Each week I face a group of strangers at the service in the jail—a hardened lot, with pasts so horrific, survivors of such vicious abuse and oppression, that one can scarcely imagine living through it.

And there I stand, equipped with nothing but my prayer that Christ will fall upon every heart, that His Spirit will descend and bring life to hearts surrounded by walls so impenetrable that only God can prevail.

And He does. Hardened faces begin to grimace, lips, long trained to mock danger, start to quiver, heads bow, and eyes begin to water as a tear streams over a prison tattoo. Ferocity and bravado begin to be eclipsed by the Holy Spirit, and the inner child starts to push through all their resistance. A visible change takes place.

This—this is the power of prayer and the wonder-working, matchless love of Jesus.