2015August 28, 2017

A closer Friend

The young woman beamed. Stepping to the podium she almost sang the announcement.

Ladies, listen up. You are all invited to Friday night’s baby shower for, Jerry Lout!

My brother’s wife Geri – pronounced ‘Jerry’ – would soon be giving birth to their first child, Todd Benjamin Lout. Excited female voices rippled through the Chapel while the elbow of a buddy seated next to me found it’s target. My ribcage flinched as he teased, I hadn’t heard the news, Jerry. . . and you’re not even showing!

After high school and a stint of vocational training Tim had begun work as a draftsman in southwestern Oklahoma. He met Geri there. She became the love of his life.

The Lout brothers moved with our brides to San Antonio within the year of our respective weddings – that occurred just two weeks apart. Each of us felt God’s call to service – not sure what that really meant. Our first stint at training came at International Bible College.

Though my brother modeled gentleness and goodness, Tim saw early on that his heart wasn’t at home in God – a form of limping common to all at some point. He needed rescuing, needed what the Bible calls training in righteousness.

Clinging to news of a real Savior coming for him at great personal cost, he yielded his life over to Jesus Christ.

A draftsman concerns himself with two things – construction and its detail. Tim’s draftsman-to-minister shift was logical. Wherever he served as pastor, as counselor or friend, he brought his heart. Each person counted, and their unique concerns (detail). He also built people, aiding their progress in spiritual formation (construction). Leaning into Christ he entered broken lives of others patiently. In faith. With compassion. Among those was Karena, who attests with tender frankness, He saved my life. Karena – the bride of Todd Benjamin Lout.

Once when he was little Tim swallowed a roofing nail. Almost. An image of this is branded in my memory.

Six-year-old Timmy suspended head-downward, his ankles secure in our daddy’s grasp. Shake. Shake. Third shake. The nail bounced twice on the living room floor. Breathing resumed – for Tim and the rest of us.

Memories from childhood can rekindle pain or con prompt feelings of remorse. But some memories, thankfully, evoke humor, warmth, smiles.

Seeing young Tim recklessly bounce along, approximately straddling a runaway Shetland Pony.
Witnessing his just-opened, warm Dr. Pepper explode upward – redecorating our kitchen ceiling. Followed by his self-conscious chuckle. . . (Tim never outgrew his chuckle).
Regaling his mimics of Inspector Clouseau . . .
Teaching himself, then me, guitar. And singing. Lots of Singing – carrying actually through all his lifetime.

The abdomen pain started in his sixth decade near a birthday. Tests followed. Procedures were scheduled, pancreas surgery undergone. And chemotherapy. The regimen blurred the calendar. Praying people prayed. Cards and calls came in.

The decline advanced. His wife summoned Hospice Care. Geri primarily attended him, at times with the aid of my RN wife, Ann and me.

The end drew near, his promotion looked close at hand and the family was conflicted over a likely parting. Family members hurt seeing family members hurt.

An early afternoon I brought a stool to his bedside and took his hand once more. He seldom spoke now. But with eyes still closed, his lips formed the half-sentence and he sounded the words clearly,

There is a friend who sticks closer. . . Just that. A partial sentence.

Yes, Tim.

I completed the verse from Proverbs he began. It would be the final exchange between us.

Yes. . Closer than a brother, Tim. And he is here for you and he’s here for me.

He had asked if I would officiate a service should it be needed.

I would be honored. Meanwhile we keep looking to the Father.

I rose early Saturday, July 10, 2010. Heaven had received my brother home four days earlier. This morning we would worship God and celebrate Tim’s life.

I made my way to the coffee maker in the kitchen. Reentering my sleeping quarters I reviewed some notes. The room was still. I was reflective.

Consulting the ancient scripture for solace or wisdom never disappointed, I thought. Opening my One Year Bible I had brought from Oklahoma I turned to this day’s reading. July 10.

My breath caught slightly. Familiar words – especially of recent days – tenderly seized me from the page. They embraced my heart. Of all the Scripture verses – tailored by a random editor of a random Bible-reading program. I double-checked the reference and the date. Yes, this is for today:

There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother Proverbs 18.24

I savored its special message a moment longer. For myself. For all who would take it in. And looked upward.

Thank you, Father. Thank you for Jesus. Thank you for my brother. Tim.

To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord 2 Corinthians 5