presence – Jerry Lout ⚬ Writer ⚬ Speaker ⚬ Mobilizer

January 8, 2026

Best Ever

With the sure knowledge that the loving Trinitarian Presence is alongside us, we discover that partnering with God himself is life-giving. And indispensable, in the day-by-day process of spiritual transformation.

Scripture (as usual) helps us reset our internal compass – the Spirit aiding us with course-corrections at every needed juncture. “And the Lord—who is the Spirit—makes us more and more like him as we are changed into his glorious image”*

Now comes the other non-negotiable amidst our yearnings to see his ongoing favor bringing growth to our lives. We ask afresh, what again is the goal?

As members of the ragtag company of individuals that Jesus calls his disciples, we are not left to flounder. No one needs to feel they are “adrift at sea”. A disciple (apprentice to Christ) is anyone earnestly pursuing life with God in the ever-unfolding enterprise of growing to resemble Jesus more and more.

That essential (non-negotiable) element that is linked to our partnering with God is our engagement in practicing, or training.

If you are anything like me, a lot of yardage stretches out ahead between me and the finish line. On some days the goal post (representing a consistent resemblance to Christ) appears like a faint mirage far downfield. Welcome to the apprenticing life!

A wonderful and gratifying discovery in any persons’ forward movement – regardless of the amount of yardage gained – in Christian apprenticeship is this. We travel in the company of other pilgrims, guided along by the best-ever mentor.

Our Lord is patient and encouraging beyond words, our brilliant and gracious guide. He, Jesus, shows himself to be the best friend and companion one could hope for on any pilgrimage. Ever.

November 27, 2025November 26, 2025

Partnering Up

When a rightly-fitted yoke is slipped about the burden bearers’ neck, there’s no cause for angst if the team partner formed and sustains the cosmos.

God speaks of his beloved apprentices as those who help lift the load of their fellow travelers*. Yet, even when the added “baggage” may seem far more than one can handle, the burden is lessened to near feather-weight once a pair of useful elements are brought into play.

Partnering and Practicing.

When Jesus stated in his near matter-of-fact way, “Without me you can do nothing”, he actually meant it.

The moment a disciple of Christ comes to terms with their sheer inability to push forward beneath the strain of a load, this is the kind of moment the Lord relishes. Why? Because he knows it is at just those times when we’ve run out of gas or we’ve run dry or we’re about to run for the hills, that we are most ready for his partnering to kick in. God never has meant for us to labor and toil for him from our feeble strength nor out of a straining fortitude.

Jesus calls us friends.

What are friends about? A friend shows up. A friend partners with us amidst our most desperate, most crushing seasons. Their quiet presence alone is often enough.

A friend is also one who knows how to laugh with us, long and hard. Tears flow. They spring this time not from sorrowings – but from sheer, unimpeded, pull-out-the-stops delight over some surprise happening or experience. Possibly through a side-splitting joke, or from one of those shared memories that suddenly blindsides the funny bone.

On the recent birthday-Monday, along an Okmulgee street I was in the midst of a small company of friends sharing a sweet moment of laughter. Not of the knee-slapping kind but one of the kind that leaves the heart strangely warmed. Our little band had just taken part in a short prayer-walk in the “bubbling brook” city of my youth, when somebody caught word it was my birthday. A melodic voice struck a chord. The springy melody was underway, “Happy birthday to you. . . !”

Friends praying – and singing – and laughing. Flowing from the Spirit of the dearest Friend ever.

August 10, 2023

Super Model

Our role model, Jesus, was intentional at the start of his mornings, carving out space and time to personally give himself to the direct presence of the Father. We in our day might label this as his quiet time. Regardless, the action was predictable. Conversing with God is a thing he looked forward to, this life rhythm of communion.

Inhaling and exhaling air is an activity we (as did Jesus) practice a lot while seldom ever consciously thinking about it. Breathing comes automatically. In his repeated ‘practice’ of meeting with God upon his daily risings, Jesus had grown to ‘automatically’ pray. Not robotically, as in responding to external commands, but meeting with his Abba Father as a much-beloved offspring. He (unlike me whose mind far too easily might get hijacked by distraction) purposely – eagerly? – pushed aside the many lesser attractions vying for attention.

Nothing going on around Jesus on any given occasion commanded his attention more than nearness to Abba. Communing with the father trumped all.

The Spirit of Jesus invites us, his beloved apprenticing friends, to this same lifestyle he enjoyed while navigating the many winding, hilly terrains of earth’s pilgrimage. He really does.

Christlike living, simply put, involves prayer-centered living.

Jesus’s predictable beginning-of-day habit of prayer was no less familiar to him than his other common practices – breakfasting, teeth-cleaning, sandal-strap latching.

Doesn’t it seem reasonable that apprentices of Jesus are those persons who regularly apply themselves in patterning their lives after him? In dependence on him, routinely employing those practices that clearly marked his own life rhythms.

Summing up. It is not complicated. The call of the disciple is to,

(1) Engage the common practices that he, the son of man, routinely undertook

(2) Often ask Jesus for his help in putting in place a practice (such as prayer in its varied forms)

(3) Mark out a space where, upon waking each new day, the practice gets underway.

Remember. The disciple is not one who faultlessly follows, but one who follows the faultless One. Receiving from his table generous servings of grace at every step.

May 12, 2015August 28, 2017

Tents and Braces

In the Summer of 1949 sounds of homespun music, clapping hands and shouts of Amen ascended into the night at the north end of our town. A tent meeting was underway.

Things about tents fascinate me. My mother-in-law’s Danish mom – Grandma Sadie – called up memories as a settlers’ daughter. People from Denmark are evidently tough. The family spent their first winter in Montana living in a tent. Sadie’s beguiling reflection, “but it was a pretty mild winter” prompted a reflection of my own; ‘there can be no such thing as a mild winter in Montana – in a tent.’

In my adult years, while living in a tropical region, I bought a weathered six-man camping tent. A patch in the roof presumably marked the spot where the tusk of an elephant punctured the dwelling. The agitated mammal, I was told, raised the edge of the tent off the ground before moving on.

In the ‘1940s and ‘50s open tents seated fifty to a hundred people and served the purposes of transient American preachers. Our visiting preacher, a lady minister oversaw with the aid of her husband, the tent’s inauguration on a vacant lot. A sawdust floor, wooden folding chairs, worn hymnals and a guitar or perhaps accordion completed the setting. The tent’s older visitors kept hand-held fans in easy reach. The preaching was Bible-centered, the messages vigorously delivered, the singing pulsing with strength.

Clyde and Thelma began attending the meetings with my sister, brother and me in tow. The music, preaching and testimonials seemed to usher in the Presence. The family never tired of experiencing the nearness of God in the company of other Jesus followers.

After a few weeks of conducting meetings the minister and her husband felt drawn to remain in our Northeastern Oklahoma town. They rented a vacant building. The Living Way Tabernacle became our church home.

After the polio experience my left leg was fitted with a knee to shoe brace. In my fifth year the brace came off for good. I was active without it and, lacking the benefit of therapy coaches in that era, my folks simply retired the brace. My limp became a little more pronounced from that time.

Support structures and supportive people. Good things to have in our lives. They are wonderfully provided (some would say from above) to help meet real needs, to make up the lack. It’s true that personal betterment can sometimes actually be hindered through over-support. That is, when a kind of assistance or a certain level of it is no longer appropriate.

Still, help is needed by all of us, through all of life. Different types of help and in differing amounts, for different seasons. Prematurely withdrawing support (as with braces) may damage or hinder progress along a road to wellness. Or, at least, better mobility.

I fell in love at age five. Her name was Opaline. She was beautiful. Even in braces. . Especially in braces.

April 21, 2015August 28, 2017

A Sure Hope

The mourners dispersed. The flower-dotted cemetery reverted to its earlier stillness. Thelma almost whispered her words.

What is it, Dovie? This Presence. It’s inside me. . in gentle waves. What is this goodness and this . .safety I feel?

Thelma’s question hung in the air. The shadow of a Canary Island Palm stretched across the lawn before them.

She was hungry for answers. This utter absence of her earlier grief astonished her. She hoped that the extraordinary calm would somehow remain. Yet she feared it may take flight. Could she carry on?

Dovie, will this peace, or the source of it, be near again if I (she corrected herself) when I need it?

More questions. She had many and voiced most of them to Dovie over coming weeks.

Dovie was not a person of complicated notions or grand explanations. She waited. As she sensed a thought forming that brought clarity she pondered it, then offered a response. Otherwise she remained still. Prayerful.

The God that Dovie came to know and to love was real. And he was the giver of the Book. She knew that answers for questions that actually mattered were linked to the precious book. The pages of her own Bible showed uncommon signs of wear. It attested to truth. And to God’s presence.

“All I know, Thelma, is Jesus is real. It’s him. He’s the presence.” Her words were simple, uncomplicated. Dovie responded in this way it seemed every time. Always highlighting Jesus.

How do I get him. . have him in my life, Dovie? Can I? I don’t want to be without the hope. I need Jesus.

“Just say that to him, dear. Give him your heart. Surrender to him your whole life. Let him begin to take over. He’s listening. He doesn’t turn anybody away.”

Thelma yielded. As much as she knew how to. Shortly afterward Clyde kneeled, giving himself over to God’s care. Both of them were ready. They sensed it keenly. They needed God’s presence.

They were comforted too, that he understood the pain of releasing a son to the grave. Neither understood a lot of their salvation. They didn’t worry themselves over it. They just believed, and trusted.

Clyde and Thelma entered a new kind of life. Striding forward in faith, limping at times. In love. And hope.

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