I was recently witness to something that has left me without adequate words to explain. But because of it's power and impact, I have to try. So here goes.
My dad began talking about prison ministry over a year ago when he signed up for participation in a correspondence bible study program. He didn't talk about it much - I had to ask him to tell me about it, which is weird. My dad is a talker and he likes to tell his daughters about things that are going on with him. Once I asked, he was more than happy to share. Then shortly before Christmas I heard a mention of him participating in something bigger - a different program. Not written - a visit to the prison. Once again, he didn't talk about it that much or make a big thing of it, which again is strange because we are a talking family. So in the beginning of February when I began hearing about the scope of this new endeavor, we all started to see the effect it was having on my dad. This was big. Bigger than he'd let on. He would be part of a team of men going into the prison from Thursday evening through Sunday night (staying at a nearby church at night) ministering to 30 some prisoners in a medium to high security facility. It would require 30 hours of training leading up to the weekend, serious prayer commitment, posters and placemats made, and 150 dozen cookies. KAIROS is known throughout the country for their cookies. Check it out online and you'll find references to KAIROS cookies. They take cookies into the facility and every resident and staff member gets at least 2 dozen homemade cookies from KAIROS with a hand delivered blessing from God.
Hearing about the cookies was the first inkling I had to the impact of this adventure. My dad and NOT my mom had not signed up for this. And I still wish I had been there to see when Dad first told her that this was a confirmed requirement. 150 dozen cookies. Seriously. I'm surprised she didn't kawhomp him with a frying pan - or a cookie sheet. My mom LOVES being inconvenienced for something my dad has planned..... ;) reunions, dinners, business trips.... yikes. She loves my dad but she doesn't hold back the fury. And I'll bet this was a doozey at first :) But strangely, by the time I talked to her, she had found some peace about it. My sisters and I prayed hard that week. Eventually we found that she wasn't mad - overwhelmed maybe - but totally acknowledging that God was in control of this and He was calling them to get involved with a church body. Still very hesitant to ask for help, though. By the following week she was determined and with some help from my sister, her family and a friend, and the strength of the Holy Spirit to keep them going, she was astounded that they had nearly enough baked already. They were both surprised that I had friends from church and bible studies that would be willing to commit to pray and bake cookies without even knowing my parents! Not out of obligation but willingness to serve God. God was speaking in every offered prayer and cookie.
When I headed up to Ohio to drop off the cookies at the end of February, I was listening and practicing our reflection song for the upcoming week's worship. The bridge says, "send us out to be, your hands and feet" over and over. And I got all teary, that more than anyone in our family, my father was obeying that call from God - sent out to be His hands and feet. And that lives would be changed that weekend for the glory of God. My dad was truly doing something radical that could result in the gospel going forth to all the world. Who sees that kind of change in their parents in their life? My parents gave us a tremendous hunger for the Word of God and were experiencing that unsettling feeling that God wasn't done. He wanted them to share from their overflow of blessing. How awesome that Kairos is the Greek word meaning a moment or undetermined period of time in which something special happens. It wasn't just the weekend that was turning out to be special. Something bigger was happening. To my dad and my mom and even to our whole family.
So it's finally Sunday afternoon and mom and I pull up to the entrance to Trumbull Correctional Institute at nearly the same time and drove into the parking lot. I had been looking forward to this time for nearly 6 weeks and it had finally arrived. I was not even a little apprehensive - was I just weird? Mom caught me up on dad's recent phone calls. Everything he had to say was positive. His host at TCI was talkative and receptive. It was strange deciding what to wear to avoid metal of any kind but I guess I did okay. No beeping as I passed through the metal detector. We waited with a bunch of folks to make the walk over to the gymnasium where the ceremony would take place.
So much about the ceremony was familiar. It was a gym, filled with 200-250 folding chairs, a podium, a microphone, a songbook of praise lyrics. It was so hard to remember that the men that sat in the rows just in front (previous graduates of KAIROS) were incarcerated for some serious things. It was far easier to remember that they were praising God with me as brothers in Christ.
My life has been so unreasonably blessed that so much of this took time to process. Every single solitary celebratable event in my life was met with smiles, love, food, and proud hugs from my father and mother and sisters and as much extended family as would fit in the house. Birthdays, graduations, new jobs, promotions, anniversaries. As these men walked in to all of us singing "When the Saints Come Marching In" maybe that was the most celebration that any of them had ever enjoyed in support of something they did. I recalled how shocking it was as a teacher in a school of at risk children to learn that so many of my students had parents who cared so little about how they were doing in school. Many of those kids could have grown up into these men. Never celebrated. Never encouraged. So it wasn't hard to smile at them. It wasn't hard to clap until your hands hurt. It was awfully hard not to hug them. These guys - no matter where this weekend landed them on the spectrum were moving toward receiving the gift of salvation. They were on their way. And some of them were now my brothers. I wanted to whoop like we were at a Steeler's game. But I didn't. :) I thought they might remove me.... :)
I have to tell you the truth. The thing that packed the biggest wallop was my dad. And that surprised me. Just to give you a background, my father has no tolerance for misbehavior. Little tolerance for arrogance and swagger. Frankly, sassing was one fast way to get him riled up when I was a kid - heck, it still works today. Disrespect from the grandkids even unsettles him. So this was a little weird - these guys had swagger to spare. I guess part of me held my breath a little. Residents were not to thank the volunteers. No performances. Keep it short. They had rules and they were just dying to break them. :) I kind of wondered what he thought when they danced across the line of the rules. I saw some inkling that he at least noticed. But as we talked later, over dinner, I would find out that he had none of the reactions I expected. His love for Jesus and these men had made all of that intolerance fly right out the window. More than anything, as I saw him talk about these men, I saw in my father gentleness, compassion, and tenderness. And while I never doubted the love of my dad once in life, I was floored by this. He had learned so much about what brought these men to this point and had come to grips with his own sinful nature to such a degree, that there was now no condemnation in him for them. I was truly seeing the reflection of my savior in my earthly dad. Praise God....
Ironically, peer pressure appeared to spur many of the men to get up and talk. A few whoops and hollers from their fellow residents and they would give. And while on the surface it looked, well - like peer pressure, I've laughed since then thinking - what the heck! When has peer pressure ever resulted in something so good in their lives?? Go, peer pressure!!!! They still had to get up there and say something..... And speak they did.
I cried a lot less than I expected. I guess a part of me expected heartfelt confessions and tearfully empassioned testimony. But in the hours since, I have thought a lot about what I heard and what I didn't hear that night. These men have spent lifetimes guarding their feelings and afraid of being vulnerable. And placing the words they shared in that context changes everything. "I have a lot to think about." "I've never felt more love than I did from these total strangers." "I need Jesus." "I don't want to forget how I feel." "I love these guys." That is powerful when you consider what their default behavior and feelings probably would be. And who they've had to be to survive - in life and in prison. Those words aren't just surprising - they're supernatural.
But surprisingly, this wasn't what broke my heart either. There is a video that plays in my head.
Part 1 - Levort Block was my dad's host for the weekend. I see my dad straining as Levort walks in. Dad's neck literally looks longer trying to find Levort. Daddy excitedly points him out to us - he has a ballcap on. Levort doesn't see him. Levort's not very tall and he wanders to a seat in the far back - nearly as far away from us as possible. And as everyone else settles and quiets, Levort calls out and waves to my dad. And my dad - the guy who never likes to do anything that might make him look like a rule breaker or embarrass himself- shoots his hand up and I'm pretty sure I'd swear yells something out...... what the heck... :)
Part 2 - Levort walks up to the mic during their open mic time and says some words. He's not to thank anyone. But at one point he stops looks at Daddy and thanks his sponsor and holds out his hand in dad's direction. I turn to Daddy and his hand is over his mouth and his reddened eyes are looking down. Having a hard time keeping it together. This man has touched the heart of my father.
Part 3 - The program is over and everyone visiting the prison is asked to leave. It's not a request. We have to go. So we stand up and move across the room. Daddy hesitates from his stormtrooper walk. He stands on his toes and strains his neck again to see if he can find Levort. My father simply cannot leave that room without saying goodbye to Levort. And despite knowing what he's done, my dad wants - no needs him to meet my mom and I. Daddy introduces us. We shake his hand with smiles and warmth and love - I restrain my desire to hug this man who has given my father such a gift. Daddy hugs him and we leave. My dad has been moved by the supernatural power of the Spirit.
And if all that isn't enough, Daddy has committed to attending the KAIROS night on Thursdays at the prison, over an hour away from home. At first he thought it just might be a couple of times but after this last Thursday, he knows that it is just as important as the time he spent with the residents over that weekend. My dad is mentoring and discipling. Somehow, as his daughter and a woman who proudly bears the seal of the Spirit in part due to the kind of father he is, I can think of no better way to honor Jesus Christ than for him to use his gift of leadership and love to mentor another child in our royal family.... My dad has love to spare and so does our Heavenly Father. To God be the Glory.
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