Last month, I visited the library at a local detention center. I was there to deliver Bibles and other books, and be introduced to the volunteer team that serves there each week. This was my first time in a jail, and I was grossly unprepared.
As the prison doors slammed shut behind us, I filed past several uniformed guards who were hunched over computer monitors, and seated inside a room of glass and steel. In the small library, however, it is just the volunteers, the prisoners, a few shelves of books, and me. Twenty grown men in striped jumpsuits and shackles: it all formed a picture of humanity that I had never seen up close before.
As I observed everything, I became aware that I was not breathing, not moving, and certainly not smiling. The truth is, I was terrified, and was rigidly focused on not fainting or having a panic attack. Outweighing all of these frightening feelings, however, was powerful disbelief. The library volunteers here at the jail are all over 75 years old!
They seemed happy as clams, perfectly content to serve here, in this windowless, confined, unfriendly place. The volunteers don't look like they've ever had so much as a traffic violation, yet they relate to the prisoners as if they are old friends. They are respectful, helpful, and most of all, non-judgmental. The tough, tattooed, unsmiling faces of some of these men don't intimidate the volunteers. They just accept them as they are... shackles and all.
Nearly every day, God continues to move me out of my comfortable, familiar routine. I pray He will equip me for the adventure. Even it it does include time in the local jail...
Be well.
