It’s taken me a couple of days to process what happened on Friday, September 14th. I’ve had life changing experiences already on this trip, and it’s barely been over a week since we’ve been here. But what happened that day changed me. There was a shift in the seriousness of the work I’m doing. I’ve said it over and over again to myself that I’m not here to go on vacation; that I’m not here to party in different countries. I’m here to be the hands and feet of Jesus. And with my gifts being used in ways I could never have dreamt of, God humbly called me to preach to the prisoners of the Centro Preventivo Para Hombres Santa Cruz De Quiche Prison.
It’s hard for me to find the words that best describe what went on behind the cold walls and barb-wired fence. The morning of September 14th went as any other day. Woke up in the heat of the morning in my tent. Ate breakfast. Wrote in my journal. Morning service with my squad. But as the day went on and the time approached for us to get into the back of the truck and head off to the prison, I found myself detached from emotions that are explained with words and sentences. It was time for me to preach; it was time for a revival.
Now, for anyone who wants to know what I preached on, my premise for the sermon was that since we are all men who hunger and Jesus is the Bread of Life, the only way we are ever to find full satisfaction in this dying world is to partake of the Bread of Life who is Christ Jesus (from an exegetical exposition of John 6.)
But it wasn’t about how long I studied for, not about how exegetical I preached; if anything the Lord has been showing me how it’s nothing that I’ve ever or will ever do. It’s the power of Christ in me, the movement of the Holy Spirit, and by His grace the regeneration of the hearts of the men were seemingly too far away from grasping any hope.
God moved so deeply in that prison. What seemed like men who were enslaved by the conditions of their imprisonment, in reality were saints being freed to fall in love with Jesus Christ in ways they’ve never done before. Instead of metal bars that would forever contain the haunting pasts of murderers, thieves, and criminals, there was freedom bursting through beams of injustice that surrounded these sons of the living God. Even though most of these men would never see the world outside their prison hell, their hearts were full because their hope wasn’t in their earthly freedom, but their hope was in Christ who already set them free.
As we prayed over them, washed their feet, gave them water, snacks, candy, and said our goodbyes for the last time, I had so much peace in my heart. I cried, because that day would be the last time I would be there. But as the prison guards rounded up the prisoners and as their faces pierced through the prison bars, I knew it wouldn’t be the last time I would actually see them. I’d see them in Paradise as free men; that one day when our eyes close for the last time on this earth, we will open our eyes to Christ, and we will stand side by side without any prison walls and metal bars between us. There wouldn’t be a language barrier, barb-wires, or injustice. We would be free brothers in Christ.
