As I entered the second month of The World Race I was informed that I would be working with prison ministry in Granada. I was so excited to share the Gospel with the inmates here in Nicaragua. My expectations for this ministry couldn’t have been more incorrect.
The living conditions in the prison are absolutely horrendous. There are 10 men cramped into concrete cells that are only 10’ by 10’. That’s only 100 square feet. (Most of our closets in The United States are that size.)
For the past three weeks I have been building relationships with these convicts. I can’t speak Spanish well enough to hold a conversation with anyone yet, but with a translator I have been able to dive into their lives. God knows that I can’t give them anything except for love. I have spent hours upon hours investing in these men who desperately want to know about God. And how He can change their lives.
The other day we were at the prison painting the bars so that they don’t rust. The pastor who was there told me that he felt that I had a message to share with these men… I was shocked. I didn’t have a message! I had no idea how to relate to these men’s struggles. I’m traveling all the way around the globe sharing the Gospel and seeing amazing things, while these men are locked away from all light in cells that have nothing but concrete inside. They aren’t even able to have sheets for fear that they will hang themselves. How do I deliver this message to them? I was freaking out! God needed to show up… there is no way that I could do this alone!
For months I’ve been working with my mentor in Atlanta on public speaking. I never would have imagined that my first message would be to 250+ prisoners in Granada, Nicaragua, but God has an amazing way of working everything together for good. When I heard that I needed to deliver a 30 minute message in an hour I prayed to God to give me the words. My Pastor in Atlanta had encouraged me to be reading James’ Epistle while I’m on The Race. I had an overwhelming feeling that God wanted me to share on James Chapter 1. I sat down and started writing out a message for all these men. At first I was so nervous that I would botch it up, but then I felt an all absorbing feeling of peace. I knew that God was with me. I just started typing whatever came to my mind.
After an hour’s time the pastor comes to me to see how I am. I feel like it has been fifteen minutes. He looks at me and says, “It’s time to go.” My nerves start to creep up again. I begin to question why in the world I have accepted this challenge. As we walk from the visitor center to the heart of the prison, my fears start to dissipate into shear horror. It’s not until the loud bang of the steel door that I realize exactly where we are. As my eyes adjust to the darkness I can see a long dark corridor with cells on either side. In each cell door I see dozens of hands reaching out to grasp the last remnants of fresh air.
As I step forward I realize that the floor is incredibly sticky. Wait a second that’s not just sticky, I feel liquid creeping in-between my feet and my sandals. There is a layer of some kind of liquid on the floor. I realize that I smell something that I have never smelled before; it is the smell of burning elastic and bodily refuse. (The prisoners burn their elastic so as to repel the mosquitos.) As I walk forward to the sound of my shoes slushing through liquid, I hear a myriad of voices calling out to me.
There are hundreds of men excited to meet me. I never imagined that there were so many men in this person. The only men that I had seen over the past three weeks had been able to visit us because they were on good behavior. As I walk I feel several hands reaching out to touch me. Jessie (my translator and pastor here at the prison) tells me me that these men want to meet me. As we walk forward I shake hands with hundreds of men who desperately need to know that someone cares for them.
I start to feel sticky all over, and I realize that it is insanely hot and humid in here. With every step that I take I have to force back another tear. The living conditions are so horrendous. These men are clothed in nothing except underwear. The looks of desperation and longing cling to me as I move from cell to cell. With every cell door that I stop at I find a new reason to feel repulsed.
As I shake each man’s hand and look him in the eye, I no longer see a condemned man. Rather, I see men who were lost and are now on the verge of being found. I see men who now have reason to hope. I see men whose lives can be changed. I see myself in each one of these men. I feel like I am looking into the eyes of a younger me. I realize for the first time just how Jesus feels when He looks at us. I realize that except for Jesus I would be in this same situation for all eternity.
I must have been lost in thought, because I hear Jesse’s voice. He is asking me if I am ready. I just nod. I don’t want him to see that I am on the verge of tears. As we walk back up the mucky corridor my mind is completely absorbed with Luke 12:11-12, ”When they bring you before the synagogues and the rulers and the authorities, do not worry about how or what you are to speak in your defense, or what you are to say; for the Holy Spirit will teach you in that very hour what you ought to say.” I have an overwhelming belief that these are not going to be my words, they are going to be God’s words.
As I stand before these men I feel that I am now standing in front of friends. I hear many men calling out to me, “Dios le bendiga!” (God loves you!). I feel completely peaceful. I know that God is here. As I unlock my iPad to read my notes, I feel like God is telling me to just pray. So I start out the message with a prayer. As I pray for these men my voice cracks; I start to feel hot tears rolling down my face. The entire prison is completely silent. I feel that if this tear falls from my face and hits the ground, every single prisoner will hear it. I swallow and continue. This is how I feel for the entire message. I don’t know what I’m saying. I know that I’m following the notes and that these men are listening to me. I hear the rustle of pages flipping in several cells every time that I say another scripture reference. I know that God is speaking to so many men. As I cry out the last words of my message I don’t even hear Jesse translate before a roar of cheers and clapping breaks out from hundreds of prisoners. I start to come back to reality. I realize what is happening. I’ve never felt God’s presence more than in this very moment.
I proceed to tell these men that God has chosen them. Then I ask them all if they will choose Him. There is silence. Complete silence……….. then off in the distance I hear sobbing. I hear full grown men, hardened criminals, coarse men, sobbing. I’m speechless. Jesse stares at me with a look of pure shock. He asks me if I would like to say anything more. I say that I feel that he should pray in Spanish for these men to ask Jesus into their hearts.
I don’t remember what happened next. All I remember is being out in the bright Nicaraguan sunlight. My eyes were still trying to adjust when Jesse told me that he had felt God move. He said that several of the men accepted Christ Jesus as their Lord and Savior.
I write this first off as a praise to God’s mighty power. And second as an encouragement to anyone who struggles with bearing witness to God. I am so far from being a great public speaker, but God can use anyone to bring His Kingdom to earth. “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9
