February 2008

I am grateful for the opportunity to have this journal. Through my online writings I am able to at least give the general public some small glimpses of prison life, along with information about my own life.

I know that many people are curious as to what has become of me. While others are interested in what it's really like for someone to live out his days inside of a maximum security correctional facility. In addition, since this is more of a spiritual journal than anything, many Christians have found my journal to be both encouraging and enlightening. By it they're able to better understand how their incarcerated brethren live out our faith, and how men like me can serve the Lord in circumstances that are less than ideal.

D.B.

I have continued to empty my prison cell of unwanted papers and old letters plus anything else that's no longer needed or can no longer be stored because of limited space. And today I managed to once again fill up another large plastic trash bag with hundreds of pages of outdated study notes. I also tore up and tossed out many pages of unfinished journal entries and jottings, along with lots of sermon messages which I never completed or never used.

In early January I began to go through my wall locker and storage bins in order to limit what's known in prison parlance as "personal" property. I always keep my belongings neat and orderly. But some of it was unnecessary. And now it's gone. The other bags that I filled up awhile back have long since made their way to the town's dump. By Monday this last bag will be laid to rest in the same place.

D.B.

Jeremiah has been referred to as the prophet of the "midnight hour" because He heard the words of the Lord and tried his best to warn the people that catastrophe was ahead. No one but a small remnant heeded his warnings, however.

And I am no Jeremiah, nor am I a prophet. But I do see a boiling pot moving across the land. There's a seething cauldron of hate, anger and frustration brewing deep within the hearts of men. And this means that all is not well for the United States of America. We are at the cusp of something evil and frightening because the hearts of many have grown cold. Hearts have become calloused.

Yet this is not a message of "doom and gloom." Rather it is a message of hope because I believe it is not too late to turn back the coming destruction and to call upon the Lord Himself, the King of the Nations, and to ask for His help to run this nation.

Too many of us are self-deceived. We're too proud. We think things will get better for America. But deep within our hearts we know something isn't right. Calamity is ahead. The foundations of our nation, everything from finance to government, is eroding. And one day, I can see this coming, not even our silver or gold, nor the institutions we have put our trust in, shall be able to save us. As these will prove to be nothing but dead idols, false gods. Even now they are nothing but teetering walls destined to topple. They will crash with an enormous fall.

I'm afraid that we have placed our hope and trust in the wrong gods. In the end these will show themselves to be worthless. Even the freedoms we now enjoy will be gone. They will be lost by default. It will be the foreclosure of the United States, a weakened Republic destroyed by sin, greed and selfishness.

May God have mercy. None of this has to happen. But it will. Few listened to Israel's Jeremiah; no one will listen to me.

D.B.

I am most thankful that God did not reject me when I first cried out to Him. And He has not rejected me now. The Lord is forever merciful and He has never forsaken me, even when I sin.

I can call upon the Lord, even from within my prison cell, and He hears me. He answers my cries. As a mother runs to her wailing child, and as a father runs to the desperate cries of a son or daughter, so, too, the Creator runs to me.

As it says in Psalm 77:1 the Lord gives "ear unto me." In other words, God pays attention to my pleas and requests for help because He loves me. I am his son through faith in Jesus Christ. God hears, and He cares. Amen!

D.B.

Today my congregation was visited by twenty-five members of the Manhattan Grace Tabernacle Church from New York City. This group primarily consisted of the church's choir and sound crew. But also present was their pastor, Luis Rivera. And along with him was Pastor Victor Olmo of the Brooklyn Tabernacle Church.

There was a total of sixty-six inmates in attendance along with a handful of the prison's security staff. So, all totaled, about 90 people were inside the chapel.

I, however, sat in the last row at the back of the room where my chaplain and several of the congregation's elders were. We placed ourselves in the rear to keep an eye on things, but all went well. Pastor Rivera gave a solid "salvation" message during the latter portion of the service. But before he spoke Pastor Olmo gave us some much needed words of encouragement based upon Psalm 50:15.

I didn't want the service to end. The music sounded like it was being sung by angels. There was an atmosphere of peace throughout the chapel as well as the presence of the Lord. I could also see the softening of hearts as the Holy Spirit did His work from behind the scenes. All told, it was a beautiful afternoon and I left the chapel feeling renewed.

D.B.

A short while ago I returned to my prison cell after attending this evening's Bible study class. It's a class that's held every Tuesday, and it is given by one of the inmates in my fellowship. As far as I'm concerned, he's a very competent and fully qualified teacher.

And as about twenty of us sat in a circle in the chapel, and as I scanned the faces of these men and observed the different races and nationalities that were present, I found my heart bursting with love and hope.

It may sound foolish to some, but as I looked at this collection of convicted felons, I saw the reality of God's grace to mankind. For in spite of each man's misfortune at being incarcerated, I saw men who've been rescued from the road to destruction, redeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ, and saved from the fires of an eternal hell.

So as I gazed upon our circle of men, young and old, black, white, and red, I saw the love and compassion of the Savior resting upon each precious soul.

Society, of course, may only observe a group of criminals who have become "religious." The Almighty God, however, sees them as His children. And even now, by the Lord's grace, these men are some of the future citizens of heaven.

D.B.

Today I got hit by two different storms. The first was all the snow which began to come down yesterday. Now the ground is covered with ice and snow as a freezing rain continues to fall from the sky. This will keep me indoors for awhile, and I'm going to miss my evening walks.

But the second storm came this morning when three new trainee correction officers suddenly appeared in front of my cell. They came to do a search for contraband. As soon as I saw them I thought to myself, "Uh oh!"

So when the steel door at the front of the cell slid open, I stepped out onto the gallery while the officers went inside my cell to conduct their search. As is the procedure they systematically examined almost every piece of property I had. All my books, bibles, letters, clothing, storage containers and everything else was checked for anything that seemed to be amiss. The search, which officially began at 9:40 a.m., lasted approximately forty minutes. And by the time they were done I had a mess on my hands. It looked as if a hurricane went through my room.

They were polite, however. They pawed through my belongings with smiles on their faces. At least they didn't tear my property apart. But because they're trainees fresh out of the academy they spent more time with their search than more experienced officers would do. No doubt they wanted to make a good impression for the supervising sergeant. It was a relief when they were done. I had to spend most of the remainder of the day reorganizing and trying to return everything back to its place.

D.B.

The problems and concerns that a man in prison faces are oftentimes the same as those in society. The big difference, however, is that in this environment the situation is made worse because the inmate feels helpless. He cannot reach beyond these walls to do something. And this is why prayer is important. I know that God welcomes prayer. He answers the petitions of His children.

Today, for example, while I was in the chapel this evening waiting for the Bible class to begin, my friend Ramon told me that his wife has a large cancerous growth in her neck which requires immediate surgery. He asked me to pray for her. So right then and there, we did.

Next, my friend Jimmy* walked up to me and said he needed to tell me something in private. I could see he was distressed about something. So he and I walked over to a far corner of the room. Jimmy then told me that his fifteen year old daughter had been raped on her way to school. She's been living out of state with her mother while her dad serves out his sentence. He and I grasped each other's hands, and we prayed. We also prayed for the perpetrator, which was very hard for Jimmy to do. But I told him that this was necessary.

I know Jimmy wants to be at his daughter's side. As a father he wants to help his child. He is, however, going to write her. I added, "Jimmy, this is a situation in which you will need the wisdom and strength that only the Lord could give." He understood.

D.B.

*Jimmy is not his real name

I have been watching the snow as it falls from the sky. The weather reports say that approximately ten to twelve inches will be on the ground before the storm is over. Outside my window, however, it looks like a scene from a Thomas Kincaid painting. But this time the artist is God.

Meanwhile, earlier today I had a talk with Jessup.* He's a man in his 50s. Jessup has four sons and a daughter, all grown. One of his sons, he lamented, is in prison doing a sentence of 25-years to life. He was involved in an armed robbery in which the victim was killed. Jessup said his incarcerated son is twenty-five years old. Yet his only daughter has a successful career in law enforcement. This kind of thing happens a lot, I believe. One child from a household makes good in life, while another, raised in the same home, succumbs to wrongdoing. One makes good choices, while the other, terrible ones. It's a paradox.

Moreover, Jessup's main concern was for his spouse. He told me she's a 47 year old diabetic whom, earlier this week, had a heart attack. He said her condition has stabilized. The doctors told the family that she will survive. But it's been an ordeal. Furthermore, Jessup is not a Christian. Other than his mother taking him to church when he was a kid, Jessup lacks faith in Christ.

Yet he did ask me to pray for his wife. I assured him that I would. Nevertheless, it's both sad and ironic just how many people will not think about God or eternity until they're in a crisis.

D.B.

*Jessup is not his real name.

This morning I awoke with a strange and unsettled feeling within my soul. I don't know what it was other than some kind of mysterious sense of discomfort and distress. Last night I attended the prayer meeting with a dozen or so of my brothers. Every fourth Monday of each month I am permitted to go to the chapel to gather with fellow Christian inmates. We're allotted 90 minutes of time together before we have to return to our respective cells.

At the start of our gathering, however, we go over each and every prayer request that's been made by the members of our congregation. Many of the requests involve serious issues, even life and death situations. There are prayer requests for the suicidal, drug addicted family members and those who have loved ones who are sick, even dying. There are many men who have at least one family member who is either HIV positive or who has AIDS. In addition there are payer requests that have been made for estranged children as well as for the "unsaved." One man even asked for prayer for his brother who's in the Army and is headed for a tour in Germany. The list is endless, and it goes from the critical to the mundane. We had at least five hundred prayer requests forms in our church's prayer box, too. It was humbling and even vexing to read each request. The needs and concerns of those in this prison church are deep and intense.

Perhaps it was all those urgent and desperate prayer requests that overwhelmed me. They may have stayed on my mind and in my heart when I went to bed. I'm very sensitive to the struggles and needs of others. Nevertheless, as the morning went by I immersed myself in Scripture reading and listening to programs on the local Christian radio station. I have off from work Tuesday mornings so I had the extra time to do this.

Surely the heart of a man has many bitter stories to tell. We carry a lot of pain from things we've experienced in life. Yet not one can fully know its joy when the Lord Jesus Christ enters the heart of a man and makes peace and His presence known.

D.B.

Right now I could find dozens of things to complain about. But I'm learning to give God thanks for every circumstance I find myself in.

Lately there's been an array of new trials in my life, situations which have come upon me suddenly and unexpectedly. They've come to test my faith. Yet each one is a battle that belongs to the Lord. However, I must do my part to stand with full confidence in Christ. And it is through His grace that I am to fight the "good fight of faith (I Timothy 6:12)."

Furthermore, I've been looking at the life of King David. He had to face many trials in his lifetime, including some death-defying situations. Yet in the midst of all the strife and warfare which surrounded him, David always had something to sing about. He knew his God would be his defense as well as a refuge from trouble. The Lord faithfully delivered David and kept him from harm.

So the king would sing his praises of love for the God of Israel while God brought down David's enemies before his face. And I need to do likewise. I'm to sing aloud of the Lord's great mercy, and His power. And I'm to pray for those who seek my hurt.

D.B.

It's the last day of the month and the snow continues to fall. I love it! Last night I went outdoors for about ninety minutes with my friend, Robert. It was 7 degrees below zero! I'd be lying if I said I wasn't cold. The frigid air even penetrated my thermal gloves. Yet it was good to be in the fresh air. With shivering lips Robert and I praised the Lord.

In addition, I now have an intensifying desire to pray more fervently than ever before for Christians who live in nations where there is open persecution that's being directed against them. One day, though, I'm afraid such persecution will be coming to the United States of America. I know the media as well as certain organizations have it in their respective agendas to harass and belittle Christians in various ways. The populace of our nation, I believe, is slowly being conditioned to think that the world would be better off without those who believe in the Bible, and that Jesus Christ is the only way to heaven.

But the future has already been prophesied. What will eventually happen has already been ordained before the world began. Yet because I have placed my faith in Christ, I've nothing to fear. Jesus said that, in the "last days," those who love Him will be hated by many. Nevertheless, God's grace will be sufficient for such a time.

Regrettably, however, many are blind as to what's ahead. As for myself, I must echo what the beloved apostle Paul penned in parchment some two thousand years ago. "And the Lord shall deliver me from every evil work, and will preserve me unto His heavenly kingdom, to whom be the glory forever, and ever. Amen (II Timothy 4:18)."

D.B.