I spent many years remodeling my little starter home, painstakingly ripping out the old and slowly rebuilding as time and funds allowed. I remodeled the bathrooms, redesigned the kitchen, and replaced all of the closet shelving. From painting to gardening I plugged away at the never ending to-do-list. It was not only fun, but rewarding when a project was completed and I could enjoy the fruits of my labor. There were plants still in starter pots, and products still in their original packaging when all my efforts came to a screeching halt one morning in July 2014. Now, ten years after my arrest I look back with mixed emotions as I contemplate the renters who enjoy my former residence oblivious to the sweat and toil that shaped their current environment. One renter while moving out, angry that she’d been denied her security deposit for damages done, proceeded to cause further harm. She ripped a costly touch screen thermostat off the wall, tore down an ornate ceiling fan, and broke the venetian blinds that once adorned the windows. Should I see it as a mercy then that barring any changes in the law I will never see my house again? Perhaps.
I was born in 1971 with the same genetic disposition toward sin that inhabits all of us. After countless years of resistance to urges I’d developed during an indulgent and unbridled adolescence, I finally broke and gave in to my sinful desires. I was wrong and the Word of God was right. The pleasures of sin only last for a season. When God decided that season should end he lovingly intervened. His chastening led to my permanent removal from society. I now approach my tenth year behind bars. I’ve learned a lot in that time. Aside from how to survive in a hostile environment, God showed me a way out and the way back to a right relationship with Him. He gave me the opportunity for true repentance and a return to the life He intended for me from the beginning. I don’t pretend to understand exactly why. You’ll have to take that up with Him if it bothers you. I only know I’m eternally grateful for His mercy. From day one I was fully aware that God’s hand was behind my arrest, and while the FBI was still rifling through all of my material possessions I knew what I had to do. That very day I recommitted to walk with Him, to fight for purity, and to rely on His strength to never again cave in to worldly appetites. With His help I’ve been doing so ever since. I have no desire to turn back ever again.
I caused a lot of damage to myself, to others, and to the cause of Christ. The shame and regret I feel is a daily struggle for me. I shake my head when I think about the depths of depravity that marked nearly a decade of my life. The voices of the naysayers still ring loudly in my ears: “He’s a menace to society!”, “How could you?”, “People like you can never be cured!”, or “He’s only sorry because he got caught!” I don’t blame them for their outrage, and in some cases I’ve felt the same way about others. It’s natural to be angry at the sins of others, especially when we can’t relate to them. When a person fails there’s never a lack of negative commentary. But the voice that should be our focus, and the One I’m most concerned with is the Lord’s. It’s what He says to be true that matters most to me. He said I was conceived in sin, but that I’m still fearfully and wonderfully made. Though He chooses the foolish to confound the wise, He says I was chosen according to His purpose laid out before the foundation of the world.
I wake up every day in a world that is quick to remind me of my past. I live every moment of my life surrounded by society’s outcasts. Everywhere I turn I see the results of my sinful choices – barbed wire, concrete walls, gun towers, and prison guards – and it makes it hard to press on and not look back as Paul exhorts us to do. The voices of politicians, radio hosts, and society resound with scorn and ridicule in a seemingly endless cacophony. It’s deafening! If the government has its way my life will end in prison. It’s defeating! And loudly the masses cheer “lock them up and throw away the key!” Yet my heart cries out with the Psalmist, “restore us O God.” I miss my home, my family, my friends, and my son. I pray God will restore what my sin has taken away from me. I pray for purpose once again in this world, and I pray God will restore my church family to me. And with all that I’ve lost, perhaps that most important for me right now is the church. So, it’s to the church that I appeal.
I’m always amazed when passages of the Bible that I’ve read on numerous occasions suddenly stand out like never before. God has a way of drawing our attention to exactly what we need to hear at just the right time. As a prisoner I can’t help but notice prison references. Recently I decided to dig a little deeper into one such verse: Hebrews 10:13 “Remember the prisoners as if chained with them – those who are mistreated – since you yourselves are also in the body.” While not the main focus of my study, it’s worth noting that “the body” here is a reference to the flesh. It’s as if to say “…since you too understand physical and emotional pain.” As I pondered this verse I looked up “prisoner” in the Greek thinking it must refer to persecuted Christians, or perhaps those who’ve been wrongfully convicted of crimes. To the contrary, I found no disqualifiers in the word or the context. It simply refers to those in prison. Then I looked up “remember” and found it to be an unusual verb, a passive imperative. My goal had been to learn “who” the prisoner was, and “what” exactly remember was calling believers to do. Instead, I discovered “how” believers obey this command.
Let me explain. The subject of this verse is the believers, the Christians, who are commanded to remember the prisoners. In English we don’t give commands in a passive voice. We use the active voice. Normally Greek follows this pattern as well. Using the active voice we might say “Throw the ball!” or “Shut the door!”. Both are active imperatives, or commands. In the passive voice we’d say “The ball was thrown,” or “The door was shut,” and no imperatives are used because no command is being given. So why is all of this important? Because we don’t use passivity in giving a command. It doesn’t make sense. So this passage appeared to be contradictory to me, and I was puzzled by this nuance in the Greek. It would be like saying “The prisoners were remembered,” and calling it a command. It’s confusing. Since my knowledge of Greek is limited, and I don’t have access to the internet or other meaningful biblical resources for research, I did the only thing I could do, I prayed about it. I asked the Lord to help me understand, and to show me if I was making more of this than necessary and I left it at that. Well, imagine my delight while lying in bed the next night listening to a sermon from the pastor of a well known church in Chicago who took the time to elaborate on another word using the same construction. In my excitement I almost missed his explanation. The following is a paraphrase to the best of my recollection of what he said: A command is simply that, a command. It’s an order; you do it. If the Bible directs Christians to do something in the imperative we are expected to do it. It’s that simple. However, the passive voice adds an interesting dynamic to a command. In the passive voice the subject performs no action, it receives the action. In the passive voice (the prisoners were remembered) the subject shifts from believers to prisoners. So it’s almost as if the believer becomes obsolete in performing the action of the command in a passive imperative. It’s as if to say the power to perform the task is outside of the one being commanded. God is the One giving the command and in a sense, it is God who is fulfilling the command through those being commanded. How beautiful is that? As Christians we must submit ourselves to the Lord and allow Him to fulfill His orders through us. Our ability to perform what He expects of us is solely dependent on the power of the One giving us the command.
It’s not natural for us to want to love the unlovely, and many prisoners are just that, unlovely people. But we’re people nonetheless, and some are your brothers or sisters in Christ. We’ve done some pretty awful things, and in many respects we deserve the disdain of society. In spite of this believers are commanded to remember the prisoners as if there with them. This falls in line with the biblical mandate to love others as yourself. It’s not an easy thing to ask of people if we’re honest, but it is a command, and it’s going to take Christ in and through us to accomplish it.
In Matthew 5:43-48, Jesus, quoting an Old Testament passage, dispels the religious leaders’ perversion of it. They taught to “love your neighbor and hate your enemy.” Jesus told them, “I say unto you, love your enemies…” Love here is no feeling. It’s an active imperative verb; a command. It’s not always going to feel good loving those that we think don’t deserve it, but we’re commanded to do so. In Luke’s account of the story (6:32) Jesus says, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them.” It’s easy to love our friends and those who’ve done us no wrong, but Jesus says that’s not enough. He expects more. For many, loving an enemy is a lot to ask. Loving a stranger is one thing, but loving your enemy seems over the top. And for most, this is an impossible task without Christ. Asking you to remember the prisoners, especially if their actions have had a negative impact on you may be offensive to you. For some of you, I may have been the prisoner that hurt you. If so, I am deeply sorry and ask for your forgiveness.
I know that I approach this subject with some level of bias. Unfortunately, it’s not a popular thing to speak of and no one else seems to be talking about it, but it needs to be said. I grew up in the church and in 52 years I can vividly recall only one sermon on the topic. There are many Christians behind bars and we need the body of Christ more than ever. Books are nice to receive, but it’s your words that we need the most, your love that makes a difference, and your forgiveness that refreshes the soul.
Prisons are no walk in the park. They’re overcrowded and filled with constant noise and violence. I grew up poor and hungry. I know how to do without, or with very little, but I was blessed with a big family and I was never truly alone. While prisons are packed with people they are some of the loneliest places in the world. People we care about the most are often hundreds or thousands of miles away. Prison chapel programs tend to be just that, another government program run by a government official. They offer little in the way of spiritual nourishment, and frequently promote false doctrines. Too many prisoners are filling their need for love in all the wrong ways, and too few churches are offering their support. The vast majority that are involved only go so far as sending in Bible study materials. The resources would be much more effective if presented in a face-to-face setting with a Christian volunteer. We were designed by God to be in relationships with others, not to be alone. We need the body of Christ, that body we belong to as believers. Christ is my head and I have unique gifts given by God for the edification of the saints. Unfortunately, I’ve been cut off from the body and I’ve yet to know restoration. I am a foot or a finger with no body and I hurt because of it.
Loving prisoners won’t make you popular and is sure to come with public ridicule. The world expects you to choose sides, usually that of the victim: But the world is not our Master. God’s Word teaches us, commands us, to love all, even the unlovely. With roughly 1.3 million prisoners in the U.S. alone it shouldn’t be too hard to connect with prisoners near you. Occasional correspondence or visits mean more than you could ever imagine.
I no longer get to enjoy my earthly home. The sound of the hammer and drill ended years ago, but the remodeling goes on. My body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, and my heart is God’s throne. My mind is being renewed day by day. Christ is building His church, the church that includes more than just those gathered in comfortable pews on Sunday morning. It includes the sick and infirm, the elderly shut-in too frail to leave the safety of home, and it includes the prisoner cast off from society. Some will make excuses why they are not the solution to the problem. Others will scoff and mock me being fully aware of my sordid past. Jesus too was mocked, even to the end. But one man heard His message loud and clear. At the point of death he cried out to a bleeding Savior Who bore his sin, “Lord remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke_ 23.42), interestingly also using the passive imperative “remember.” But Jesus was not passive in his response, “today you will be with me in paradise.” So I ask, how will you remember the prisoners today? What will your response be? Will you let Christ love your brother or sister in prison through you today? This prisoner sure hopes so.
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