“…You can only go into the cells if you are prepared to share something.” I half listened as my mind tried to focus on what our host was explaining to us about prison ministry for the next morning.
Every fiber of my being was beyond exhausted from the day. From falling asleep at 2 a.m. that morning, to wake up at 6 a.m. for quiet time with God, 7 a.m. breakfast, 8 a.m. to 12 p.m. pile into the bed of a pick up truck with 13 other people and ride out to the farm to dig holes in the mud to plant plantain trees, get rained on, eat a smashed, hot, mushy, peanut butter sandwich for lunch, pass out for 20 minutes on the dirty, muddy, bug crawling, concrete slab, before piling back in the bed of the truck to go prayer walking in the villages in the heat of the day, finally coming back “home” and sorting through donated items for a local Christmas bizarre, dinner, hour and a half of book study, and an hour of team time— to now- sitting in my dried sweat, mud, most likely mixed with cow manure, sunburned skin, wild, wind-blown hair, glazed over stare, and absolutely zero energy in any part of my body.
I didn’t put much thought into her invitation because I knew that there was no possible way I could prepare anything to share between now and 8 a.m., as every second between now and then would be spent dead on my mattress.
“The two men will go into the cells with the male prisoners. One group of women will be prayer walking around the jail and another group will do crafts and share testimonies with the female prisoners out in the common area. There is a possibility that maybe a group of three women can go into the cells with the men as well, this is very unlikely, but you can only go into the cells if you are prepared to share something.”
The next morning I woke up at 6 a.m. like every other day, to have alone time with God. I was excited about prison ministry. My teammate Julia was very excited too as the Lord had laid something on her heart to share with the prisoners in the cells. She started sharing with me and then she stopped and said, “Do you want to come in with me??”
Public speaking in general is extremely nerve wrecking for me, even with being prepared and in front of people I actually know, let alone, unprepared to a group of Nicaraguan prisoners. I thought about it and quickly dismissed it saying, “I don’t have anything prepared and I don’t really think my testimony is very relevant to them.” She took me by surprise when she simply answered, “So?”
“But when they deliver you up, take no thought how or what you will say: for it shall be given you in that same hour what you will say. For it is not you that speak, but the Spirit of your Father which speaks in you.”
Matthew 10:19-20
The whole way to the prison, as I sat on the railing of the bed of the pick up truck trying to engage all my core muscles as we bumped, swerved, and braked to maneuver through endless speedbumps, pot holes, bikers, mopeds, cows, horse and buggies, and stray dogs, to keep me from falling out at any given second, I talked to God about it.
He convicted me.
“If you’re not here to tell prisoners about the freedom you’ve found in My Son, why are you here?”
“I the Lord have called you in righteousness… to bring out the prisoners from the prison, and them that sit in darkness out of the prison house.”
Isaiah 42:6-7
“But I don’t have anything to share!” I anxiously thought. So I bargained with Him, which I don’t recommend doing by the way. “Okay, I will go if no one else goes, but I won’t volunteer. If You want me in there, You have to put my in there because I don’t feel confident in this in any way!”
This calmed my nerves because I knew that going into the cells would probably be something that people would be chomping at the bit to do, so I figured I had found a way to stay in my comfort zone.
We walked up to the prison.
As we walked through the jagged, rusty, barbed wire gate, the first thing we see is, what can only best be described as an outdoor human-sized cage. Maybe 100 ft by 40 ft and 15 ft tall, a few pieces of tin and cardboard were strewn across the top as a “roof”. Inside there were easily at least 100 men stuffed inside. All of them were pressed up against the bars to watch us as we walked past. Some cat-called and whistled. Others simply stared with an incredibly uncomfortable gaze.
My excitement from this morning quickly turned to fear and apprehension.
These prisoners in the outside cage actually had it the best. It was the prisoners who were inside in the cells that were far worse off.
My teammate, Julia, found me as I felt like I was lost in a whirlwind of shock.
She met my gaze and with wide eyes and a huge smile she said, “So you wanna come inside with me??” I paused. I remembered my bargain with God.
“I will, but only if no one else wants to go.”
She rushedly told me that she had already asked all the girls and no one wanted to go in and they wouldn’t allow her in unless another girl went in with her.
It all happened so fast and before I knew it, as quickly as I had nodded “Okay” in a very non-convincing manner, I was pushed into a line with the two guys in our team, Ryan and Daniel, and Julia. Later I found out that before we had been shoved inside the cell, a man that went in with us whispered to Julia, right before they locked the cell door behind us, that “If this goes bad, I’m pushing you and Rachel out first.”
Only one other time had they allowed women into the cells with the men and it had been quite a long time ago.
The only thing that I could hear above the roar of the prisoners in the small room as we entered, was the loud clang of the iron door closing as the guard locked us in. All I could think was that I was 100% in God’s hands at this point. We were helpless.
I had to wait a few seconds to allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once I could see clearly, I looked around the cell. “Cell” is putting it nicely. It matched the description of a dungeon rather than a jail cell.
It was small. Maybe 30 ft by 15 ft. I had seen master bedrooms bigger than this “cell”. And what was more, there were easily at least 40 grown men in here. There were no windows. No sunlight. There was one very dim lightbulb hanging from the bars on the top of the cage/cell. This was the only source of light. No windows also meant no fresh air or ventilation of any kind. “Musty” doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of describing the smell in that dark place. Urine, sweat, body odor, mold, and just straight foul smells were trapped in this tiny box. This was only intensified more by the extreme temperature inside. Outside it was in the high 80s maybe low 90s. This put the temperature inside that box easily over 100 with no air flow.
The borders of the floor where it met the walls, were lined with cardboard. One of the prisoners frantically brushed off a piece and flattened it out and pointed at it, ushering me to sit. As I sat down and was able to look around more, I realized that the small piece of cardboard I was sitting on was his bed.
One of the men who brought us in, whispered to me, “These men are in here for different reasons, but the justice system here is extremely corrupt. All are in here for a minimum of 3 months. Many stay here and are lost in the system. There are several that are actually innocent as well. These prisoners are actually in this bigger cell for fairly good behavior from the inner cells. The inner cells are much smaller, meant to house 4 prisoners with 8 living in each, and reserved for the worst criminals. These are just as dark. The rations are very small, one serving of rice and beans each day- only one time a day- one meal. Family members are allowed to come bring them food but it is a very rare occasion that this actually happens.”
The same prisoner who offered me his bed, tapped me on the shoulder and offered me his hand-made cardboard fan. I politely declined. He then proceeded to fan me the entire time. I wish I knew how to thank him for it in Spanish, because it was such an incredible act of servitude that I appreciated beyond what words could describe.
As I sat and tried to imagine the horror of being trapped in here for a MINIMUM of 3 months, realizing the amount of anxiety and claustrophobia I had within just 3 minutes of entering, I heard the most powerful thing I have EVER heard in my entire life.
The prisoners began to sing.
“And at midnight Paul and Silas prayed, and sang praises unto God: and the prisoners heard them. And suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken: and immediately all the doors were opened, and everyone’s bands were loosed.”
Acts 16:25-26
It’s hard to explain in words the atmosphere in that cell when the prisoners began to sing praises to God, but I will try. Every man was on his feet, standing. Many were crammed together with no shred of personal space, but several of those didn’t seem to mind as they stretched their arms high towards heaven. They sang with the most intense unity I have ever heard. There was no music, no instruments, no microphones, no sound system, no powerpoint, no stage lighting, no fog, no flashing lights, not even a song book, yet they knew every single word as if it were etched on their heart.
“Thy Word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against Thee.”
Psalm 119:11
As they sang in unity, there was such a ferocity in their voices, one that I knew could never be taken from them. It literally began to shake the ground. I half expected to see the prison door spring open.
This was the sound of hope.
“Happy is he that has the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his God: Who made heaven and earth, the sea and all that therein is: who keeps truth forever: Who executes judgment for the oppressed: who gives food to the hungry. The Lord looseth the prisoners.”
Psalm 146: 5-7
“… Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast…”
Hebrews 6:19
My mind tried to find a similar scenario to compare this too for a frame of reference. But none came to mind. I have never witnessed a more passionate worship service in my 25 years in any American church than I had here in a Nicaraguan prison cell. God’s presence invaded every inch of that cell, the cell was so small that I felt like His presence was too much to even be contained in such a small space, but I think that just made His presence that much more tangible.
“O Lord, Thou hast searched me, and known me… Where shall I go from Thy spirit? Or where shall I flee from Thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, Thou art there. If I make my bed in hell, behold, Thou art there.”
Psalm 139:1,7-8
Tears welled up in my eyes. What faith. What fervor. How much God must love these men.
We were here to minister to these men, but they had ministered to me without even knowing.
As the singing came to an end and we sat down to share the Word, anxiety began to stir inside me again. Quickly, God put to remembrance a sermon that He had given me to share to a youth group at a church in El Salvador. I remember I had struggled to share it because it seemed too dark to share with youth. I know that God gave me that Word for those kids in El Salvador, but I also now know that it’s greater purpose was for this time, three months later in Nicaragua. The Word that God had given me, was all about… a prison cell.
“I want you to close your eyes.” I shakily began.
“Imagine that you are here in your prison cell. It is just a regular day. It’s hot. You’re hungry. You see a guard at the door. He calls your name. As you walk towards him you see on his face a look that you know does not bode well for you. He tells you that you have been found guilty and you are to live out the rest of your days here in this prison cell and then you will be put to death. Your legs feel like rubber as you walk back to your cardboard bed. As you sit down, an overpowering feeling of hopelessness floods in.
The next day you hear the keys on the guard’s belt as he starts walking towards the door. Your mind is racing. You finally conquer that the sentence has changed and that your execution has been moved to today. You’re guilty. And you know it. You know you deserve this punishment.
As the guard unlocks the door, you close your eyes and wait for his hands to grab you. Instead, you hear him say,
‘You’re free to go.’
You stare at him in disbelief, thinking you must be hearing things.
‘An innocent man stepped up and took your place for you’, he continued.
‘He died in your place. Go! You’re free!‘ He shouts.
… That man was Jesus.”
At the mere mention of His name all the prisoners began to shout.
This startled and filled me with indescribable hope all in the same moment.
God gave me words of encouragement for them to step out of the prison cell that was opened for them through Jesus’ sacrifice. I also encouraged the men who had accepted Christ’s free gift to take heart! That they were in good company!
Some of the Bible’s greatest heroes were imprisoned. And in fact, when they were in prison, was when God spoke most intimately with them. God has a special place in His heart for prisoners.
It’s the entire reason He sent His Son in the first place.
To set the prisoner free and to take captivity captive.
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, because He has anointed me to preach the Gospel to the poor; He has sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and to set free those who are in prison.”
-Jesus
“If therefore the Son shall make you free, you shall be free indeed.”
John 8:36
