Tag: leopard

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Help

Seeing all things about us put right over time. . .

Who wouldn’t opt for such a prospect? Frankly, though, many of us in our quest for quick solutions might be less than euphoric over the ending couple of words there – over time.

Ralph Waldo Emerson offered a thoughtful if somewhat annoying perspective, “People wish to be settled; only as far as they are unsettled is there any hope for them”.

I once got left alone in a forsaken dry riverbed in the heart of Africa’s wild game country. Night had set in. I was on foot and fighting distressing questions about whether I would get out in one piece or be eaten by a leopard or some other carnivorous beast. Being unarmed and at the mercy it seemed of whatever may come my way, I called up by a pure act of will and perhaps a trace of faith, a string of verses from the Old Testament.

Assured from earlier times that the passage (Psalm 91) bore reliable truths and had come ‘God-breathed for his people in times of crisis, I began quoting them as best as I was able. After some moments as I trekked through sand hoping somehow for a safe exit, voicing scripture as I went, a great, unexpected quiet settled down over me. My mind no longer raced. Nor, it seemed, did my pulse.

Throughout my years in various kinds of settings – few of which competed with the riverbed episode for high drama – a conviction has grown within me. A priceless gift comes our way from the hand of a gracious God – the gift of growing disillusioned with ourselves.

Centuries-old histories from inside and outside the church offer up loads of evidence that people simply cannot tackle and conquer every vice or resistance that comes their way.  Even religious people.

Someone from outside ourselves must make himself present as rescuer, as advocate.

Thankfully (yes, we keep returning to it) someone has come.

©2022 Jerry Lout

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South C

Never in my life had I known a neighborhood whose name was plucked from a string of alphabet symbols.

The two cars arriving from the airport – one transporting us, the other our luggage – eased up to Maxwell’s South C home.

Their house itself sat hidden behind a stonework wall, like a shy maiden part-concealed back of a fortress of vines. And vines there were, in abundance. Bougainvillea – their rich array of petals – pinks, purples, oranges, reds garnishing much of the ‘C’ neighborhood. Ray Troyer back in San Antonio had put into my hands my first-ever 35mm camera, a second-hand Voigtlander. What beauty these flowers could show on a slide. If I can just remember Ray’s coaching how to use the thing.

“Jerry and Ann”, Jenny called out, “we’re off to Sunday morning church”. “You folks just relax. . . sleep a bit if you can. . . you’ve travelled far and long. After service we shall come collect you and we’ll go together for lunch. Good?” Weariness, having indeed caught up with us, we readily agreed. After all, this was Sunday right, a day of rest?

What would our first meal in Africa be. . . and exactly where? The question hadn’t crossed our minds. Had we given it a thought we might have assumed we would dine under a long-grass roof within a mud hut.

Entering Nairobi’s Hilton we shook our heads trying to get them around this scenario. The new and somewhat naïve American couple exited the hotel’s café an hour later having happily feasted on sandwiches and fries. ‘Chips’ Jerry, I coached myself. Fries aren’t ‘fries’ here, they’re ‘chips’.

So our first day entering Africa, a living tutorial had essentially greeted us. If formalized, an academic title might have been posted: ‘Kenya. Background and Culture 101’. This was a beautiful land of contrasts. . . rich and impoverished, tradition-steeped and cutting-edge, conflicted and united. It sobered us that we hadn’t begun to learn and it inspired us that we could start now. Here at tourism’s iconic Hilton Hotel, walking-distance from one of Africa’s largest slums – Mathare Valley.

A voice with an accent I was hearing more often called over to me. New Zealanders carried the nickname Kiwi, after the national symbol, a bird common to their Islands. “Eva needs electrical wiring put in at her Mashuru place”, offered John. “So I’ll head out there Tuesday. The job should take a couple days. . . Like to come?”

“Sure”, I piped. Getting away from the big city and out to the ‘real Africa’ would be fun, I thought. Maybe even a thrill.

Walking unarmed and alone through leopard country had not crossed my mind.

©2017 Jerry Lout

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Psalm Power

Passing on foot through African wildlife terrain is not advised, especially if unarmed. More especially if unarmed and alone – and after dark.

Try as I may, I couldn’t shut my mind to a growing parade of frightful images. . . a Cape Buffalo lifting its’ great head, sniffing the night air to catch my scent. . . a deadly viper lying unseen on the darkened sand before me. More fearful than these I imagined a Leopard. Strong. Ferocious. A chill passed through me “seeing her” – mid-flight in her leap my direction this moment, her great claws and teeth bared.

Though I was walking fast I knew my heart-beats were outpacing my footsteps. This panic must stop. Get control, Jerry.

. . .Call up Scripture.

The thought came strongly yet in calmness – as from a voice inside bearing an authoritative, consoling tone. Pressing my mind to respond, I willed myself past the taunting images and began mentally scrolling phrases, long at home in my memory. I paused at the great hymnal of Scripture – the Psalms.

Yes, I breathed, Psalm 91. It was a favorite. . . and clearly suited to the moment.

Psalm 91. Long anchored in history as a rich piece of literature. I needed Psalm 91. Needed heart messages found there. Crisp, Bold. Assuring. My lips framed familiar words one by one and my mouth found its voice. Keeping up my brisk pace, I called the phrases out toward a starry canopy above.

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. . .

 I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.

 Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.

 He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler. . .  Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day. . .

I continued my quoting, gaining courage, as if an old, half-asleep conviction were being stirred awake. Even my heartbeat seemed to be moving to a more natural rhythm . . .

 A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.

. . .thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation;

 There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.

 For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.

 They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.

By now a boldness had risen from somewhere, surprising me in its force. I sensed a shift in confidence.

Peace seems inadequate a term to describe the near-tangible sense of well-being that followed, settling all about me. A change had come, powerful, real. I was free of fear. Free.

Stronger than ever I voiced the next phrase of the Psalm,

 Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet.

At this I actually smiled, aware that my super-hasty march had slowed. I whispered, Thank you, Lord, You didn’t bring me to Africa to feed me to the big cats, or poison me by a cobra strike. Thank you! 

Moments passed quickly. I navigated the river’s long bend – still sweetly calmed – and soon, with near giddiness, I spotted the object I had pursued for such a long time it seemed – a small vehicle of uniquely German design.

The bug sat well out of the riverbed, its’ headlights revealing the murram track ahead. Pointing home.

Because he hath set his love upon me. .   He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble;        I will deliver him, and honor him.

©2017 Jerry Lout