travelers – Jerry Lout ⚬ Writer ⚬ Speaker ⚬ Mobilizer

January 22, 2026January 21, 2026

A Growing Proposition

Since partnering with God through the Holy Spirit is the only way for growth to happen in our walk, we depend upon his aid. His presence is vital at every step. Even as we engage in the spiritual practices day by day and hour by hour. If we only practice and do not partner, we flounder. Like a sailboat with a rudder but no sail.

As God walks with us in the broader community of fellow-travelers, he – like a mountain guide – leads the way. We enter into the study, noting the ways of the one whom we most wish to emulate. Our enrollment is into the school of practicing his presence. And, as with all purposeful apprentices, we stick close with our trainer.

In this instance we are immeasurably blessed that our trainer is far more than classroom lecturer. We do attest, without reserve, that Jesus’ wisdom and his instructional content remain unmatched. Yet, he – by his presence in the person of the Spirit – walks alongside us, leads the way ahead of us, and companions us as Friend.

A Voice among Many

The earlier-mentioned mentor and friend to many, Dallas Willard is one voice among a centuries-long train of scholarly pilgrims steeped in God’s reality. Willard understood well the term personal transformation. He was a marathoner. Leaning in, day by day into an ever-unfolding, transformative and fruit-bearing life.

Dallas had chosen the path he referenced as the “with-God” life. He, along with fellow pilgrims had embraced the word disciple at its face value. Just as Jesus intended. The title of Willard’s biography*, compiled and published after his 2013 passing, strikes to the heart of the marathon nature of holy change.

All sincere apprentices – young or old, refined or uncultured, Asia or Global South – are persons who have been caught up into the life of God. Christlikeness is the call, a vocation worth aspiring to and of pursuing one’s whole journey long. Disciples are people ruined for anything less. Their eyes are set on a person, not a philosophy, a religion or good vibes.

Their goal is a worthy one, and it is certain. They are a people becoming.

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.

April 11, 2017August 28, 2017

Airport Angst

I was sorting British currency at one of earth’s busiest airports when my two-year-old girl vanished.

Amy had stood quietly at my side seconds ago as I made a kiosk purchase. In a quick, awkward 360 degree swirl I scanned what I could of this piece of Heathrow’s bustling throng. Amy! My little girl was no where in sight.

We had flown here from Nairobi, Kenya. Our family’s connecting flight to the U.S. would receive passengers in a couple hours. I sprinted the short distance to my wife, Ann, and the two older children. Because of a fractured toe from the day before, Ann could only stay seated, her leg out before her with the bandaged foot resting atop a lower piece of luggage.

“Julie! Scott!” They jumped to action when told their little sister had disappeared – striking off in directions indicated by my commando-like hand signals. I took in the many and varied images of travelers, their luggage pieces trailing behind like obedient pets. Nationalities and languages from all parts. My eyebrows furrowed. Some 75 million travelers pass through London’s Heathrow yearly. Lord. Where? Where can she be? Help us, Lord.

My movements were a vigorous, graceless waltz, craning this way and that, continuously turning, specially scoping for signs of ‘little people’.

Seconds felt like minutes, minutes like hours.

In something over five minutes the airport’s public address system gave a pop, then hummed to life. The voice was male.

It was even. Strong. Indisputably English. Voices have a way of projecting personality. The person back of this voice was clearly gentle and good-humored.

“Heathrow travelers, I would like your attention, please.” The din of luggage casters clacking and shoes clicking and people clamoring only barely faded as the announcer went on. “Ladies and gentlemen, it seems we have a young lady, an Amy-BethLout (he blended the middle and last names to sound as one, sparing himself the awkwardness perhaps of associating the unflattering term ‘lout’ with any of his esteemed airport guests.) Regardless, the gentle, good-humored security fellow had got my attention. “Thank you, Lord”, I breathed.

It seems Amy had become sort of spellbound, taking in the grand throng of men and women and children. And their pigmentation. Since her East Africa birth only a tiny fraction of people she had seen had a skin color common to her own. Absentmindedly, after a mere few steps, she had drifted into the river of humanity.

Now I was holding her in a close hug.

”So Amy, tell us, how did you get to the nice man with the microphone?”

“Well,” she swayed back and forth slightly, “after awhile I looked around and I couldn’t see you anymore.” An old man with probably his wife was near to me. So I reached up and pulled down on his jacket. He looked at me and I said, “Do you know my daddy?” And so they got me back to you.

Her smile was unlabored, spontaneous, wonderfully naïve. “I’m glad we found each other daddy.”

I smiled back, only now aware my heart rate had begun normalizing again.

“I am too, Amy.” I hugged her again. “Really glad.”