Over time, when entering a prison on a regular basis, one can become reasonably well acquainted with staff members. You sign the logbook, they take your driver’s license, they examine your bible, they do a clothed body search on you and so on. You have time to chat with them while you’re waiting to enter/exit or while you’re walking across the prison yard to your destination.
When one does this on a weekly/bi-weekly basis for years, even though the encounters tend to be brief – 30 seconds to 2 or 3 minutes, some good relationships are built. If we as volunteers obey the rules and “do the right thing” in cooperating with staff, that helps build the relationships.
Through 11 years of somewhat regular monthly visits to that prison and during that time, seven years of weekly bible studies, one becomes somewhat familiar with staff and vice versa. Staff, which in some cases, looks very favorably upon what we do in offering religious assistance and which in some cases just wishes we would go away. When first commenced the monthly visits in 1998, we typically saw one officer who was no big fan of our services. The prisoners did not like him because he upheld the law, but he was doing nothing more than the job he was hired to do. A year or two after we started, one encounter stands out.
My helpmate and I entered for the monthly gathering and about 8-10 prisoners showed up. The prisoner who used to play a guitar for our singing had been transferred out so the prisoners asked me to lead the singing. I said, “You don’t want that.” They insisted, because I knew the songs. So I did. Please allow me to say my leading of the singing was such that my wife stepped away from my side moved around to the other side of the table we had gathered around.(!) Singing is not my strong suit. The men did not sing particularly loud, so we were very surprised when the officer mentioned above stormed through the door to the classroom where we were and yelled, “THAT’S TOO LOUD. STOP IT! NO MORE SINGING!” That’s one of the consequences of worship in a police state, so we stopped singing.
Over time, though, our relationship with this officer improved, as he saw that we could offer our services and comply with prison rules and regulations. They improved to the point where, in about 2001, as another volunteer and I were getting ready to exit, this officer was escorting us to the door of the building and he mentioned he was considering retirement. I said, “Really? That’s great! Then you can sign up and volunteer with us!” He said, “No, no, no..I’m not doing THAT,” as he laughed.
Which leads me to last weekend’s encounter. Another officer with whom we had much contact over the years was the officer assigned to monitor the Keryx weekend in the Pavilion (gymnasium). From 2:00pm until we left at 8:30pm, he had to listen to all our services and talks, which is a good thing. During a break, I was walking by his desk, where he and the chaplain were conversing. The chaplain was sitting in a chair next to the desk. This officer (who had no interest in Christianity, just like the officer mentioned above) had hinted at his possible retirement in a conversation earlier this fall, so I brought that up.
Me: “So, how’s this retirement thing coming?”
Officer: “Well, it looks like it’s going to happen pretty shortly.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ve about had it. It’s time.”
(Referring back to my question to the other officer several years before, who had just retired last month), “That’s great! Since you and Officer ________________ would both be retired, you could both sign up and volunteer with us and come in here and do this!” (The chaplain is cracking up as I say this)
“No, no, no. I’m not coming back in here once I leave. Besides, I’m not going to the same place you and he (pointing to the chaplain) are going. I’m going where my dad and brother are.”
“You don’t have to go there, you know.”
“Yeah, but I want to be with my dad and brother. I’m not like you and him (pointing again to the chaplain).”
“Are you sure? Hell’s not all it’s cracked up to be. All that tearing of clothes and gnashing of teeth and eternal punishment.”
“Well, you two are going somewhere else. I just want to be with my family.”
“Just because you’re in the same place with your family doesn’t mean you’ll be with your family. Maybe what makes it Hell is that besides all the punishment, you won’t be able to see your family. Besides (knowing the contempt some officers have for administration) there’ll probably be some Wardens in Hell.”
He laughed loudly. “Well, I’m sure there will be, but there’ll also probably be some chaplains there, too (pointing toward the chaplain).”
The chaplain chimed in, “I’m sure you’re right, but this chaplain won’t be one of them.”
I resumed our chat. “You know, it’s not that hard. All you have to do is repent and believe in Jesus and you can go with us.”
“Nah. I’ll take my chances.”
Scary. Absolutely scary. They called an end to the break so we had to cease our discussion. The next day, Sunday, as we were leaving the prison for the weekend, I was at the back of the group leaving and this same officer was our escort, so I resumed our discourse and he said he only had six more days or work before retiring.
Me: “Really?”
Officer: “Yeah. Then I’m out of here.”
“You know, you really ought to reconsider your thoughts on Hell. You don’t want to go there.”
“Well, it’s not that bad, plus my family will be there.”
He then deflected the conversation to a discussion he had with a prisoner about evolution and the Big Bang and then we entered the administration building and they started opening and closing doors to separate us as we departed. As they were hurrying us through the last door I turned and said, “It’s been a pleasure all these years.”
He said, “Thanks. Me, too.”
It would be my prayer that this man encounters someone whom he will listen to concerning a matter of such great import. One’s eternal destiny in relationship to the living God is not trivial. Pray someone crosses his path who brings Truth.
