Prison Without Guards

"By His blood your sins are forgiven." ~ Ephesians 1:7

Prisons by nature are unpleasant places.  You’d think that after over 30 years in prison ministry, Charles Colson (ex-Watergate felon and founder of Prison Fellowship - a global ministry for prisoners, ex-cons and their families) had seen it all.

So when he visited Brazil’s Humaita Prison he expected the worst.  Prisons in developing countries are notoriously filthy, dangerous and neglected.  Inmates maintain order in the form of rigid, gang-controlled hierarchies where brutality rules.

But when Colson visited Humaita, he was struck by its cleanliness and openness.  The cells were orderly; beds neatly made.  Security was completely compromised - no armed guards or high walls.  Instead, it’s run on Christian principles of love of God and respect for each other.

Once a federal penitentiary, it’s now operated as an alternative prison with but 2 full-time staff.  The rest of the work is done by the 700+ inmates serving time for everything from murder and assault to robbery and drug-related crimes.

Every man is assigned another inmate to whom he’s accountable.   Additionally, each prisoner is assigned a volunteer mentor from the outside who works with him during his term and after his release.  Prisoners take classes on character development and are encouraged to participate in educational and vocational training.

But the heart of Humaita’s success is its faith-faith based approach.  The prison is not limited to Christian inmates.  But you couldn’t stay there very long without coming to know Christ.

During his visit, Colson attended a chapel service where several inmates told how they’d been ‘saved.’  Many had already made restitution for their crimes.  When an inmate enters Humaita, his shackles are removed and he’s told, “Here, your heart is handcuffed by love, and you’re watched over by God.”

After the church service, Colson’s guide asked if he’d like to see the ‘punishment’ room - a dark, narrow cell once used to subdue disruptive prisoners.  He further explained that the cell now holds only one prisoner.

When the heavy steel door swung opened, Colson wasn’t overcome by the stench of sweating bodies … but the whiff of fresh flowers.  An altar graced one end of the room.  Above it hung a carving of Jesus on the cross; a sign read, 'We’re together.'  The guide pointed to the crucifix and said, “Jesus is the prisoner who’s taking penance for us all.”

The secret to Humaita’s success is that criminals come to learn of a Savior who, like them, was branded a criminal, and bore the penalty for our sins.  He served their sentence; they are forgiven!

And if you are wondering whether this alternative prison approach works, Brazil’s government reports a 74% percent reoffending rate.  By comparison, Humaita’s recidivism rate is 4%.

Thank You Lord, for doing for us what we could never do for ourselves.  You made it possible for self-centered, prideful, and disobedient people to be forgiven and brought into a loving and personal relationship with You by the blood of Your son Jesus.  Amen

Love Grows

“Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a real blessing." ~ Psalm 127:3

Malik was a selfish teenager; for him the world that mattered stopped at the tip of his nose.

Later in life, he’d freely admit to spending most of his adolescent years thinking only about himself and taking care of his own needs.

He wasn’t particularly unkind.  He never spoke harshly to children or adults; other people were simply irrelevant to him.  As the youngest of 5 siblings, Malik busied himself with video games, Netflix and his own enjoyment.

He never really meant to be selfish.  More like emotionally blind, he just wouldn’t (or couldn’t) empathize with what other people thought or felt.  He let older siblings do most of the chores around the house.  It was his parent’s responsibility to worry about bills and problems.

That didn’t change in college either.  He studied hard but only to make his own life better.  Even when he began exploring his spirituality, it was only to increase his own pleasure.

Malik married before graduation and decided to start a family.  But reality soon became a nightmare.  Newly unemployed, deeply in debt, and with a new baby on the way, modern life had little sympathy for spoiled, pampered people.

In time he’d realize that all those struggles were slowly beating the selfishness out of him one problem at a time.  The answer crystallized one night shortly after his baby boy was born.

He woke in the middle of the night to the adorable sounds of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ coming from the cradle.  When he reached for his child, Rafael’s tiny fingers curled around his pinky.

Malik gazed down into innocent, trusting eyes and a smile as sweet as fresh strawberries.  He picked Rafael up and nestled the infant close (newborns are as nearsighted as Mr. Magoo), talking softly and soothingly.

Malik felt his heart soar, expanding with love and pure joy.  In that moment, the truth became clear: it’s by sharing our love with others that we create joy, serve God, and make this world a better place.

We ourselves are sometimes the love that saves a life, gives another hope, shows someone the way through, or comforts somebody who is hurting.  We’ll never know how much is benefitted but we can be assured that if we only try, love will prevail and it will grow.

The more people you let into your heart, the bigger your heart gets.  The more love you give, the more love you have to give.  It just keeps growing.

So keep loving then.  Keep living.  Keep laughing.  Keep caring.  Keep sharing.  Keep helping our Heavenly Father to heal this world.  Keep growing your heart today, tomorrow, and always.

Almighty Father, when we look into the eyes of Your children, we know You are looking back at us.  It reminds us of the miracle of birth and all that has to happen for a child to be born.  We feel Your love; without You we would be numb.  Thank You, Amen.

Caring, not Curing

“Everything that happens in this world happens at the time God chooses." ~ Ecclesiastes 3: 1-2

Elan Choi grew up poor.  He parlayed several of the scholarships available to disadvantaged youth into a medical school education.  His final rotation through various medical specialties before choosing a residency program was hospice care, a specific type of palliative care, which focuses on caring, not curing.

The sweet smell of success and recognition intoxicated Elan.  He felt absolutely no guilt over those fixations, as our present culture made them near-impossible to resist.  So he’d chosen a profession where pride and selfish ambition often took priority over humility and compassion.

One dark Friday evening, Elan had just finished bathing, changing, and otherwise comforting most of the residents.  He turned to visit one last room.  As he opened the door of a pitch-black room, light from the hallway trickled in, illuminating an old man staring at a picture on his nightstand: a handsome, young man, arm slung round a beautiful woman with a contagious smile.

“May I join you,” Elan asked.

Turns out, the attractive, well-built man in the picture was indeed him; the woman was his late wife of almost seventy years who’d passed away a few months back.

“She was my whole life,” he began.  “I loved her so much.  She took such great care of our kids.  She cared about everyone more than herself.  I try to sleep a lot because when I’m awake I miss her even more.”  He shared all this, and much more, through recurrent bouts of tears.

Elan didn’t know what the man was dying of, or much about his career, hobbies, or interests.  All he saw at that moment – with every one of life’s essentials stripped away – was the man himself, and what he loved.  The most cherished films, books, and images of romance or devotion were merely counterfeits of this unceasing love.

The man was dying, yet had neither uncertainty nor regret on his mind.  He didn’t yearn for years forgotten, nor was he focused on an eternity ahead.  He was simply human, unapologetically consumed by a lifetime of love.  Elan, an insecure and status-obsessed twenty-eight-year-old, did not even attempt to form the right words.  He put his arm on the old man’s shoulder, gazed with him at his beautiful wife, and wept right alongside.

At that very moment, he made a life-changing residency choice.

He’d spend his career sitting and listening with those who embody both suffering and strength, vulnerability and courage; privileged to abide with people approaching their final days as alert and pain-free as possible.  He’d never regret it.

Thank God for hospice caregivers.  Their work is powerful because it doesn’t allow for easy, dressed-up answers.  When one enters the room of a dying stranger, there’s no room for pretense.  One is forced to courageously confront life’s awkward presentations.

Dear Lord, help those who provide hospice to be strong by reminding them that they never walk alone.  Guide, support, and comfort them, their patients and their families like only You can.  Amen

Look Up Child

“Oh Lord, (when all I feel is doubt) I hear you say “Look up child!” ~ Laura Daigle

Isabella woke to the gentle patter of rain on the hotel balcony and thunder rumbling from a distance.  She pushed the blankets off, immediately feeling the warmth of sleep drift away.  Swinging her feet over the side of the bed, she stood up and walked towards the window.

The sky was awash in shades of grey; their dingy color suggested an even drearier day.  Misery seeped into her pores like fog about to rain on her soul with even more sadness.  Before even getting dressed, Isabella decided to take extra tissues and an umbrella to the airport today.

She was on her way home minus that someone who’d been with her for more than a year.  That same person who’d promised to love her forever … only to leave when things got hard.  Where there was once love, light, and laughter - an aching void now surged.  Her heart was crushed; life seemed no longer worth living.

Once on-board, she settled into a window seat and watched as the plane taxied for take-off.  Outside, all she saw were cheerless, ashen clouds.  But as the plane gained altitude through the mist, they emerged into a sun-drenched world far above the disappointments left behind.

The same clouds that were hanging low just minutes before, so dark and gloomy from the underside, appeared totally different from God’s vantage point.  Radiant in their current splendor, they rose as soft mountain peaks, impossible for any would-be climber, yet simple for a dreamer.

That reality brought an important thought to bear; one Isabella tried to remember for the rest of her life.  She realized that, no matter how bleak or dismal a day might be, the sun always shines above the clouds.  That inspired courage, hope, and confidence that everything will be just fine.

It’s not always easy to trace God’s designs in our ill-planned hopes and visions.  But rest assured that if we’re called according to His purpose, and if we love God, all things do work out for good.  Who are we to question which way the winds of Providence shall blow, or how the Great Captain shall maneuver our ship through life’s storms?

Yes clouds will come.  They’re part of the fabric of everyday life.  But by God’s grace we need not be depressed by their presence.  Like the misty billows that float above us: 1) they protect us from the sun’s blinding glare; 2) they reveal God’s majestic glory; and 3) He speaks to us continually from their lofty height whether we sense His presence or not.

But never forget that God promises to guide you when you take your concerns to Him in prayer.  The sunshine of His love shines even into the darkest part of your life.

Look up child, towards the heavens and beyond the clouds!  Everything’s under control.  You’ll see that the suffering you experience now is nothing compared to the glory that I’ve planned for you here!” ~ God

Tell Laura

“Love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins." ~ 1 Peter 4:8

The night her sister turned 53, their Dad called to inform Sheila that her sister’s cancer had spread to multiple organs.  Her end was near.  She’d not wished her sister a happy birthday; they’d barely spoken in 3 years.

Racked with indecision, Sheila asked “Does Laura want me there?”

Through beeping monitors and the ventilator’s hiss, she heard her Dad repeating the question several times.  Her sister replied in a barely audible voice, “Yes.”

Sheila hung up and steadied herself, recalling their last conversation.  It’d started off OK, but within minutes they were back to bickering like teenagers.  There’d never been a real reason.  Some of it was normal sister stuff: juvenile name-calling, petty jealousies, and unauthorized clothes pilfering.  Almost anything could spark an argument.

After their mother died, Laura assumed the role of Mother Superior - a position as eldest sibling she’d rightly earned.  She claimed Sheila was selfish … Sheila called Laura a ‘control freak.’

Soon they replaced the fragile bond of sisterhood with wounds that never healed.  Instead of leaning on each other for strength and answers, they grew into two miserably, resentful women.  Their last exchange ended on hateful, destructive terms.

For the twenty long minutes Sheila drove to the hospital, anger and resentment morphed into fear and anxiety.  It wasn’t her sister’s dying that frightened Sheila, but rather the possibility of Laura telling her one last time how she’d ruined her life with bad decisions.  “Could she possibly listen to Laura rattle off a litany of her failures one last time?” she wondered.

She stood at her sister’s doorway, frozen like a statue, not saying a word.  Her Dad hugged Sheila before exiting.  “Go talk to her,” he whispered.  “She doesn’t have long.”

Laura’s voice crackled like tissue paper as she tried to speak.  “Hold me Sheila, please hold me.”

And that’s what Sheila did; pressing through the sickness, trying to bury all those years they’d wasted.  There would be no hanging up this time, no slamming doors or telling each other to f#ck off.  “I love you Laura,” she managed as her only sister took her final breath.

Whether she agreed or even heard the words, Sheila would never know for sure.  If she’d had more time, she would’ve said everything she’d always wanted to say: that she was sorry they had to grow up so fast, that she appreciated Laura’s filling the ‘Mom’ role, and apologizing for being such a selfish pain.

Now as she thinks about the evening her sister died, she pretends that’s exactly what Laura heard.

Love rarely ever knows its own depth until it’s taken away.  So don’t wait around.  If you love someone today, tell them.

Almighty God, You sent Your own Son into this world to die for us that we might be saved and reunited back to You.  Help us to excel at promoting, maintaining, and protecting positive relationships within our lives!  Amen