When
we first pulled up to the Rizal Provincial Jail in Rizal,
Philippines, it all
looked very 
intimidating. We stopped at the gate, where several guards held modified M16 rifles or shotguns. The guards starred at us suspiciously and proceeded to tell Rollie, one of our ministry contacts, that something was
wrong with the permissions he had received only 3 days before. We would have to
jump through more hoops to gain access to the jail. A few days later, after a
lot of prayer and a few visits to the governor’s office, we returned to the
jail. This time, we were greeted by the guards with smiles, their weapons mostly out of sight and we went right in without even having to stop. This was
night and day from our first attempt to begin our prison ministry. We were
casually searched, our arms stamped showing that we are “visitors” and led back
the chapel area of the prison.
Once
inside, we still had no idea what to expect from the prisoners themselves.
Would these people be open to the gospel? Would they speak English? What about
security, would we be safe if something were to happen? What we found was that
in this particular jail, about 80% of the inmates actually professed to be
Christians! However, as it is in the US, that can mean many different things,
but it was start. They even had their own worship team, somewhat. guitar
player, a vocal leader and a drummer that used an interesting drum that he sat
on and played beneath him. First we
worshiped together, in English, a few songs
that were fairly new but mostly songs that I had to delve back into my
childhood to recall. After worship, we all had the opportunity to share our
stories, briefly, before Rollie put them into groups for each of us to lead
Bible studies with. This would be, for the most part, the format that our 2
hour a day, 3 day a week visits at RPJ consisted of.
The original study groups that we were with ended up
sticking for the entire time there, allowing us to really get to know the men
(or women, that the ladies on our team were with) on a deeper level. Several
shared their heart-wrenching stories of how they had ended up in the prison.
Due to the overwhelming poverty in the Philippines many turn to stealing and
dealing drugs to feed themselves and their families, this is the most common
offense. However, there were also those convicted of more serious crimes, such
as murder and rape. Regardless of their crimes, my heart broke for these men,
many of whom their families had turned their backs on. A prayer request for
virtually all of the men was that their families would be reconciled and that
they would come to visit them.
I always looked forward to our t
ime at the jail. I had become good friends with a
particular
inmate called Brian. Brian speaks English fairly well and would often interpret
for me, especially when I wanted to be sure that the men understood an
important point I was trying to emphasize. Many could understand English but
could not speak it very well, so Brian was a huge help to me. This is a
terrible picture, but you can see all my guy that were in my Bible study.
One conversation that broke me into pieces was with a man by
the name of Alex. He told me at one point during a Bible study that even though
he had accepted Christ as his savior, he still wasn’t sure if he was going to
heaven. I asked him why he thought that, because if he had made Jesus the Lord
of his life, that he can be sure of his salvation and that he would, one day,
go to heaven. He looked at me with tears in his eyes and said with very broken
English “but… I have done so many very bad things”. I don’t know if God can
forgive these things”. When I heard that, my 
own eyes welled up and for the
rest of my time there that day I sat with Alex and slowly explained our God’s
amazing grace, mercy and forgiveness. That no matter what we have done, all we
have to do is ask Him to forgive us and that those things are cast into the sea
of forgetfulness and remembered no longer. We eventually prayed together and
before I left for the day, he hugged me almost uncomfortably tightly and simply
said, “thank you, I understand now”.
If
I could have given up everything else I have seen and exper
ienced in the
Philippines just to have that one afternoon with Alex, it would have been worth
it. To see his face when the light came on and the grip of guilt and
condemnation was lifted off of him to be replaced with forgiveness and love,
it’s indescribable.
In a place where freedom is ever elusive, there are those at
RPJ, like Alex, that have found peace, forgiveness and freedom in Christ that can
not be hidden, stolen or locked away. As corny as it sounds, they have found
redemption… behind bars.
