You never know where God’s Spirit is going to move…
First of all, let me assure you that I haven’t been arrested. This isn’t that kind of story. But I was inside of a jail cell, and it may be my favorite story so far on the Race.
This month, my team had the opportunity to go to a jail here in Nicaragua. Since our team is mostly female, many of our ladies met with the female prisoners and shared testimonies and Scriptures. Meanwhile, my teammate Ryan and I received the opportunity to go inside the jail cell where the moderately well-behaved men stay. And in an exciting development, my teammates Julia and Rachel were also allowed to come with us. It was only the second time our translator had ever brought females inside.
When I walked in, my senses were immediately overwhelmed. The cell was small, maybe the size of an average kitchen in the U.S. There was one lonely light bulb illuminating the windowless room. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw concrete walls, lined with the cardboard slabs that serve as beds on the hard concrete floor. There were men. Lots of shirtless men. And they were shirtless for good reason. There were roughly 35-40 of them squeezed into a tiny space with no windows, A/C, or even fans. The only source of fresh air was the grated door into the cell. This also explained the smell, which was a combination of the body odor of 35 sweaty men, and the smell emanating from the (thankfully separate) bathroom area they all shared.
Anyway, we walked in, and they insisted that we sit on their “beds.” But before we could sit down, the room erupted into a spontaneous Spanish worship session. And when I say erupted, I mean very loud singing, and as much jumping and dancing as the cramped space allowed.
After three songs, we settled in (as much as we could settle into a tiny room that now contained 4 World Racers, two other American missionaries, and a translator, in addition to the 35 normal occupants).
First Julia shared about the parable of the shepherd who left the 99 sheep to find the lost one. She spoke of the worth God sees in these men, regardless of the labels they have attached to them. She then turned it around to challenge them, once they knew Jesus, to take care of the flock around them.
When she finished (to loud applause) Ryan shared part of his testimony, and how God moved in his life, and how he had come to be baptized.
The Holy Spirit was really moving by this point, and one of the other missionaries who visits the jail on a regular basis, had already been planning to speak about baptism before he heard Ryan’s message. He took the prisoners through some practical steps in baptism as well as some reasons why baptism is important, before handing me the figurative baton.
In terms of word count, I didn’t have a lot to say, but in terms of content, God had very much put something on my heart, and I couldn’t wait to share. That morning, God had brought me to Luke 23, which narrates Jesus’ death. So I talked about one of the criminals who was crucified next to Jesus. The criminal whose misdeeds had caught up to him. The criminal who had been condemned by men. The crimimal who was in a hopeless situation. The criminal in the worst situation of his life. The criminal who was dying an excruciating death.
But he was also the criminal who found hope where there seemed to be none. The criminal who joined Jesus in Paradise that day.
So in short, I told them that whatever they might have done, there is always hope for them because there is always Jesus.
When I was done, Rachel wrapped the whole thing up with a great illustration of a spiritual prison cell with an open door.
And with the open door analogy, there was an opening to share some exciting news: Our missionary friend, and the others who faithfully visit the jail week after week, had set up a baptism service to take place in the jail. And when he asked if anyone wanted to be baptized, several hands went up.
Seriously, praise God!
Then, another spontaneous worship session broke out, somehow even more wild than the first. It continued for several minutes after we left the cell.
This past Thursday, they held the baptism service at the jail, and 38 people were baptized. I was sadly unable to go and witness it myself, but I don’t have to see it to be excited.
God is moving in Nicaragua. He’s so, so good.
