Tag: scripture

Posted on

A Family Of Words

Closing my eyes, the simple, melodic sounds of kindergartener voices waft in from a season of long ago. I ponder particular bundle of lyrics we Sunday School kids belted out lots of times in those early years. Intuitively we somehow knew that the lines carried life-altering truth – “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so”.

A phrase or two follows the first. Today I realize that way back then I had started a lifelong journey affirming a profound truth drawn from those stanzas.

I am weak but he is strong.

Piano keys sounded in the modest sanctuary on Oklahoma Street. Vacation Bible School Week had arrived!

For the first time most kids in the room are catching glimpses into a brand new kind of worldview, Jesus loves (all) the little children of the world. They are – every one of them – precious in his sight.

Hans Christian Andersen treasured music’s power, “Where words fail, music speaks.”

Yet, one specially-compiled family of words does not fail. Not to the person whose mind and spirit are open to take them in. The words of scripture. Although ancient in origin, this unique collection of prophetic, historical, poetic works embody a power. A power which today and throughout history transforms people. . . and even times and cultures.

As I (among the millions of others) undertook memorizing Bible verses in my early years and following, I became struck by its life-changing power from the inside out. Not by any magical quality or spooky spell, but because its content is traced not to mere human origin.

I have always been an amateur memorizer at best. But scripture concepts like, I hide your words in my heart so that I may not be habitually given to wrongdoing, find a way of sticking. I find that such passages transport power straight into the soul that chooses to marinate within the ancient text. Inspiration bubbles up of the kind beyond the sheer rah-rahs of the athletic court or stadium. The ancients, I believe, had it profoundly right.

May I encourage the reader. Pursue the Bible. Seek out a community (if it is not currently your practice) that loves God. A gaggle of imperfect seekers, hungry and thirsty, strong after his Word.

For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thought and intentions of the heart.*

©2023 Jerry Lout                                                                                *Hebrews 4:12

Posted on

Recall

Of things I prized in my Bible college years, nothing matched the volume of raw text Mr. J. Andrew Freeborn had us ingest. Coaxing everyone to scripture memorization. Unforgettable.

The Romans course found every student rehearsing countless times Chapters Eight and Twelve. Their combined verses came to sixty. While for some sixty verses could seem a modest number, for youth whose minds ‘til now had snared only a handful of memorized passages, the challenge was daunting.

And when it came to the Ephesians course. It was another thing yet.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen”, Mr. Freeborn had raised his voice against the stirring of papers and shuffling of classroom furniture as we took our seats.

“Today we move into Ephesians, a letter Paul wrote from captivity, within a prison cell. It’s broken into six full chapters. I am here to make a pledge today, a promise to each and any of you taking this course.” Pausing, he scanned the room, waiting until all eyes turned his way.

“Memorize the book and here is my pledge. Commit to memory its body of text and you will be graded an ‘A’ for the entire course. You’ll gain your ‘A’”, he emphasized, “regardless how you perform on exams or how your assignments turn out.

“So I challenge you, I welcome you. Commit to memory all this book, reciting it to me at the end of this semester. You will have your perfect mark for the course.” He paused. “Agreed?”

Heads nodded.

Several students gave the challenge their best, myself among them. A hundred fifty-five verses numbering three thousand twenty-two words. Although a few came close, none of us hit our instructor’s mark. But the exercise carried its own reward. Mr. Freeborn knew it would – rich beyond our imaginations. Ephesians captivated us – endeared itself to us.

In the end several of us actually did earn an ‘A’. . . devoting to the enterprise many late nights. . . and gallons of black coffee.
©2017 Jerry Lout

Posted on

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

Posted on

Desire

Desire comes with being human.  

The moment I launched as a newborn – right from the birth canal – I fought for air. Nothing going forward in life would ever trump the urgency of this one desire. Once my hunger for oxygen was met and my lungs were assured that there was more on the way, a second desire was born. I craved food.

And once I gulped in my first samplings of milk – catching it’s flavor and texture – my infant body had no problem calling for seconds. And anytime the beverage I craved for thereafter was out of reach, I knew it. No one needed to convince me. Like James Dashner wrote*.

“I felt her absence. It was like waking up one day with no teeth in your mouth. you wouldn’t need to run to the mirror to know they were gone”

I write this sitting in a bagel shop next to a couple making conversation.

“What would you say is your passion?” she asked.

The guy’s response sounded muffled due to the Christmas music streaming through my ear buds. That didn’t matter. Her question, though, did matter. It matters to us all, What would you say is your passion?

Of the many desires, hungers, passions that surface in our lives, none trumps something we might call the desire of the heart. We may come to know what it is our heart desires or we may not know.

But every heart desires one thing in common, a thing that is not tangible. Something deep. Grand and even eternal. What we so hunger is real – the most real thing ever – even though it could seem elusive.

We yearn for eternity. And the Being behind it. C. S. Lewis gives us an insight,

If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.

Desirables on this planet crowd the avenues of our lives, forming an endless parade. We feel the magnetic pull toward some attractions more than others. A few may inspire and energize us. We sample the object we’re drawn to and it feels right. An appetite, or desire, can carry such a pull that sensory language must be employed to capture its power. Athletes savor the taste of victory or suffer a bitter defeat.

My Norwegian friend, Oddvar Naustvik found a stirring of desire and nurtured it. Oddvar wanted to successfully compete in an iron-man triathlon.

Another friend, Robello Samuel of India, pursued his desire – to gain expertise in the field of drilling wells.

From the time Cody Stinnett could tap his foot to the rhythm of music he yearned to excel as a percussionist.

Still another friend, young Elizabeth Miles, longed to tackle and master a language.

Each desire is lofty, some even noble. How attractive still is the hungering after ‘another world’, as Lewis suggests. The world for which we’re most rightly suited.

Such desire is withheld from noone. Curious thought. The sensory language of scripture invites,

Taste and see.

©2017 Jerry Lout             *The Scorch Trials. J Dashner