Angels Amongst Us?

That first week in prison is a doozy!

Last chance cartoon

Have you ever noticed how God doesn’t sugar coat things? No tiptoeing around hard topics to make them more palatable to us. He just throws it out there using command words like “shall” and “will”. And it’s a knee knocking test of your faith when you hear those absolutes without any reasonings and explanations. I got one of these not-so-subtle revelations when I first got to prison.

That first week in prison is the toughest. Struggling to adapt to a new life, devoid of privacy, and living in close quarters with some truly concerning characters. The repeat offenders took to it like ducks to water but for a first timer like me, it was shocking.

Most of those first few days are spent sitting in the medical facilities being subjected to every test known to man. It’s a mental tap dance trying to get your head around living in a gang-run prison while the staff is obsessed with high blood pressure and a1c levels. The facilities were so dissimilar to a typical doctors office that it felt like you were getting care in downtown Beirut. It was crowded and noisy, and more like a third-world outdoor market than a place for medical care. There was no proper waiting room, just a long hallway with benches on either side filled with inmates sitting shoulder to shoulder. Going to any doctor isn’t fun but this place took discomfort to the next level. Rest assured, if you know a doctor with a terrible bedside manner or maybe some malpractice problems in his rear view, all is not lost because the bureau of prisons has a place for him.

I won’t run down that rabbit hole. On my third trip to the medical building, I was surprised to find that the waiting area, which was usually a symphony of ear abuse, was completely empty. Maybe I got lucky this morning, I thought. 

As I walked between the empty benches, I enjoyed the calm before the storm, expecting the chaos to begin at any moment.

To my surprise, no one else showed up. Over the loudspeaker, I heard the announcement that inmate movement had closed which mean’t I had a precious hour alone in this hallway. It was amazing! No gunslinging rap or loud arguments in Spanish for sixty whole minutes. I’d already realized that alone time in prison would be rare, so this seemed like a gift. I’d just started talking to God so I figured maybe this stuff with Him was already beginning to pan out. I soon found out it was something else entirely.

I took a seat and zoned out for a while. A few minutes later I heard someone approaching down the hall but I assumed it was a nurse and didn't bother looking up. 

Then I "felt" someone sit down on the bench directly across from me. Thinking it was an officer and that I’d done something wrong, I raised my eyes and a jolt of surprise shot through me. Before me sat a giant! A black behemoth with his head down and a tangle of dreads hiding his face. Both of his arms were a canvas of ink, telling their own silent stories.

My first thought was, Really dude? Out of all these empty benches, you have to sit down right across from me. 

But more importantly, I wondered why he chose to sit there. Directly across from me. I tried but couldn't think of any positive outcomes from this encounter. In prison, you never knew what people wanted, so the best thing to do is to keep interactions to a minimum.

I prayed that the nurse would call me soon.

I studied the man from the corner of my eye. He wore white overalls streaked with dirt and yellow knee-high rubber boots, the attire given to dishwashers in the chow hall. He was an imposing presence. The dreads and his sheer size reminded me of the alien from a predator movie. 

In that moment, my survival mantra echoed in my mind: Keep your head down and your mouth shut.

Given the racial divisions in prison, I figured there was a good chance he wouldn't say a word. Maybe he sat there to mark territory or something. But to my dismay, he looked up and started talking. 

With a voice that could have easily graced a Harvard lecture hall, he asked, "What are you in for?" The stark contrast between his speech and his appearance momentarily left me speechless.

After taking a deep breath, I replied, "Odometer fraud, rolling back the miles on cars."

He nodded thoughtfully and said, "That's not so bad. How long did you get?”

"Fifty-seven months," I answered despondently, feeling a bit guilty since my sentence was much shorter than most here.  He looked like he had been in prison for a while and probably had a long time left.

"I've been in solitary confinement for nine months. Just got out last week," he shared.

Nine months of solitary confinement? I couldn't imagine. The months ahead of me seemed to stretch forever….but solitary?

"That's tough, man," I nodded, as if I could remotely understand that experience.

He proceeded then to give me a ten minute lecture on the do’s and don’ts of prison. Chow hall edict, bathroom usage, exercise yard rules, and many other small things that would make my stay less eventful.

"When he finished he said, “I've had a lot of time with nothing to do but think.” Then he continued. "Perhaps I could give you some advice?"

Weirder and weirder I thought, "Ummm, Sure."

"You will never get another chance like this one. Away from the world and its distractions," he said. "You can have your life changed but you have to choose. It takes more than saying….it takes doing."

I nodded, thinking of the absurdity of this gang banger predator guy giving me life advice. "Want me to tell you something else that I know for sure is true?" he asked.

I shrugged nervously, wondering where this was going, "Maybe."

He shook his head, smiling. "I know, I can get pretty intense sometimes," he said. Then, he suddenly stopped and stared into my eyes as he slowly said, "Listen to me, this is your last chance. You will not get another. Make it count."

Chills ran down my back as I stared at him, unable to utter a word. Before I could respond, the nurse called him to her office. As he walked away, I heard him murmur, "Good luck, bro."

At first, I dismissed him as just another crazy inmate in prison. But the months went by and I never saw him again. And he was a truly noticeable guy. The entire compound shared meals together, yet he simply vanished after that encounter.

Oh, and I found out later that they can’t keep you in solitary for more than 90 days.

Like so much with God, I didn’t see it until later. I don't claim to know who or what he was, but I got the message. Over my years in prison I came to see that every part of the gospel is intertwined with every other part. What we think about, how we spend our leisure time, and our obedience all affect our connection with God. That Doing your life for the Lord is what following is all about. And the Lord will not settle for a partial commitment. He shouldn’t either, He suffered horribly in order to give us this one chance. I beg you not to waste it. There is a life on the other side of complete surrender that I couldn’t have imagined that day in medical.

Consider the sobering thought that someone you meet today may be like I was that day, down to their last chance.

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