Prison

This morning I wrote another letter to a woman in prison. She is a former student of mine who made a couple of very serious mistakes. She is not violent and a wonderful, creative person. She and I have been exchanging letters for the last few months. I send her some of my sermons. NO, she does not have insomnia, and, no, she does not use them as sleep aids!

Anyway, I was thinking about prison this morning, and it is interesting that yesterday I had a conversation with one of our food pantry workers about prison. He was telling of some good work that he knew about and is involved in.

This conversation brought back some vivid memories of my last couple years at Lipscomb, back in the late 70s, early 80s. I'm not sure how it all started, but I got involved in doing some prison work. I think it started out as a group visit to a women's prison and ended up to where I was preaching on a regular basis in both men's and women's prisons.

As I reflected on that I thought of a few stories that amused me. The first was when one lady wanted to be baptized. The prison had a portable baptistery that took a while to fill. I don't remember if I baptized her or someone else, but I do remember that she was a large black lady. She really didn't quite fit the tank, so we'll need some extra grace to cover the unsubmerged parts of her. Anyway, once she came up out of the water, she started twirling around, dancing, and praising God. At first it kinda freaked me out, but later I saw it as a wonderful, authentic expression of joy. Very appropriate!

Another time I preached in a maximun security facility that housed some of the most violent offenders. They gathered in a cafeteria and sat on carefully arranged chairs. The tables had been put up (if my memory serves me correctly). The thing that I remember is that shotgun-toking guards lined the walls of the room while I preached.

The last memory I'll share took place during the same assembly mentioned in the previous paragraph. I made the mistake-I think it was a mistake-of offering the invitation to the crowd. Nearly all of them responded! Here I was this little skinny boy surrounded by all these big hardened criminals. They all just wanted prayer, and maybe to be recognized by possible witnesses at their parole hearings. Sorry, cynicism showed up!

OK, those are my prison stories for today.