In all the months of the Race, prison ministry was not something I thought I would do, nor really wanted to do. The thought of going into a prison in a foreign country that was filled with hardened, and mostly male, criminals did not appeal to me. So when we were told we were going to do be going to the prison this month, I did not raise my hand first to volunteer. However, I as I have learned along the way this year; some of God's greatest blessings and miracles happen when we do the things we are called to do, whether we want to or not, with an open and willing heart.
As I walked into the prison the next day, guitar in hand, I looked around and all I saw were tons of men. They were contained by a not so sturdy looking chain link fence and as myself, Kirk, and Emma walked by I tried to ignore the cat calls coming from the building to my right. They stood there, staring, as me and my teammate Emma walked by. We were a spectacle. Later we were told that we were the first visitors to come through for 6 months. There had been an escape in the early months of the year. 10 prisoners had escaped and they had been on a strict lockdown ever since. We were the first people to be allowed in.
Our duty was simple. Worship, give testimonies, offer prayer, and spend time with them. As we entered the "staging area" we called it, the prisoners came streaming in and sat down in front of us. There were about 40 of them on the floor in front of me, and about another 150 staring at us from the sidelines through the fence and slots in the windows of the buildings. I was more than a little intimidated; alone in a chair with my guitar and 400 eyes on me. I looked to my teammates who were on the sidelines next to me and as I met their encouraging eyes I began to play one of my all time favorites, Amazing Grace. I closed my eyes, saying a silent prayer to myself for peace. Silence ensued, and suddenly I felt as if I had ascended into another realm. Complete peace came over me and I felt as if it was effortless to sit there and sing, truly giving my heart to the Lord.
It occurred to me that this was some of the first live music the prisoners had probably heard in quite sometime. Suddenly I felt honored to be there. All fear had faded and had been replaced with love and genuine care for these men and women. I realized what we were, a blessing from the Lord, to these men and women. I opened my eyes, gazing around the room at the worship that was happening all around me, and looked down at my knee. A small feather rested there, as if placed by an angel from above. My heart skipped a beat.
Is that you Lord?
Yes my child, I am here. I am with you.
I continued playing, and with a new level of trust and love in my heart I did something that is normally very hard for me to do. I went off the map and began singing from my heart, unscripted and unplanned. The Holy Spirit was leading and I was not going to let him go. As I finished I looked to my brother Kirk who was reared up and ready to go. It was as if he had gotten the same call.
With conviction in his voice he spoke, "I feel like there is someone in this room who wants to give their heart to the Lord, but who hasn't yet."
As he gazed around the room a man in the second row raised his hand. Kirk motioned him to come up and asked him why he raised his hand.
Through our translator he confessed that he wanted to give his heart to the Lord. Kirk and the other YDC volunteers prayed over him with myself still playing in the background.
Yes, I thought! This is why I came on the Race!
The rest of the service was just as beautiful. Another woman came to the front and gave a testimony of having received money she had been owed for a long time that morning after my other sister Jess had prayed with her the day before.
As we left I thought, 'we just conducted a whole church service out here today.'
But then I remembered that we hadn't done anything. We simply showed up and trusted God. He did the rest.
