Fresh Lens

“Take Perspectives – it will ruin you for the ordinary!”

By the time Floyd McClung, author of ‘The Father Heart of God’, heralded the Perspectives challenge he and his wife Sally had for years lived an ‘Indiana Jones’ kind of existence. Their ground-breaking disciple-making ventures in Youth With A Mission in Kabul, Afghanistan and in the heart of Amsterdam’s red-light district yielded abundant fruit in radically changed lives.

My first learning of the fifteen-week ‘Perspectives on the World Christian Movement’ course came at the corner of our city’s Third and Zunis avenues. Outreach Pastor John McVay of Tulsa Christian Fellowship – a flagship church for missions in Tulsa – “accosted me” outside my office door.

“Hey Jerry, you might be interested in doing this course – three hours on Monday nights for the Spring months. You and fellow students will take in top-notch presentations on insights featuring cross-cultural outreach. And, you’re likely to get a deeper-than-ever picture of Biblical, historical, cultural and strategic Perspectives on reaching out to the world and making disciples.”

I showed up for my first class, and was soon “ruined for the ordinary”.

Perspectives struck such a chord that I afterward offered a confession to my friend, John. “Although I served in Africa missions for twenty years, a part of me feels like I have never been a missionary!” While the stark comment wasn’t far from the truth, rather than it leaving me bummed, the course fired me up more than ever for the ‘Great Commission’ enterprise.

Over time the Perspective’s series – compelling in both spirit and substance – has stretched its boundaries to regions across the world. A number of our ministry staff and volunteer teams gave themselves to the rigorous and rewarding task of plowing through those fifteen weeks.

Indeed, one of our busy student leaders ended up facilitating the full program himself in the heart of our campus. He and his wife afterward relocated their young family, at no small expense, to the heart of a major American metropolis far from their neighborhood roots. Immersing themselves in the language and culture of this “foreign ethnicity” has since been yielding spiritual and relational dividends. This young family, “ruined” by the seeking-and-saving nature of God’s lovingkindness, go about their daily lives fueled by a substance referenced by a writer long ago.

The love of Christ compels us.*

©2025 Jerry Lout                                                                         *2 Corinthians 5:14, Paul

Common Stirrings

Once, in my early days of shadowing Jim Tracy on campus, he invited me to join him for a Sunday visit to a church on Sheridan Avenue.

Asbury Methodist’s annual event, designed to spotlight Missions awareness for the congregation should be in full swing. And the church’s outreach director, Mary Ann Smith, whom I had never met was (I would learn) more than up to the task.

Once the last ‘amen’ of worship service sounded and the twin exit doors opened wide, scores of the faithful – families, couples, singles – poured onto the repurposed parking lot.

Worshippers were soon strolling in and out of roomy little tents assembled for the occasion. They moved along, stopping now and then, taking in the several missionary displays set up and manned by a ministry rep or two. The booths featured photos and artifacts brought from other lands. Intriguing.

At Mary Ann and her team’s invitation, a collection of meal vendors had rolled in their food trucks and set up serving tables. The festive environment saw interested believers exploring “the world beyond” while munching fast food cuisine. The setting lent itself to an easy exploration of global needs, extending opportunities for connecting in Christian outreach.

Months passed when one day I sensed a nudge to reach out to Asbury Church. I hoped to see if this missions-minded community would take an interest in “the world at our doorstep”, i.e. international students of the University of Tulsa.

I met with Mary Ann Smith.

Mary Ann listened with interest as I shared our dream of better serving college students coming here to the U.S. heartland from across the world. She paused a moment before offering her thoughtful, poignant response.

“You know, Jerry, it’s interesting you’re wanting to visit with us about this just now.”

I was all ears.

“For the past little while I have been mulling the question, ‘What role could our church play if an opportunity opened for us to serve the students of T.U.?”

©2025 Jerry Lout

 

The Qualifier

“God doesn’t call the qualified. He qualifies the called.”

It was a quote I had heard years before. Now, like small fragments of glowing embers in a fire pit being newly-roused by a stout breeze, the phrase was poised to ignite afresh. And just in time.

A lot of my life had been marked by self doubt. I fell short of one of those most desirable qualities (according to popular motivational speakers) for achieving success. Self-confidence. Oddly enough, the Christian tradition which had most shaped my spiritual life and worldview had been often given to bold and assertive, ‘you’ve got-this!’ declarations. “I can do all things…” “I am more than a conqueror…” And even, “Give me this mountain!” – a bold claim voiced by an 80-year-old, battle-scarred vet. Caleb. There was something beautiful about my growing- up years in such an upbeat climate of a believing community. Such confident, faith-fueled declarations (drawn straight out of sacred text) were even then serving to deepen in me a much-needed trust in God that could come into play way down the road. I was just not very aware of it.

 Hwy 169

Cruising along the busy Tulsa expressway one afternoon, I listened half-attentive to music pulsing through the car radio. I was at the moment right in the middle of head-talk.

“What an opportunity, international outreach right within the heart of Tulsa, Okla!” Countered by, “Right … but you? Really?” A voice inside my brain objected, then continued, “These are really bright scholars from across the world, many in advanced fields of the sciences. What do you know? What qualifies you?”

The music piece on the radio ended. In that moment, in the middle of my cerebral – emotional tug-of-war, the DJ’s voice broke in – “People don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.” I later heard that the poignant statement was traced to Theodore Roosevelt. Regardless, this was my first-ever time to take it into my ears.

Astonished is too mild a term. In that moment I was, as our British friends would put it, gobsmacked.

(c) 2023 Jerry Lout