“When you did it to one of My flock, you did it to Me!” ~ Matthew 25:40
Howie carried two identities that should never coexist –
one claimed him an inmate; the other now granted him passage as a chaplain. The
Alger Correctional Facility, infamous for outbreaks of violence, had kept him
inside its walls for twenty-two years of a thirty-year sentence.
He now walked those
same corridors holding keys instead of shackles. His face bore the rough
geography of past mistakes. His eyes held the kind of wisdom forged under
pressure.
He led a ministry in that place of damaged souls, telling
stories that cracked open even the coldest hearts. Ordinary objects became
parables in his hands. When Brother Howie spoke of mercy, even men who claimed
boredom leaned closer, wary of hope yet hungry for it.
Justin, #M185379, entered the session with a scowl clinging
like a second skin. Raised in a church pew, lost to the streets. He had chased
the wrong applause, traded innocence for self-indulgence, until violence penned
the final sentence on his freedom. Jealousy and rage swarmed his heart like
hornets trapped under glass.
When he entered the conference room, his gaze fixed on a
large target hanging on the wall and a table scattered with darts. This could
be interesting, he thought; a welcome outlet from the poison thrashing inside
him.
Howie handed out blank paper and told the prisoners to draw
a picture of someone who’d wronged and stoked anger in them. Then they could aim
and fire.
One drew a guy’s face
who stole his girl. Another drew an ex-friend with great detail, including scars
and tattoos. Justin grinned at his own portrait: a guard whose smug smirk haunted
him.
Resentment flared as he clenched the useless darts. He missed
the satisfaction of impact.
Howie walked to the target and tugged it free from its
pins. The raucous men fell silent.
Hidden beneath was a portrait of Jesus. Torn. Punctured.
Eyes mutilated.
No words necessary. No dramatic sermon. Howie only spoke
the ancient words from Matthew 25:40 (above). “When you show kindness to the
most vulnerable, you’re offering the same to Me.” Then he dismissed them.
The phrase "the darts of jealousy and hatred"
evokes a powerful image of the destructive emotions hurled like sharp, painful
projectiles. These emotions wound far more than their targets. They vandalize
God’s reflection on others and bruise the spirit who launches the punch. They
fracture connections, sabotage growth, and impede our spiritual growth for a
lifetime.
A prayer lingered in the stillness when inmates returned to
their cells:
Lord of mercy, lift the weight of bitterness
from our chests. Heal the jealousy that distorts our vision. Teach us
contentment in Your love and gratitude for Your gifts. Shape our hearts into
instruments of peace. Amen.
