The air is warm and fragrant, the sky a glorious blue as we head for the car. Steve and I have just finished four days of prison ministry with a team of over forty people from all walks of life, a half dozen different denominations, ranging in age from twenty to eighty four. The prisoners with whom we have ministered are serving sentences from a few years to more than twenty five. Many have found Christ in prison, and when they worship, it is as powerful and heartfelt as you will find anywhere. It's pretty sobering, though.
I had committed to serving this weekend long before the Panama girls basketball team won sectionals and a trip to States. This win meant that their scheduled musical was postponed to... you guessed it: this weekend. I was on track to miss Izzy's debut in a lead role, Alex's solo, and Abi's participation in the chorus. I was fortunate to have been able to attend dress rehearsal. It wasn't quite the real thing, but close enough. Had I not done so, I would have been hard put to minister in prison and miss the performance.
Every man in prison is there for a reason. Each one committed a crime; some violent, some not. Many are there for felony DWI. Many have parents, wives, and children from whom they are separated, usually for years. Some of them are completely missing their children's childhood. I talked with a couple of men who have been in for over twenty years and have years to go. More than one spoke of never having experienced genuine love before.
Steve and I walked out into the sunshine and drove home to our wives. Before the week is over, we will see our grown children and hug our grandchildren. The men with whom we talked were not blaming anyone else for their incarceration. They freely acknowledged the choices they made that put them behind bars. One spoke of the daily joy and happiness he has, not because of where he is, but no matter where he is, because he is in Christ. He spoke to me of his wife and children who have been faithfully waiting for him. I wonder what kind of attitude I would have if at the end of the weekend I had to return to a cell instead of a home. I wonder how my life would have turned out had I been raised in the homes some of these men knew as little boys. I have been blessed beyond measure, and am eternally grateful tonight simply to end the day on the outside of those prison walls.
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