Jail joys

One of life's greatest pleasures is sharing the joy of discovery. And when you have a group of men in front of you where the only shred of self-esteem left in them is if they are perceived as tough, macho and worldly wise. I've long since learned they don't need to be told they are sinners, the heart of every inmate is vividly aware of their sins.

 The guilt and toxic shame is hidden behind walls of pride and bravado and they need not be reminded. Oh! but what they haven't heard is that Christ seeks the boy in them, the child that desperately needs to be told they have value, they matter, they actually have a Father, unlike theirs that came home with whiskey breath, seeking to find fault, any fault. When the truck parks that brought Dad home from work, it was something that sent fear and alarm and they rushed to their room or out the back door. When you hear your mother futilely try to pacify his ill nature and hot temper before it breaks into violence, as the shrieks and sounds of things breaking resulting in your own mother huddled in a flood of tears. And you sit utterly helpless, feeling a weight of guilt no child should ever shoulder. 

Soothing a sin sick soul, offering hope to the hopeless, lifting up the downcast, these are the joys of sharing the gospels life affirming message that sends rays of light and hope into hardened and parched souls. To have the joy and privilege of waving the blood stained banner over the least, last and lost;  watching a beam of light come into their eyes, hope in hopelessness, man! give me Jesus! let me share the "old, old story how a Savior came from glory, how He gave His life on Calvary to save a wretch like me."