Angola State Penitentiary

From October 10^th – 13^th, I had the opportunity to visit Angola State Penitentiary, in Baton Rouge, LA. We were a group of 11 students from Calvin Theological Seminary, two professors, and one other guest, and we spent our time at Angola learning its history, sitting in with students (inmates) who are studying at the seminary program within the prison, learning about the life and ministry within the prison, and worshiping with the men there at their nightly chapel services. Angola used to be the bloodiest maximum security prison in the states, but has undergone miraculous transformation—only explainable as the work of God. Violence dropped drastically, and many of the men (the majority of whom are serving a life sentence) have become Christians. We had the privilege of getting to know some of these men, attending their chapel services and learning alongside them in their seminary classroom (an extension program of New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary). God has paradoxically given great freedom to these men even within the confines of prison, and though they are surely experiencing the very real pain of separation from families and their freedom, it was amazing to see the powerful effects of the gospel permeating the prison and transforming these men’s lives. Our experience in Angola was one of many tensions, and it is a taste of this experience that I seek to share here...

A classroom, students finding their seats, hellos exchanged, handshakes, hugs, introductions. Lecturer adjusts his mic and talking subsides as he greets the class. Good morning! Today we will be focusing on theories of change—how does God use us as ministers to help others change? Attentive alertness—some more, some less—and questions for clarification and insight. “What about this passage, and how that affects our understanding?” “Isn’t all true change in a person miraculous?” Small groups for five to ten minutes. We gather in our corner—five together here. Back and forth on how change comes about. Some are more quiet, listening, attentive. Thinkers? A few laughs and a broadening perspective as we converse. Bring it back to the whole class—more insights. Professor clarifies and guides a continuing discussion, give-and-take. Some listening to every word, leaning back, pencil thoughtfully perched between fingertips. Some intently leaning forward, taking in every word of the lecture. Others work on assignments, half-listening as they write for another class...

Through the hall we hear “Count!” and the lecture stops. “We’ll pick up after.” Inmates, hearing their groups called, leave the class and line up for their count. All here. Perhaps a re-count if the number is off. We stay seated; Angola seminary students stand and line up to be confirmed present. All accounted for. Students, inmates return a few at a time, tattoos on arms and neck, white T-shirts and blue jeans with some variety, memories of convictions. Conversation resumes. The lecture picks up again. Preaching on dying and rising with Christ...

Worshiping alongside a hundred men, amidst the pain in their own lives, the remembrance of life sentences. But they have a greater hope and a new life. But we have new life. Worshiping alongside these hundred men, brothers, the victims of crimes seem a world away—but are there. Bodies in the ground, tears still shed, lives still fragmented. These bars seem out of place around the church, but stand to remind of pain that cuts deep. Forgiven. What does this mean? Transformed. New life. Blood was spilled, that brought these men here. Blood also spilled—one man’s blood—to bring them to life even within these bars (to bring us to life—each one who recognizes that we are not so different from any other after all). Tears were shed by the Lord of all. Sweat like drops of blood by the Son of God. Jesus Barabbas for Jesus the Christ. Justice served on our behalf—by the One against Whom we rebelled. Not a passing over, but a taking upon Himself of all the wrath for this violence. And so He purchases men for God. A scandal. But this is where justice and love and mercy meet.

And so in Angola, we saw the gospel. We saw men purchased for God. We saw our brothers, scandalously forgiven just as we have been. Justice was served, the Christ crucified. And here within these bars we saw evidence of the empty tomb. Christ is risen.

²¹ “You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.’ ²² But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment. (Matthew 5:21–22, NIV)

¹⁷ So when the crowd had gathered, Pilate asked them, “Which one do you want me to release to you: Jesus Barabbas, or Jesus who is called the Messiah?”... ²⁶ Then he released Barabbas to them. But he had Jesus flogged, and handed him over to be crucified. (Matthew 27:17, 26, NIV)

²³ But with loud shouts they insistently demanded that he be crucified, and their shouts prevailed. ²⁴ So Pilate decided to grant their demand. ²⁵ He released the man who had been thrown into prison for insurrection and murder, the one they asked for, and surrendered Jesus to their will. (Luke 23:23-25, NIV)

⁹ To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: ¹⁰ “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. ¹¹ The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. ¹² I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’ ¹³ “But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’ ¹⁴ “I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." (Luke 18:9-14, NIV)

Isn’t this the story of each and every person who claims Christ as Lord and Savior? Are we so different from our brothers in Angola? And it is the same gospel of grace—God’s forgiveness and bringing us to life in Christ, despite our unworthiness—that is our hope as well.

Coming Home

^{Today, let's look at the parable of the prodigal son - or rather, Jesus' story of a father and his two sons.}

¹¹ Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. ¹² The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them...

...

²¹ “...The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

²² “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. ²³ Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate...

...

²⁸ “...The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. ²⁹ But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. ³⁰ But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’

³¹ “ ‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. ³² But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ ” [The Holy Bible: New International Version, electronic ed., Lk 15: 11–12, 21-23, 28-32 (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1996).]

(I have only included selections from the parable of the prodigal son here; the entire story is found in Luke 15:11-32, with all of Luke 15 as relevant context too.)

In this parable, the older son may seem at first like the responsible one, the good son. And he surely sees himself this way in latter part of the story. But there are at least two red flags that tell us otherwise. At the time of the younger brother demanding his inheritance and leaving their father, the older brother should be stepping forward, seeking to reconcile younger son to the father. (see Kenneth Bailey, Poet & Peasant and Through Peasant Eyes, 168). However, we read no word of the older brother, no interposed words of attempted reconciliation. This silence seems to be significant, seems to speak loudly of something wrong in the relationship of the older son to his own brother and father. Also, later on we read the older son’s complaint to his father: “All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders...” (v. 29) Instead of being grateful for the relationship he can have with his father, he views his father (who, we see from verses 28 and 31, desires to be with his son) as a taskmaster.

The younger son wanted out, wanted to be gone and do his own thing; the older son thought of father as a taskmaster. So we see that neither had a good relationship with his father. In this way, both sons were far away from home—whether in that distant country in direct rebellion, or out in the field, “slaving” for the father and never disobeying his orders. They both needed to come home to their Father.

C.S. Lewis has a novel called The Great Divorce. In it, he writes about a bus which brings people from hell to visit heaven, and it is the story of why the people in hell have rejected heaven and ultimately God Himself. In one particular conversation, a man on the bus from hell (referred to as the “Big Ghost”) sees a past acquaintance who is in heaven. At this point in the conversation, we have found out that the acquaintance who is now in heaven had apparently committed a murder at one time. The “Big Ghost” from hell is surprised to see this man who had committed a murder, in heaven—while he has found himself in hell:

'Personally,' said the Big Ghost ... ‘I'd have thought you and I ought to be the other way round. That's my personal opinion.'
'Very likely we soon shall be,' said the other. 'If you'll stop thinking about it.'
'Look at me, now,' said the Ghost, slapping its chest...'I gone straight all my life. I don't say I was a religious man and I don't say I had no faults, far from it. But I done my best all my life, see? I done my best by everyone, that's the sort of chap I was. I never asked for anything that wasn't mine by rights... That's the sort I was and I don't care who knows it.'
'It would be much better not to go on about that now.' [said the other]
'Who's going on? I'm not arguing. I'm just telling you the sort of chap I was, see? I'm asking for nothing but my rights. You may think that you can put me down because you're dressed up like that...and I'm only a poor man. But I got to have my rights same as you, see?'
'Oh no. It's not so bad as that. I haven't got my rights, or I should not be here. You will not get yours either. You'll get something far better. Never fear.'
'That's just what I say. I haven't got my rights. I always done my best and I never done anything wrong. And what I don't see is why I should be put below a ... murderer like you.'
'Who knows whether you will be? Only be happy and come with me.'
'What do you keep on arguing for? I'm only telling you the sort of chap I am. I only want my rights. I'm not asking for anybody's bleeding charity.'
'Then do. At once. Ask for the Bleeding Charity. Everything is here for the asking and nothing can be bought.' [Selections from C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce, 28, quoted here. Emphasis added]

In the parable of the prodigal son, the older brother doesn’t seem to want charity, doesn’t look for grace for himself or his brother, and doesn’t appear to value the father’s love. The younger receives it undeservedly—as the older brother is also called to do. And C.S. Lewis above speaks of Christ and the charity—the grace—that can be had only freely (never bought or earned or toiled for) through His death.

The invitation to come home, to be a child of God, is open to all—to those who are actively rebelling, to those at the end of their resources, to those who recognize an emptiness in their lives like the younger brothers’ hunger early in the parable, to those beginning to come back to God but not sure of how He will receive them, to those like the older brother, working for God but still not having a relationship with Him (or others) defined by His grace and love. The invitation is open to all to trust in Jesus and come home, and be received with God’s love because of Jesus.

We read in Galatians of the futility of our own works to make us acceptable to God. Only faith, confidence, trust in Jesus allowed us to be accepted back when we come home to our Father. Here we read Galatians 3:10-11, and then verses 26-28:

¹⁰ All who rely on observing the law are under a curse, for it is written: “Cursed is everyone who does not continue to do everything written in the Book of the Law.” ¹¹ Clearly no one is justified before God by the law, because, “The righteous will live by faith.” ... ²⁶ You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus, ²⁷ for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. ²⁸ There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. [The Holy Bible: New International Version, electronic ed., Ga 3:10-11, 26–28 (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1996).]

Finally, we can also remember that this way home, this path along which we can return to God, is only through Jesus.

My dear children, I write this to you so that you will not sin. But if anybody does sin, we have one who speaks to the Father in our defense—Jesus Christ, the Righteous One. ² He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world. [The Holy Bible: New International Version, electronic ed., 1 Jn 2:1–2 (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1996).]

The way back home, back to our Father—when we or others wander far from home—has been paved by Jesus Christ. It is only because He bore all the guilt and blame for our rebellion, and allowed for us to be forgiven—this is how we can be welcomed home.

More coming soon...

This summer has been a wonderful time, and I look forward to reflecting on the experiences further. However, it has not given me much opportunity to continue writing here, but I plan to pick it up again soon!

Neglected Vows

"When you make a vow to God, do not delay in fulfilling it." (Ecclesiastes 5:4a; read the surrounding verses too)

The topic of this passage in Ecclesiastes has struck me recently. In the Psalms we also see language of praying for God’s rescue, and then the author responding with praise. In Psalm 51 David writes of his intention to teach others (sinners) of God—with the result that they will return to God—once God has mercy on David for his own sin. Throughout the Psalms, we see a rhythm of prayer for rescue, and praising God for His acts of salvation and His faithfulness. Prayer and praise, prayer and praise.

And yet we so easily neglect the praise, neglect our intention to thank God and tell others of His work in our lives. I am good at the asking, but don’t do so well at fulfilling my promises to God. Perhaps the first step in this is simply taking time to reflect back, to praise God for His faithfulness, and then to unashamedly begin to share with others the ways God has been active and gracious in our lives and our communities. And when we begin to dwell more on praising and thanking God, perhaps our eyes will begin to see more clearly the many ways He is present in our lives. Let’s not cut that cycle short by discarding praise.

The Truth that Takes a Lifetime

Today, when talking with a friend, I was reminded by him of the simple truth that God is greater than I am.

What a straightforward truth - one that we (of course) learn in Sunday School, and then can move beyond...right?

Maybe not. This is one of those truths that is so simple, and yet which seems to take a lifetime to learn and live. We probably each have those moments when we catch a glimpse of both God's greatness and our relative smallness (seeing the night sky, and having a small sense of the relative sizes and distances does it for me), and perhaps also those moments of conviction and guilt when we see how we have ordered our life around the illusory belief that we - not God - are the ones of ultimate importance. My comfort, my success, my fulfillment are the things I chase after and concern myself with. All my experiences must be bent towards these end goals.

But what a prison we create for ourselves when we are the only ones we pursue! We were intended to be in relationship with the only One of ultimate worth - God - and yet we would turn from His beauty to frantically try to magnify ourselves? We all do it, we all have done it, but by the grace of God in Christ, we have been raised with Christ in order to live a new life. May God in His grace put to death our sin and suffocating self-idolization, and move our hearts to value and praise and glorify the One who is worthy! And what freedom then, as we trust Him to provide for us by His perfect and never-ending grace, in ways we can never provide for ourselves.

LORD, be glorified. (and we can be confident of the fulfillment of this prayer!)

We Belong To...

Whose are we?

We often live and operate with the implicit assumption that we belong to ourselves. Our time, our emotions, our entitlement to feeling fulfilled or pursuing our passions...we cling to these rights. We may acknowledge that God wants all of us, but we want to keep something back.

Why?

Is this hesitancy to surrender to God perhaps due to our desire to cling to autonomy, security, and safety? In surrender, we give up the right to choose based solely on our own desires, and this can be a terrifying thought.

But let’s reflect on this...

If we claim to believe in the God who formed, who created both the world we live in, as well as our very being and identity, and if we profess that He is good, are we not contradicting our very reasons for autonomy?

We were created to be in a life-giving relationship with God. But when we try to separate ourselves, and to protect some of what we see as “ourselves”—that portion of ourselves we don’t want God to mess with—aren’t we also claiming that God is either not fully good or not fully knowledgeable and powerful? We are claiming that we (part of his own creation, who have been given our faculties by Him) can ultimately care for ourselves better than the One who knit us together, and knows every thought of ours. This makes no sense, and though we are called to use those faculties and abilities to work, we ultimately look to Him for care.

And to expand on this: Is, perhaps, this autonomy we hold to so tightly perhaps ultimately a grand illusion? Like God’s Lordship (He is Lord whether or not we acknowledge Him as such!), isn’t our dependence on God the truth whether or not we acknowledge it as true? If so (and it surely seems to be the case when we follow our professed beliefs to their reasonable conclusions), then we must admit that we are dependent on God for all things whether or not we want to admit it. And it is a hard reality to accept, because it is sometimes hard to trust God even when we give mental assent to these truths.

Trust in God’s goodness—it seems so simple and elemental, but it can be so difficult. But remember that God has already provided us with profound evidence of His trustworthiness, among which are such convictions as His creation of all, and Jesus’ death on the cross and resurrection. He is good (for why else would Jesus die for love of the world?) and He is able (for how else could Jesus have risen?).

Let us acknowledge that we are His, and lean on this good and able God!

Treasures - Evanescent and Permanent

This afternoon, I went to a memorial service for a wonderful, 102-year-old Christian woman. I had come to know her at the assisted living center at which I worked some time ago, and she was an encouragement to many of the staff there.

The memorial service was good. It was truly a time of celebration even amidst the loss, and her faith and love for Jesus was undoubtedly something to celebrate - both of which were deeply evident in her life.

It is said that, when you die, you can't take anything with you: treasures, possessions, knowledge, even talents ultimately seem evanescent when death comes. But she did retain the central treasure in her life - Jesus. Her life was especially full because of all the trust and time and love she had directed towards the one treasure she could keep (or rather, Who could keep her).

I want this too. I want my treasure in life to not be myself, or my possessions, or my abilities and resume, but to be Jesus Christ. May God help us treasure Him.