ministry – Jerry Lout ⚬ Writer ⚬ Speaker ⚬ Mobilizer

November 7, 2024November 6, 2024

Happy Tears

For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named*

Until their December visit to Colorado’s Bear Trap Ranch, several of the students had never seen snow. We offered up simple tips on navigating snow and ice after witnessing through barely-concealed grins their earlier attempts at the challenge.

Each exhilarating day of broomball on ice, indoor table tennis, family group, (pretend) Olympic games, and mountain hikes would at last wind down with mealtime. This was followed by a Christian ‘talk’ presented by a guest speaker. Nate Mirza of The Navigators endeared himself to the community time after time.

Through a small library toward the gathering room we moved after dinner, passing beneath the mounted head of a large and quite imposing form. The taxidermied head of ‘Bruce The Moose’ was affixed to a strong interior wall, peering down like a sentry keeping watch over library shelves laden with their literary stock.

I reflect on those yearly wintry seasons together with other community-centered events in a wide range of settings where groups of international students meet with a blend of fellowship, service and faith. I am stirred by a mix of nostalgia and gratitude. Whether it’s Bear Trap Ranch, the Springtime Car Care Clinic, our Saturday night ‘Strings n’ Things’, or road trips to Branson or St. Louis or Houston. One element seemed always to mark these times. The sense of family.

The final day of Bear Trap’s ‘International Student New Years Houseparty’ arrived – accented by scores of students scurrying about, rushing to toss their luggage into a waiting car or van. And (more urgently) rushing to get in a last hug from another student or campus ministry sponsor – complete strangers seven days before. Emotions ran high and winter coat sleeves served as Kleenex substitutes to catch the occasional and abrupt stream of tears.

A casual passerby taking in the scene might readily sense a sacred movement in the way a touching piece of music can stir heartstrings. Seeds of friendship had found their way into fertile soil within a short span at Beartrap. And some had been drawn deeper and deeper into a tighter-than-ever, more settling than imaginable, family identity. Through one who stays closer than a brother*.

September 26, 2024September 25, 2024

September Assault

Entering the quaint cottage off 15th and Memorial that Tuesday of early Fall, I assumed the small gathering would feature ‘the usual’. But calendars across the land had silently announced the dawn of another day. September 11, 2001, would never be remembered as an ordinary day.

Inside the cottage I was met with hurried motions of unusually somber hosts, urging me to join them before a television screen. Scenes of billowing smoke boiling from upper floors of one of New York’s twin towers left our small prayer group sitting bewildered. Our attention was held captive. We sat transfixed, silent.

Then, in disbelief, our modest gathering witnessed in real time an action so horrific that it could not in those fleeting seconds be adequately taken in.

While TV reporters – as confused as any of their viewers – fired off excited guesses, we beheld the unthinkable. The approach of airliner number two. Then a great burst of flame. More smoke. More pandemonium. America was under attack.

The cottage, cozy residence of senior-age friends Merland and Ann Severson, served for years as venue for Tuesday morning gatherings. The informal meeting featured friendly chitchat, followed by thanksgivings, updates and prayer for the international student ministry.

While we, in this abrupt moment carried scant details on the chaos unfolding in New York, our little band of believers carried a knowing conviction of something very concrete, at a deep, profound level. If there were ever a time for the Lord’s praying people to engage, the time is here.

February 29, 2024February 28, 2024

A Calming Effect

Airport kiosks of the sparser variety often feature elevated circular tables so travelers can munch their edibles while standing. My new South Asia friend had moved to such a table, his modest lunch in hand. Adjusting his backpack, he had a glance around. Suddenly, he paused – shifting his gaze to the beverage in his hand.

No straw.

Taking in the customers around him, he realized all their drinks did include sipping straws, each one poised as if standing at attention within the respective drinks. The travel-worn student’s heart sank.

The kiosk attendant did not give me a straw, Dheeraj moaned inwardly. Surely it is because they do not like my being here. In this place. . . this country.

Reining in his gathering gloom, Dheeraj returned his focus to the checkout counter, noting the small stack of napkins from which he had earlier retrieved his own. He then noticed a newly served customer fetching one for himself. Turning, the gentleman pressed a finger to a metal device near at hand. From this device, a bright, fresh sipping straw magically appeared!

Relief washed over Dheeraj.

Ann and I flashbacked to our own skewed perceptions when arriving in Kenya as youngsters – our first foreign country of residence. Excitement and angst, wonder and trepidation ran the gamut, having a roller coaster field day. (Having grown up in an era of “Me Tarzan–You Jane” movies, I was half-surprised that our Jumbo Jet set down on paved tarmac, rather than a dirt landing strip!

In time our TU ministry team offered cultural orientation sessions for new arrivals coming in from abroad. We relished witnessing the ‘lights come on’, seeing anxieties dissipate even as we handed out copies of a perfectly-labeled booklet, How To Survive In The United States.

In time, opportunities arose where we could pass along treasured phrases from an ancient era, that proved as relevant today as at any time ever,

“Be anxious for nothing*. . . “Do not fear, I am with you**”

January 25, 2024January 24, 2024

Charlie Company

To love abundantly is to live abundantly, and to love forever is to live forever*.

It might be argued that Charlie Spear’s all-time-ever favorite term in the world is that over-spilling word – Abundant.

“Hey Charlie, how’s it going?”

“Abundant!”

“What was Christmas like with the kids and grandkids, Charlie?” “Abundant, bro, just abundant!”

Regardless the topic, the time of day, the weather forecast or just about anything else, the decades-long director of TU’s Wesley ministry rarely missed an opportunity to inject the ‘A’ word where any verbal exchange surfaced. Everybody loved him for it.

I would put his height at 6’ 2”, a full-bodied ponytail falling a good thirty inches toward his blue-jeaned waistline.

But neither his impressive height nor the distinctive ponytail nor the ever-present Abundant (that sat poised to break free from his larynx any second) fully explained the happy magnetism most friends and visitors sensed when entering the Wesley Foundation.

Long before I happened into this student center (christened after English Evangelist John Wesley) a vibrant spiritual garden for pointing students to Jesus had been planted and prayerfully tended. Charlie and team – all by their confession, ‘spiritual works-in-progress’ – had long since been leaning into Jesus, drawing on grace. The community remained stirred by a common passion. To know Christ and to make him known, as the Commons Room plaque asserted.

“So, Charlie”, I ventured after being the new ministry guy on campus a while, “the Wesley’s FNL (Friday Noon Lunch) serves the weekly meal here”. His arms in a relaxed cross, Charlie followed my ensuing proposal with apparent interest.

“What if our ministry – ISM – experimented with something similar, only focusing the efforts on serving international students.”

The Director seemed to warm to the notion as I wrapped up my pitch, which was being framed breath by breath,

“Maybe on Thursdays. But only one Thursday a month at first. We might call it FIL (Free International Lunch). Think that might work?”

When Charlie and his team gave the nod, the FIL was launched, my wife Ann orchestrating a volunteer kitchen staff and servers. We trusted heaven’s supply for funding.

Interest grew, appetites sharpened. The once-a-month international lunch (rice dishes never absent!) stretched to twice monthly. Our modest experiment with FIL took off. Eventually, every Thursday noon through the school year found students from across the world – most of non-believing backgrounds – filing to Wesley’s cozy basement dining hall. Nutritional cuisine for both body and spirit – found a pathway to a diverse array of scholars, graciously served up at the hands of cheerful hosts.

Week after week after week. Indescribable.

Abundant!

December 21, 2023December 20, 2023

Conundrum

During unsettling times, from the terrifying to the mild, a prevailing hope in many is to catch sight of some proverbial North Star.

For centuries and for throngs of people in numberless settings a wildly diverse company of pilgrims called Jesus followers, have centered and then re-centered their trust in this one person. The carpenter’s son. The Messiah. The Good Shepherd. . . (It seems interesting that a noteworthy feature of any credible shepherd is that he leads).

So, What now, Lord? The days going forward found me itching for resolution. With my mentor (Jim) now off the scene what am I to make of this teasing draw toward international student ministry. Am I to press forward along the intriguing but ill-defined road? Or, shall my wife and I – as advised by one pastor – suspend missions work altogether since we are not now overseas, “Take up pastoring”?

Day by day I kept being drawn to the student community. Apart from whether or not a ‘call from above’ was in the works, a couple factors loomed large.

Do I have what it takes? (Obviously, I was skating toward the ‘Lord, help my unbelief!’ zone)

Undertaking Christian service among a diverse company of university scholars from around the world (“the brightest and best” goes the phrase) would mean something far different than what I had known.

The other factor playing on my mind was the question, to whom or what would I hitch my faith wagon to? Until this point, New York’s Elim Fellowship had been serving as our overseeing body.

In the end, several answers to the puzzlements had already started making their way my direction. The surprising turn of events would mean the end of my two-fold conundrum:

With what group might God have in mind for us to work alongside?
Any chance my limited knowledge and experience could pass muster?