Etched in my Mind
It was one of life's short-notice opportunities. A schedule change created
an opening for me to speak for Operation Starting Line. I was delighted to
receive the call that they needed me in Texas.
Operation Starting
Line is a combined effort of more than a dozen prominent Christian ministries,
including the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, Prison Fellowship
Ministries and Promise Keepers. The goal of this evangelistic,
discipleship and post-release program is to touch every prisoner in the United
States within a five-year period.
The events in Texas
consisted of five teams who visited thirteen prisons. I was part of a team
of five, which included an ex-prisoner — me. My job was to tell my story
of transformation from a life filled with poverty, despair and drug addiction
into a successful businessman.
My mother raised
three children on a meager, monthly welfare check while my father served time in
a maximum-security prison. Our house was filled with rats, mice and
roaches. My environment led me to a life of crime in a struggle to
survive. I recounted how Jesus transformed me from a Class X felon into a
success.
On Friday we did
two shows at a minimum-security prison. The next day, we went to a
maximum-security facility. While we were setting up in the yard, the
chaplain told us that if a riot broke out we were to go to the brick wall and
put our backs against it and let the riot police do their jobs.
The unit was filled
with boys, eleven to nineteen years old, who were serving thirty- to forty-year
sentences. During the show, someone started a fire in the kitchen.
When we returned two days later, we heard that many guards had quit because it
was so dangerous.
We went to
"the hole" (the administrative segregation unit) to speak to the guys
in their cells. There I met a heavily tattooed seventeen-year-old
"gang-banger" serving forty "ag" years. That meant he
had an aggravated sentence and had to serve about thirty years before he could
see the parole board.
In the hole, I sat
on the floor and read the Bible with a sixteen-year-old gang-banger serving a
ten-year sentence. When I asked him why he joined a gang, he looked at me
like I was crazy and said, "Everyone I know is in a gang." I
looked into his sad eyes and realized that only God could heal the hurts in this
young man's heart. The incredible waste of a valuable life overwhelmed me.
I asked him if he would like to accept Jesus into his heart. He eagerly
responded, "Yes," and we prayed together. It was one of the most
moving moments I had ever experienced.
On April 9, my team
asked me to do "the close." Afterward, I told them that it was
my birthday and there was nothing else that I'd rather be doing. Then I
thanked them and began to walk away. As I turned my head toward the crowd,
I was humbled to see the inmates, who were on their feet, blessing me with a
standing ovation. The men were touched by my simple, heartfelt compassion.
I realized that my job was simply to tell them my story and let the Lord take
care of the rest.
A young man named
Steve, came up to me after the show and showed me the scars on his hands where
rats had bitten him as a child. He had previously accepted the Lord, but
struggled with his daily walk. My heart was breaking for him.
As I reflect on
these inspiring events, I think of the inmates' hearts that were touched by the
hope that my life represents. Twenty-three years ago, I really was a
seventeen-year-old convicted Class X felon. Moments before I cried out for
the Lord's help, I was lying in my bunk, thinking about killing a prison guard.
Now the pain of
yesterday is wiped away. I am happily married, live in a new house and
drive a fine car. My life is blessed and radically transformed.
Steadfast hope is a driving force that will keep prisoners seeking the face of
God, giving him time to answer their prayers and implement his will in their
lives.
At those events,
Jesus touched many lives — including mine. My heart will forever see the
faces of those inmates light up when I explained where I have been and where the
Lord continues to take me. Their faces are etched in my mind forever.