The Lord is funny. He truly has a sense of humor. When we were told we would be doing Prison Ministry here in Madagascar I had to laugh.
Seriously God, out of all the teams here we get to do prison ministry again? What are you trying to tell me, Father?
As I expressed last month, God is definitely showing me He will be using my life experiences to reach the unreached.
God is teaching me that everyone’s story matters. He’s sure validating this through the ministry opportunities that have been assigned to my team and I.
I’m becoming more aware of what God is doing, how He’s orchestrating everything, from my team dynamic to my ministry assignments.
He doesn’t make accidents, He’s intentional, I just have to be more in tune when He speaks to me.
That’s what I am learning on this trip, being in tuned with the Holy Spirit. It’s just easier that way. Why try to do it on my own? That’s just too hard.
That’s something I’ve prayed about the last few months and am now walking through.
Anyway, after laughing at the news of yet another prison ministry opportunity, I got excited about visiting the Antananarivo Penitentiary. I am getting more comfortable and excited to see how God can use my life experiences and skill sets to speak about His awesome love for the world.
Out of the bat, I recognized that Madagascar was different from our last two countries. Driving from the airport to our housing location the first day, I could tell this was a third world country. Keeping that in mind, I wondered what the prison would be like.
Would it be like the Botswana or American prisons I’ve visited?
Our ride to the prison was bumpy, filled with a hypnotizing smog and trash aroma, resulting in a bit of a headache.
When we arrived, we gave our passports to the prison guards and walked in through what felt like century old stone buildings. As we walked by we immediately ran into inmates, all wearing different old clothes, no uniforms were in use it appeared.
We greeted them by smiling and saying “Salama” and kept walking up stairs towards our final destination, the communal area.
An inmate opened a large door and as it opened all I could see was a sea of men, 400-500 pairs of eyes looking at us walk in.
We caught their attention. Maybe it was because we were foreigners, maybe because we were women, or both? Who knows. All I know is we were recognizable amongst the crowd…something I’m learning to embrace as an American missionary.
We walked into what looked like their dormitory/communal area. A large space covered in dirt with a few stalls selling things. And one stage with a cross in front of it. That was our final destination.
Was this where they lived? No, it couldn’t be.
I was at awe at what I was seeing. Despite the fact that I shouldn’t compare, I was comparing all the prisons/jails I had visited before and this by far did not feel like a prison to me. It reminded me of something but I just didn’t know how to put it into words.
All I knew is this was not humane. People should not live here in the year 2016. Even if they committed a crime.
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I was thrown off at what I was seeing. Until one of my teammates said, “this reminds me of a concentration camp” and it clicked…..”yes you’re right, a concentration camp!”
Do you remember learning about the Holocaust in your high school US History class? Remember when you would see the pictures of the skinny people with old dirty clothes, their sad and hopeless look, and the dilapidated buildings during this time?
That is the image that my eyes saw that day.
It took me a few minutes to process where I was and why I was there. I had to focus on what I was going to say to the inmates. How should I share my story with them without considering their circumstance and recognizing my privilege of being an American? Despite America’s faults with the prison system, this did not even compare.
I prayed and allowed God to give me the words because I didn’t know what to say considering their conditions in the prison.
The pastor who we were working with started our time with Malagasy worship music. There is something cool about worshipping in a different language. Before this trip, I never thought I would be able to do it but the Holy Spirit has shown itself to be multilingual and multicultural.
During our worship time, I noticed one young man in particular. There must have been 200 inmates there to see us and the rest were hanging out around the dormitory buildings but they could still see & hear us.
This young man (in his mid-twenties) wearing a yellow shirt caught my attention. During praise and worship, he danced and sung to the Lord with so much joy and all his heart. His joy was infectious and it motivated me to do the same.
Despite his circumstances he worshipped and praised God! I was in awe!
I love seeing people glorify God during the good, the bad and the ugly.
It’s not common for us to do it. It’s not in our human nature. But that’s how it’s supposed to be. And that is exactly what he was doing.
God put it in my heart to tell this man that God is proud of him. That he loves him very much. I wanted to tell him so bad but we were rushed out of the place because there were too many men surrounding us.
I will never forget this young man.
I don’t know his name.
I don’t know his situation.
I don’t know how long he will continue being incarcerated.
I just know that amongst the large crowd of men, his joyous spirit touched my heart.
He taught me to always choose joy.
To always choose joy despite my circumstances.
I believe God honors us in the midst of our pain.
God’s plans always favor us, despite our inhumane decisions or bad choices in life.
Even if we don’t understand the process, He is for us.
I’m in the process of walking through this joy-filled life.
It’s tough. I know.
But i know it’ll be well worth it.
