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

Not His Plan

“We make lots of plans but God’s purpose prevails." ~ Proverbs 19:21

We all have a story.  The one God wrote for Alejandro took several unexpected turns.

Despite an education from a major university, he graduated in the midst of one of the country’s worst recession.  No one was hiring.

A friend got him a job at a group home for cognitively disabled adults.  That was certainly NOT part of his career plan.  It was hard work and emotionally draining.

Alejandro was responsible for helping the residents develop life skills until they were ready to live independently.  The most challenging part of the job was helping them learn to control their behaviors when they acted out – a liability he dreaded and seemed ill-prepared to assume.

Jacob, one of the residents in particular, would become violent at times when frustrated.  He did enjoy hiking outside, so Alejandro often walked with him to calm him down.

One day when they were out walking Alejandro suddenly felt something touch his fingers.  Jacob was trying to hold his hand.  Instead of pushing it away Alejandro grabbed his hand and they strolled together in the sunshine.

As they headed home Alejandro felt the warmth in Jacob’s eyes.  They beamed with love, with joy, with goodness.

He closed his own eyes and savored the moment.  He let the happiness soak into his bones, never releasing Jacob’s grip.

It caught him off guard.  In that instant, Alejandro saw past Jacob’s troubling behaviors and his impairment.  He saw who Jacob really was.

For the first time in forever his body and mind relaxed - no expectations on him, no deadlines and no schedules to meet.  This wasn’t his plan … but he liked where it was headed.

Little did Alejandro know that God would use that experience to help prepare him for his own two son’s Autism.  Although his boys often found it difficult to fit in, it helped their Dad see the light that shone within them as well.  Learning to accept, nurture and celebrate their differences was a critical step to encourage them as the men God created them to be.

It helped him realize that caring for them was not a duty but an honor; that every child of God is precious and holy.  They became his best tutors about how to live and how to love.  And when it came to plans, God may have steered his somewhere else, but He always had something bigger and better in mind.

No matter where you are on your faith journey, there’s a plan and a purpose to what you experience.  If you’re struggling, take comfort in knowing you’re not alone.  Be encouraged by reading about others’ experiences who have seen the transforming work of Jesus in their lives.

Heavenly Father, You know me better than I know myself.  I know you have a plan for me, so please don't let my desires blind me to Your will.  Give me peace about whatever is to come, trusting completely in Your hand.  Amen

Souls Connected

“Love God with all your heart, soul, and all your strength.” ~ Deuteronomy 6:5

They’d been in the ER for hours.  Every so often Sandra would lean over and kiss his searing brow as if to cool it, or maybe, to comfort herself.   Her husband, Geoffrey, was clinging to life with a severe infection.

Sandra waited hopefully, feeling strangely euphoric as she reflected on how lucky she was to have so much to lose.  He was her rock, her mystery, the love of her life.

Just yesterday, while sitting before a romantic fire, Geoffrey picked up the stubby end of an indigo crayon and a ragged piece of paper.  He drew a hangman’s noose and the dotted lines of a secret message.  Sandra grinned.

Geoffrey rolled the crayon toward her so that she could use it to guess letters.  Sandra got the first few wrong.  One by one he drew a head, a body, both legs and two arms.

"Give up?" he mouthed, before filling in the puzzle: “You complete me!” it read.

Sandra swept away the mess and snuggled in close.  They’d been married for over 18 years.  That meant she woke up beside him over 6,500 times.  And whether one or both of them rushed out the door with the kids or they savored the intimacy of their last few horizontal minutes together, their mornings always kicked off the same way: with a kiss and synchronized “I love you’s!”

They discussed everything – especially the hard stuff.  They trusted each other completely; assured that neither would abandon the other in the face of anger, conflict or even sickness.

Sandra placed her lips again to Geoffrey’s sleeping forehead and felt a welcome coolness.  She sank deeply into the armchair.  Tension that’d robbed her of rest melted away; her prayers answered.

Successful couples don’t have a magic formula or aren’t simply better matched.  They keep their eye on the prize – a loving relationship, by constantly working at nourishing their marriage.  They never take each other for granted, always blessed by the wonder of their union.  They’re slow to anger, quick to forgive, and leave no tracks of resentment.

God wants us to experience the same kind of relationship with Him.  Those who know Him have a sense of desperation for fellowship with Him.  He’s not simply a priority; he is the priority.  God wants us to trust, admire and love Him with every cell in our bodies just as we might feel with our closest human relationships.

Perhaps the most profound unity we can have with God is when we share His work. Whether that means praying for someone He loves, leading by His example, or bringing a message of hope to someone who’s been wounded, there is nothing like doing God’s will on earth.

Lord, take me deeper.  I don’t know how to worship You like Mary did, but I want to learn.  I want more of You in my life.  I want You to be the object of my affection and all my devotions.  Amen

Into Life

“I leave you with peace, so don’t be troubled or afraid." ~ John 14:27

He stunk of stale cigarettes and his scraggly, hair hung as a tangled mop of mousy grey.  Weighing no more than 120 pounds, Eddy was somewhere in his sixties, but years of living on the street, sleeping on subway grates or flophouse steps, had taken its toll and his mind and body.  Today he was going to do something he hadn’t done in over four decades.

The concrete steps of the St. Joseph’s Cathedral were still wet from the morning rain, but he waited on them despite the dampness seeping through his corduroys.  Eddy was going to church today.  Well, technically he was attending a funeral for a man he barely knew; yet a man whose kindness had enabled a cup of coffee or an occasional sandwich for as long as he could remember.

“Jonesy” had greeted Eddy nearly every morning on the walk to his office with whatever money he pulled from his pocket.  His eyes were what struck Eddy the most.  They seemed to sparkle with a brilliance that glowed from deep within his soul.  They’d chat briefly.  And Jonesy would always close with “Have a blessed day my friend,” before continuing on his way.

Eddy had no details on Jonesy’s passing, but he felt his friend deserved his presence at the memorial service today.

As people started to arrive, Eddy moved to the shadows.  He expected hurtful comments about his appearance so he waited until the service began before entering.  Though there was fear in his chest, there was none in Eddy’s heart when he took his place in the last pew.  He so hoped God would understand.

He was immediately surprised by the joyful demeanor of the congregation.  Beautiful music filled the air without effort; the sound rushing in and around every person in the room.

The tone was happy rather than mournful, celebratory instead of somber.  Almost no one was dressed in black.  Which struck Eddy as strange, because at the altar was a wooden coffin containing the lifeless body of a 56-year-old man.

A few spoke about their relationship with Jonesy.  Most, if not all of them, made sure to express thanks to God.

There was nothing particularly sad or mournful about the scripture readings either.  They seemed to provide a glimpse into a brighter world, a world where all Christians will be reunited, where the bonds of love shall be made stronger, never again to be severed.

Maybe there is something to this Christian stuff, Eddy thought to himself.  Not only did this help soothe the pain of losing his friend, but offered hope for a better world, knowing he’d see Jonesy again, thank him again, and thank God for the second chance starting right now.

Thank you Jesus, that the sting of death has been forever broken by Your resurrection, so that by believing in You, we might have everlasting life.  And remind us that Christian funerals are a joyful celebration of these glorious truths.  Amen

Tune In

“God speaks in many ways, but we don’t always recognize His voice." ~ Job 33:14

“Shhh!  It’s about to start,” Grampa announced fiddling with the antenna.

It would oddly be called the Golden Age of Radio.  Odd because part of this period started during the Great Depression when people were doing without most luxuries, and even many necessities.

But after the initial purchase radio was free, providing a cheap source of entertainment that replaced more costly pastimes such as the movies.  Even though people couldn't afford payments on their washing machines, vacuum cleaners, or Model A Fords, they desperately struggled to keep up payments on their radios.

They weren't just small devices in plastic cases.  Radios were built into large wooden cases that served as elaborate pieces of furniture.  The size was due mostly to various large vacuum tubes in the circuitry.

The Golden Age was more than storytelling; even more than today’s audiobook.   They were movies that played on the biggest screen of all … our imaginations!

Grampa loved that radio.  It was the only object in his home he felt an emotional attachment to.  It never demanded his attention but instead sat quiet and unassuming until called upon.

His family would gather around its bulky frame and fill in the story’s blanks with images in their own heads, much as if they were reading.  Sound-effects artists who’d been laid off with the advent of “talkies” found new jobs providing radio sounds that would guide the creation of those images.

Despite its popularity, radio still had many kinks to be worked out.  Tuning the station to its correct frequency was a constant chore.  So Grampa would stand near the radio adjusting the antenna with as much clarity as he could finesse, then gingerly letting go only to have the static return with frustrating obscurity.

Grampa worked feverishly to keep the program “tuned in” so as not to distract or disengage the family’s entertainment.  But it was so worth it – like spending time with an old friend.

Now that radio sits idle beside my bed (vacuum tubes are nearly impossible to find these days).  I play the greatest hits from my own golden years on my new-fangled Smartphone and pretend to ‘tune in’ Grampa’s old radio to the airwaves of yesteryear.

Today a different kind of static clouds and jumbles our hearts and minds – the static of busyness, societal pressures, cheap advice, self-absorption, and (anti)social media.  We’re often so busy and the world so loud that it’s difficult to hear God’s voice, especially since He often speaks in tones that are still and small.

Some Christians even live their lives on “airplane mode” completely tuning out the messages God sends to us continuously throughout the day.  We have a direct link to the Throne of Grace — no antenna required.  He’s always speaking to us … but are we tuned-in to His message?

Father, bless me with a seeking heart.  Give me ears to hear and eyes to see the ways You’re speaking to me.   Help me recognize the difference between Your voice and my thoughts.  Amen

Dyn-o-mite

“The Lord said, ”Well done, my good and faithful servant." ~ Matthew 25:21

There’s a reason journalists at major newspapers pre-write the obituaries of famous people.  They want them to be great!  Can you imagine the horror of reading one’s own obituary – and it was bad … really bad?  Think about that for a moment while I digress.

Young Alfred watched the explosion with childlike curiosity.  It wasn’t its noise, power or intensity that captivated him.  It was the challenge.  As a neophyte chemist, he was determined to produce nitroglycerin, a violently explosive liquid, for practical use.  Nitro in the mid-1800s was so unstable that the slightest jolt, impact or friction caused it to spontaneously detonate.

To make its handling less dangerous, Alfred tested countless additives.  Ultimately he found that mixing nitro with clay turned the liquid into a paste that could formed into rod-like shapes.  He patented his invention “dynamite.”

The new, safer explosive immediately found many industrial uses, such as mining, quarrying, and demolition.  But when WWI broke out, dynamite began fueling war machines on both sides.

Despite being a pacifist, his factory continued producing nitroglycerin-based explosives, defending this incongruity by saying he was trying to produce weapons so destructive that no-one would dare use them - thus eliminating war.

Sadly, that strategy failed.

When his brother Ludvig died in 1888, a French newspaper erroneously published Alfred’s obituary by mistake.  Imagine his shock when he read the headline “The Merchant of Death is Dead.” It went on to say that “he’d become rich by finding ways to kill more people faster than ever before.”

Horrified to read that he’d be remembered for eternity as the man who indirectly caused so much death and carnage, Dr. Alfred Nobel decided that history should remember his name for a greater purpose.  He devised a plan to devote 94% of his estate (about $265 million) to a series of prizes for “those who’ve … conferred the greatest benefit on mankind.”

Since 1901, the Nobel Prize has been honoring men and women from all corners of the globe for outstanding achievements in physics, chemistry, medicine, literature, and peace.

No eulogy ever says s/he dressed well, lived extravagantly, took fabulous vacations, drove an expensive car, or built the most expensive home.  Those who are most mourned are people who enhanced the lives of others.  They were kind and loving.  They had a keen sense of their duties.

When they could, they gave to charity.  If they couldn’t give money, they gave time.  They were loyal friends and committed members of communities; people you could always count on.  They were the essence of lives well lived.

What will be your legacy?  How would you like to be remembered?  Will you be missed?

Father, I love to be in control and cling to anxiety with stubborn pride.  Show me how to be more like Your son Jesus so that You will be glorified!  It’s a daily battle that can only be won with Your grace - not by my own determination and desire.  Amen