Saturday, February 2, 2013
My Prayer Today
I came home around lunchtime. I drove myself home, opened the fridge and wondered what I would gather for a meal. I sat down and turned on my computer, put some music on, and looked out the window at the crisp, dreary January day.
I don't normally take such time to reflect on how simple yet meaningful it is to make the decision about what to eat. I don't normally look outside and give thanks for being able to breathe fresh air and see glimpses of sunlight. I don't normally reflect on how many choices I get to make in a given day.
But today is different.
For today, for just a moment, I received a glimpse into a world where choices aren't taken for granted. A world where sunlight doesn't reach your face. A world where doors shut behind you. A world where you are known not by the content of your heart but by offenses and actions.
In a word - jail.
This morning, the church I serve and a few Methodist churches partnered to provide a hot meal for the inmates at the Pettis County Jail. Because of budget cuts, hot meals are few and far between in any given week. Super Bowl weekend seemed as good a time as any to cook chili and pimento cheese sandwiches. We collected from various churches the ingredients for chili and sandwiches. Several folks baked cakes and provided fresh fruit.
Trying to be mindful of the task at hand, I prayed:
I prayed for those who are prisoners to not only the justice system but to cycles of violence and drugs.
I prayed for those who are separated from loved ones.
I prayed for those who work extra shifts to pay for court fees.
I prayed for those who don't get to see their children grow up.
I prayed for those who never knew the love of family.
I prayed to God for compassion.
I prayed to God for understanding.
I prayed to God for mercy.
And after all this prayer, I needed to get moving. After all, we had a meal to deliver.
We could only drop off the food in the back by the kitchen. The meal will be served on Super Bowl Sunday - a hot meal cooked and prayed over, a meal of love. A meal for God's children.
A tour of the jail was the final part of our day. I've never been to a jail and didn't know what to expect.
Once inside we were surrounded by darkness, dreariness, and the lack of light and hope. And then there are the sounds that you can't ignore as each door shuts behind you. Every move is watched. Every corner covered. Every window only provides one way of viewing. It was stifling.
Perhaps what was most distressing from the tour was my total inability to do anything. At all. I just watched. Observed. Asked a few questions. We couldn't interact with anyone other than our group and the guard. We were mere spectators.
Then I came home. I sat. I wondered.
I know some folks who have a loved one in jail or who served in the recent past. I ask them questions. I listen. I pray for them and their loved one. I wonder what more I can do.
The question still remains about how to connect and follow the gospel mandate to proclaim release to the captives. To visit the prisoner in jail and to know that when we do so, we do it to Christ.
I have no answers; yet, I hope to have further conversation with those in my community about seeing the prisoner as brothers and sisters in Christ. I pray that they will know and see themselves as children of God.
Perhaps in my questions I will ponder truthfully the reality about who is really trapped? I wonder if we have a connection in our society to prisoners because our lives are behind not physical bars but bars of fear, ignorance, racism and addiction? Are we prisoners to following the status quo? Are we prisoners to self-doubt and insecurity? Are we prisoners to a theology of glory rather than a theology of the cross?
Join me in the questions and join me in praying with Jesus:
"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."