tents – Jerry Lout ⚬ Writer ⚬ Speaker ⚬ Mobilizer

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 intriguing 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 easy exploration of global needs, extending opportunities for connecting in outreach.

Months passed and 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 your 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.?”

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.

Tag: tents

Common Stirrings

Tents and Braces