“I’m going to prison today.”
-Me
“Ok, what time will you be back?”
-Stacey
“About 5:00. It’s only about a 3 hour sentence.”
-Me
Living on a banana plantation in the mountains of a Philipino
Island is where I find myself this month. One of my goals during my time here
is to see if I can eat 33 bananas in three days, but I’m slightly concerned
about what the physical implications of that much potassium would do to my
digestive system. Why do I want to do this you may ask? Well, Tommy, one of my
teammates, once ate 33 mangoes in 3 days when we were in the African bush. His
lips broke out from all of the acid, but it is an incredible story and I kind
of want to have a similar story to tell for myself. I’ll let you know by the
end of the month if I do it.
***Believe it or not, I didn’t type out that random dialogue
at the beginning of this blog to throw you off. I am going to talk about my day
in prison, I just wanted to share a little bit of my Jessica thought process
with the crazy banana idea J.
Still stomping around in the dirt in my same ‘ole trusty
Chacos, I look around the ministry site I am living on and realize that I am
walking into month eight of the World Race. With the same quick-dry shirt and
red basketball shorts, I think to myself that within a month, my lifestyle has
completely flipped, once again. We are partnering with Kid International
Ministries here in Malabalay, Philippines, and doing a heck of a lot of unique
ministries with this organization.
Today I found myself sitting on the world’s tiniest bench,
about a foot above the ground, with my knees jutting upward to compensate for
how low the bench sat. I was looking through iron bars at the tender face of a
young Pilipino man, intently listening to his heart about his past life
addicted to drugs and why he was in prison. With the fingers on my right hand
wrapped around the bar, I could feel the cheap, blue paint peeling off onto my
skin as I loosened my intense grip. I was sitting outside of a jail cell,
talking to inmates about their hopes, dreams, and faith in the Lord.
This prison wasn’t like any prison I’d seen in movies, or
pictured in my head. As we walked down the hall, by containers full of men, I
wasn’t greeted with crass comments or shouts for vain attention; instead I was
greeted with hands outstretched, humble hellos, and gifts of beautiful
beadwork. Each cell held about fifty men, sleeping stacked in bunk beds three
deep, with hardly enough room to walk around, or get any kind of exercise.
Our contact helped start a prison ministry here at one of
the Philipino prisons, (more like holding cells for people accused waiting on
their trial) and he asked us to come see what the Lord was doing in these tiny
cells. There are four cells full of men, one cell with women, and one cell for
minors. With the ministry, our contact, William, first presents the gospel to
the inmates, then disciples them, and finally helps them get a business started
within the prison help support themselves. The prison only pays for their food,
so unless they have family bringing them money (most of them don’t), they have
to beg for soap, clothes, and other miscellaneous items. William has been
teaching them how to be self-sustaining.
With this program, cell number 2 has been the most
respondent. They’ve seen the hope that comes out of following the Lord, and are
starting to bring Kingdom within the prison. They lead bible studies every
morning, sing worship song throughout the day, and constantly talk about the
love that the Lord brings. They’ve started their own bead-making business, and
craft bracelets, necklaces, purses, and all kind of artwork that they cell to
the visitors of the prison. William told us that will three months of racers
supporting their business, the whole cell (fifty men) will be self-sustained
for the year. So friends and family, can you think of where you’ll be getting
your souvenirs?
Today I sat on that tiny bench and listened to accused
murders and recovering drug addicts sing song after song about Jesus’ mercy and
grace. I sat and talked with an older man and his wife about the hope we have
in Christ. He had been in jail for almost a year and was preaching to me about how we never have to worry
because our Almighty God is in control. Again, my “troubles” begin to look very
small as I see the hope burning in this man’s eyes. Keep in mind he’s still sleeping
on a cement floor and spending his days just hoping for an hour outside in the
sunshine.
It was so humbling to have to ask the warden permission for
a grown man to be escorted outside for an hour to talk, only to finish our
conversation through enclosed bars. But hope rang from floor to ceiling in that
place. The Spirit is alive and moving in each and every jail cell; breaking
hearts and bringing redemption to the wounds and “hopeless” situations of these
forgotten people. That’s the Jesus we serve; taking helpless hearts and
restoring them to something greater than we ever thought possible. He’s like a
superhero-coming in at the last minute and doing the action no one thought
could be done, and making it look effortless.
