God is Alive and Well Behind The Wall

By Deaconess Lori Wilbert

David's eyes are tired. David has been doing time since I first started chaplaincy work at the prison 16 years ago. David's skin is pale and thin from so many days and nights spent locked inside a cell house away from sunlight. David has nerve damage leaving him with tremors in his hands—the result of beatings from both officers and inmates that happened in his early days at "the joint". David will, more than likely, not go home. I think of this every time I visit him. I will be out of this ministry one day, and David will still be doing time.

David seems older than his 35 years. Incarceration takes its toll. Yet, David's eyes radiate warmth as he speaks of his faith, the long road he has traveled and God's faithfulness on that journey. He is at peace now. It has been a long and difficult journey. After a tumultuous childhood and youth, a violent beginning to his prison sentence and the stress of doing time, David knows the love of God, the comfort of God's abiding presence and the tremendous gift of hope through the risen Christ. Oh, we have much to learn from David.

David is one reason I go to prison. Another is Ed. Others include Henry and Marcus, Modesto, Tony, Big Spicer and many others. Four prisons (both men's and women's facilities) and one juvenile center later, my eyes are opened to both those behind the wall and their victims. I now have a different view of the communities from which they each have come.

We, the church, must go to both victims and offenders and listen. We must go. They cannot come to us. Those in prison and those they have harmed remain a part of our communities when we take the time to listen to their stories, lift them in prayer and minister to them even as they minister to us. We receive ministry from them, as they allow us the privilege to journey with them.

My days in prison ministry are rich. I speak with individuals who display an authenticity that many of us on the street might emulate. In "the joint" standing behind the iron bars of a cell, there's not much room to hide. Ironically, we think of those in prison as being the cons among us, but I contend that those of us on the street do our fair share of conning. We can hide. They cannot. Another lesson learned.

And so it is, in the end, that we must all face our sin. Christ says, whether we take a life or hate someone, we have committed murder. If we have lusted, we have committed adultery (Matthew 5:22, 28). We all find ourselves at the foot of the cross of God's mercy, each of us, where the blood of Christ covers a multitude of sins. This is God's truth. This is our hope!

For I was hungry and you gave me food, thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, in prison and you visited me…and the king will say…whatever you did for one of the least of these, you did for me (Matthew 25:35, 40).