19: Hallway disciple

God is present in prison

The last episode reviewed my literal steps into prison. Rather than just share a day-by-day chronological discourse of my 30 days in Milan FCI, I’m going to focus on different topics that I saw across my 30 day period. Today, I’ll share what I saw and did with respect to religion. Specifically, in my case, Christianity.

I’m not going to assume that all of you have read my journey from the beginning. I have an early post title “so a piano man walks into a church”. My Christian faith is foundational to who I am. I have served as a worship leader in my church for many years, served on boards, was president of our congregation, and have personally supported and built a micro-lending organization in a South African township in concert with a church my congregation sponsored. I say all of this not to raise myself, but to provide context for today’s topic. I would bring God to prison with me.

I attempted to take 2 bibles with me into prison: one is a small travel bible that I would gladly give up to someone else (which is why I wanted it). The second is a chronological bible designed to be read in a year. This type of bible is different in two ways. Firstly, there’s a section of pages for each day. Secondly, being chronological, on any day, it may be a mix of First Kings, Isaiah, Chronicles, and Psalms, for example. My wife, daughter, and I had begun reading this together, out loud, starting in January, at 7:30 in the morning. Before I went to Milan, we bought a duplicate bible so that we could all continue our morning routine. Unfortunately, the officer during my intake to prison limited the number of books I could bring in, and I left the travel bible behind.

I spent a part of every day reading the bible in the hallway, where there were two large fans and plenty of chairs. I would underline phrases that spoke to me. I would pray at night in my bunk. The hallways always had several people, either talking, playing cards, or, like me, reading.

666

One early evening, there was a conversation at one end of the hallway. I was close to a large hallway fan reading a John Grisham novel, and could not hear their discussion. At the end of the hallway, a friendly Hawaiian man (who was always quick with a smile), a taller, larger Asian man with tattoos on his arms and legs, a skinny Kentucky man with a beard and longer hair in a pony tail, and another man were deep in discussion. The Asian man stood up and was showing all his tattoos. About five minutes later, the Kentuckian (Scott) called to me. “Hey Brad, I bet you know something about this. Come on over.” I set my novel down and moved my chair down to join them.

Among the tattoos that consumed the landscape of the Asian man’s large arms and legs was a large “666” across his shin. The discussion was about whether he had taken the sign of the beast. Revelations says that there will come a time when every person on earth will need to accept the “mark of the beast” in loyalty. With this mark (666), a person can participate in commerce, society, and be accepted. By aligning with the devil. Without the mark, one would face near-certain death on earth, yet receive eternal life in heaven. They asked me directly if I thought he was already condemned because he accepted the mark.

The downside of being indicted by the federal government is that there is a lot of time spent waiting for things to happen. I feel extremely fortunate that I was able to be at my home, and not in confinement like so many others (unjustly). The upside of the time, though, is that I could do things I otherwise would not. My wife and I listened to a 9-part series (1 hour each) on Revelations while we drove around the Chicago suburbs, within my court-mandated 50 mile radius. How fortuitous that I studied Revelations before going to prison and being asked about Revelations!

I explained to them that I had recently studied Revelations. No one will take the mark of the beast by accident. No one will be tricked into taking the mark. Everyone, at that time, will know the consequences of taking the mark or not taking the mark. At that appointed time, a most critical decision will be required. A tattoo? Spiritually, 666 is no different than 667 or 665. There is no alignment with the beast (or Satan or whomever). I said I don’t know what’s in your heart, but if this symbolic, well, I think you should learn more about what it means. But this means nothing relative to your opportunities for salvation. I didn’t get a clear story of how it came to be, but he seemed relieved. The smiling Hawaiian said “I knew you’d have the answer!”.

For another

There was a young black man who was a bit shorter and had cornrows. He had been there about five days when he approached me as I was reading my bible. He said, “is that a bible?” I said yes. I invited him to sit next to me, and I showed him that it was by day, and chronological. I also showed him the index at the end, so that, supposed, one wanted to read the Gospel of Mark, it would show you where that is (each section).

I could sense he wanted to look at it. I asked him if he’d like to borrow it. He said yes. I said great, just let me have it back when you are done! He sat down by his bunk and began reading.

I thought he would read for a bit, and then return it, understanding that he could borrow it again the next day. I moved on to other things, and didn’t think about it until the next day. I thought I’d see if he’d return it to me. Another day went by.

I was feeling the need to connect with the bible, so I approached him and asked if I could have it back for a bit to read. He said “sure!” and returned it. The next morning, he was moved out of Quarantine and into the general inmate population. The exact reason why I wanted a second bible. An opportunity missed.

Two Lutherans

Gunter, the German who was a Caribbean Yacht crew member, was an older man, full of life and energy. He was supposed to have been released in December (I met him end of February). However, he was awaiting travel arrangements (including passport and other documents) to Germany, working with his attorney, the German embassy, and whomever from the US side handles those things. It seemed like his return was imminent.

We spent hours together. He has a think German accent, and I’m hard of hearing, so we probably shoved what would be a 15 minute discussion into 1/2 an hour! He would search for the right word, and he would ask if it was right.

As we shared stories, I mentioned that I had been a worship leader at my Lutheran church, and that I had written a musical. I got a big Gunter smile. He was a sound man for a Lutheran musical group in Germany. The group would perform a Christian musical at German Lutheran churches on Sunday mornings. They would travel on weekends to substitute a church service with their musical, and Gunter would set up, run the sound board, and tear down. I asked about the churches, which ones were hard to put a sound system in, and about the group he travelled with. We connected with a shared love of the Gospel.

Gut Punch

There was a stocky man with red hair and a beard.  He wasn’t someone that I had interacted with. One morning he was upset that someone had stolen his stamps. In quarantine, inmates do not go to commissary.  There is a form that is filled out with requested items. For reasons not quite understood to any of us, some items would be purchased, and some not. Once someone has branded deodorant, toothpaste, shower shoes and a hairbrush, stamps are coveted.  They are the one item that has an explicit value to it.  Within the system, they are a unit of exchange between inmates.  So, having stamps stolen was a big deal.

I spent a few minutes helping him out.  He showed me the receipt from the commissary.  I had purchased 5 stamps, but I literally had no idea how to even get a letter out of the prison.  So I let him have my stamps.

Later that day, he was siting by himself looking at a magazine. I asked if I could sit. He said sure. I asked him about himself (not why he was in, but where he’s from). The story was one of the most difficult one I’ve heard.  Beaten by a drunk father. Ignored by a drunk mother. Left home in high school. Took on odd jobs. Has anger management problems. Tried to get into professional wrestling. Couldn’t hold a job. That’s a summary of an hour.  I’ll spare the horrifying details. He then said that he’s done some unforgiveable things. Apparently his aunt found that he had been communicating inappropriately with her underage daughter. Again. And here he was.

I told him that God can use everyone for good. There is no one he cannot reach.  No one he cannot forgive. He pushed back and said he knows he’s going to hell when he dies.  He is unsavable.  I asked if I could pray with him.  We prayed in the hallway. He was teary-eyed. Afterward, I encouraged him to pray and find Jesus.

He went back to his cell.  Scott called me over.  “Dude, you should know a bit about him.”  Apparently a few inmates who travelled with him to Milan were curious about his background.  They sent an email to someone “on the outside” with some information to track down.  It turns out that he had been actively involved in child pornography distribution (hundreds). If I hadn’t been disturbed by what I heard directly about his background, this certainly made me ill.

Luke 17:2 It would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck and he were cast into the sea than that he should cause one of these little ones to sin.

Inmates who have been involved with child sex trafficking and pornography are considered the lowest level among inmates.  They are often killed in prison.  Was I wrong to preach the goodness of God? Of forgiveness?  If I’m going to minister to someone, I need to be more discerning.  I need to gain maturity of discourse so I do not, ever, misrepresent the Gospel.  It was a punch to the gut.