July 2008

This morning I had been reading about "Saul of Tarsus," the fiendish persecutor of the early church. According to the New Testament, he was a vengeful and vindictive religious zealot who was on his way to a city called Damascus to arrest and torture his fellow Jews who'd come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah. But while Saul was on his journey he had a sudden encounter with Jesus himself which left him blinded by the brightness of the Lord. Several days later, however, Saul received his sight back. Yet is was at the moment when he first encountered the Messiah that a cruel Saul became a very humbled apostle, now known as Paul.

What I especially found interesting about this event was when Jesus told this newly "born again" man to "Arise, and go." Then, as the Lord further instructed him, when he got to his destination, Paul would be told what to do next.

Many times we have to step out in faith while not being able to see the whole picture. God won't always map everything out for us. But as we humble ourselves and yield to what He is asking us to do, even when such instructions may not seem to make sense to our finite minds, we can trust the Lord to eventually reveal what to do next. I liken this to walking by faith in a progression of steps. It's only when we take the first step that the Lord will show us where to take the next step, and when to do it.

I've often found this to be the case with my own life. Little by little, the Lord patiently unfolds His plan for me. After all, He knows the end from the beginning, and He has promised to direct my steps, too. So when the Lord says, "David, arise, and go," I'm expected to act upon these words and do them. And this is true, even if, in the back of my mind, I'd find myself saying, "Go where, Lord?"

Of course, the truth is, many times I don't do this. I'll begin to doubt the Lord or question if it is even Him that's speaking, or is it only my flesh. I'll become fearful, and then disobedient. Nevertheless, I see the apostle Paul as a model of how I should be, and how every Christian should be, when it comes to the Lord telling us what to do and where to go.

D.B.

I must confess that the past several weeks have been difficult for me. The noise level in the building I live in (D-North) has been nearly intolerable. This makes activities such as writing and reading very hard to do. The result of all this is that not only is my body left drained of strength and feeling "shell shocked (for want of a better description)," but I've fallen behind with my journal writing, correspondence and Bible studies. Meanwhile, my body is in a state of continual teeth-clenched tension, and this is not good.

Yet through this ordeal I am trying to train myself to speak the praises of the Lord. I don't want my mouth to speak negative things. Nor do I want my mind to see the bad side of the situation. Therefore the Holy Spirit has been reminding me to focus on Christ and the victory He gives to help the Christian be victorious in times of suffering. As the Scripture says in Psalm 145, my mouth shall praise my God and my King. His name is wonderful because He is wonderful.*

D.B.

I received a letter from a friend who asked me if I found it upsetting whenever I would encounter someone who claims that the does not believe in God, or doubts God exists. I replied that, while it is a challenge to share my faith with a person who claims not to believe in the Lord, I am always reminded of the fact that God's word is powerful (Hebrews 4:12). In addition, His word always accomplishes the purpose for which it was sent (Isaiah 55:11). Therefore, I am confident the message of salvation in Christ alone, can be planted in a man's heart even if his initial response is one of disbelief and doubt.

I have known individuals who claimed not to believe in God eventually come to faith in Him. I've seen these same men walk down the aisles of this prison's chapel and receive Jesus as their Savior. And this is because God alone is capable of softening the hardest of hearts. He can reason with the most stubborn of minds. For nothing is too hard for him (Luke 18:27). Even many an avowed atheist has relented of his unbelief at the presence of the Lord. His mercy endures forever!

D.B.

Where would I be without Jesus? I shudder to think what my life would be like now, having already spent thirty-one years in prison, if I didn't have Christ. His forgiveness is priceless. Most of all, I have and intimate relationship with Him, and this relationship helps me through each day. Even the difficult days! Because when someone has to live in a prison, there will be plenty of difficult days. Besides, I'm not a "Super Saint." I have the same temptations and weaknesses as other men.

So if not for the Lord's grace, and the help He gives me through the Scriptures and by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, I'd have given up and fallen away a long time ago. But God is my keeper. When my heart feels overwhelmed, the Lord is my support.

D.B.

The Spirit of the Lord has been touching lives in a unique way, and men are being drawn to Christ. For instance, this past Sunday, even though it was very hot and humid, we had more than the average number of prisoners in attendance. During the summer months many of the guys will opt for the outdoor recreation yard as opposed to attending a ninety minute service in a poorly ventilated chapel.

Furthermore, I was encouraged to see several new faces of men who've been at this facility for awhile, but never expressed an interest in going to church until they showed up this past Sunday. I know that Christ wishes to touch their hearts. He offers His forgiveness to everyone. And this is one of the reasons that I and my fellow Christians continue to seek the Lord and to pray. We want to see as many as possible enter the kingdom of God through repentance and faith in Jesus Christ. And the Lord is good because He allows me to see the answer to these prayers.

D.B.

Last night I experienced a wonderful time of fellowship with four friends who are members of the church that exists behind prison walls. While we all live in different cell blocks, it so happened that we ended up in the outdoor recreation yard.

So as the five of us walked together along the yard's running track, we were able to talk and praise the Lord, and give Him thanks. Then, after we began to tire from walking we gathered as a small group and sat at one of the picnic tables.

After awhile I decided to take my little Gideons bible from my pants pocket and read to my friends a few passages from the book of Proverbs. Afterwards we resumed our walk. And when it was time for the yard to close, we quietly bowed our heads and prayed. We each thanked the Lord for our time together, and we also thanked the Lord for joining us. For as promised, Jesus was among us, too. He was in our midst.

D.B.

It's approximately ten o'clock in the morning on a hot and humid day. The temperature is in the mid-90s, too. With my clothing practically glued to my body, it's way too hot to do much of anything. Besides, I'm in a state of physical and mental weariness.

The noise level in the cell block has become almost intolerable. A number of the men, apparently out of boredom, have been yelling and screaming at one another. They've been doing this since the breakfast meal ended at eight. This kind of craziness has been a regular occurrence as well.

But whenever it gets like this, the first thing I do is turn on my radio and place my Koss headphones over my ears. I'll turn up the volume and listen to praise and worship music on the local Christian channel. Doing this helps to keep me sane. Of course I also quietly ask the Lord for the patience and resolve to deal with my environment. Whoever says that prison is like living in a hotel is talking nonsense. Forget the "country club" image the media often tries to portray. In here pain comes in many forms. Yet, thankfully, the goodness of God always far exceeds the badness of Satan. It's as simple as that.

D.B.

My chaplain is a man of God who shepherds the flock that's behind these walls. He is a law-abiding citizen, a former probation officer, a former pastor and youth pastor, and is presently employed as a full-time minister at a correctional facility. In addition, he and his wife have children who are now adults themselves; he's also a grandfather.

It's ironic, however, that such an honest individual, not to mention being well educated and having a degree, has dedicated his life to helping convicted felons and their families. This is the compassion of Christ. As my chaplain would gladly tell anyone who asks, it was the Lord whom he believes led him to do what he's doing today. He could have been a pastor of a well-heeled congregation in the suburbs. Instead he's chosen to live among the men whom society hates.

Yet I, too, believe the Lord has sent this man to help us become better persons and good Christians. And Jesus does work through benevolent individuals like him so as to demonstrate His tender care to those who have godly sorrow for their sins and want to see their lives be put back together.

In my opinion the Lord places the right people in the right places so that those with broken hearts can be healed and restored.

D.B.

On July 14 I was officially assigned to the prison's kitchen. It's a long story of how this came about after working for many years as a "mobility guide" for the inmates who are legally blind, and especially as an aide to the men who are in a special cell block called the "Intermediate Care Program (E-North)." I love these guys. And for me, a man who lives in the prison's general population, to be permitted to go into this restricted area (E-North) and be trusted to care for such fragile and needy men, is an honor. It's also very gratifying.

Yet things happened very fast and I ended up getting reassigned to the kitchen. I was also given a security clearance to be here. The change was sudden. In addition, I never went to what is known as the "Program Committee." This Committee meets with an inmate to determine where he is going to work, or if he will be assigned to school or placed in a vocational shop to learn a trade. And every man, unless he is medically restricted, or is doing a long term of cell confinement because of disciplinary infraction, is expected to have a program.

In my case having a school program is not an option because I already have a high school diploma. But for now, while I am already assigned to the kitchen, I am still awaiting a medical clearance, which is required. Then, once I am deemed to be in reasonably good health with no communicable diseases, I will be summoned to report for work to begin my new job.

D.B.

Today I was summoned to the nurse's station in the prison's Infirmary. I had to undergo a brief medical exam in order to obtain the necessary clearance to begin working in the kitchen. The exam lasted about five minutes. The nurse asked me if I presently had any kind of skin rash. I didn't. She then looked at my finger nails to make sure they were clean and healthy looking with no traces of fungus. Fortunately I was found to be fungus free.

Next, as is required for the safeguarding of everyone at the facility, the nurse asked me if I knew how to wash my hands. I immediately expressed shock that a woman would even dare to ask such a personal question. With a straight face I told her no. I said to the nurse that I never wash my hands. I explained that whenever my hands feel sticky or look dirty, I would simply rub them back and forth between my arm pits. She looked stunned. Then I told her I was only joking.

Amazingly, the second part of this exam consisted of the nurse giving me instructions on how to properly wash my hands. This time I'm not joking. As per Department of Correctional Services policy and procedure, every inmate who's being assigned to the kitchen must receive an approximately three minute lecture along with a demonstration on how to properly wash one's hands.

I could tell that the nurse was more embarrassed than I was. But she told me she's required to do this. So she then took a bar of soap, walked to the little sink that's in her office, and proceeded to demonstrate to me how to use the soap.

I thought the whole thing was funny, and I told her so. She was also laughing. I said that I felt like a three year old being taught by his mom. Nevertheless, having passed the medical part of the exam plus having to endure the "how to properly use a bar of soap" demo, I'm now ready to tackle the kitchen work.

D.B.

This morning my chaplain gave a timely sermon on what it means to be a well disciplined soldier for Jesus Christ. He has been sharing this message from the second letter to Timothy in the New Testament for two consecutive Sundays. And as he took the congregation through all that's required in being a good disciple, I had to privately confess to the Lord that there are areas in my life where I fall short and miss the mark. It was a time for honest introspection.

However, as a sidebar to the chaplain's sermon, because there was still time remaining before the prisoners had to return to our respective housing units, I was asked to share a short exhortation. So I went behind the pulpit to give an approximately ten minute talk. My theme was, "Hope, even in prison." I told the men of God's faithfulness to me during my thirty-one years of incarceration. How that even in here I have a spiritually satisfying life because Jesus is with me. I read John 10:10 which speaks of the Christian being able to have an abundant life through the Lord, and how this promise is for those in prison, too.

I hope the men were encouraged by what I had to say.

D.B.

I am in the process of being humbled. It's the last day of the month and my fourth day of working in the kitchen. The work is hard. I'm on the go from morning till evening with only a few breaks where I could go back to my cell for a little while before having to return to the kitchen. And the hours from four o'clock to 7:30 are the hardest because supper is our biggest meal. It's after supper when my crew sees a parade of pots and pans of all shapes and sizes. We wash, scrub, and dry everything from large aluminum sheet pans for baked goods to huge and heavy cast iron or stainless steel pots that are used for foods like pasta, rice, beans and sauces. The kitchen workers cook for almost eight hundred men to include the approximately 220 inmates who live in the nearby minimum security annex.

I work in what is called the "Pot Room." Here the action is non-stop from breakfast to supper. There are piles of pots and pans which have to be washed and degreased. I work with two or three other men. We must clean every pot, pan and cooking utensil by washing it in a strong industrial detergent and then scrub it with a scouring pad. Next each item gets dunked into a bin of bleach water, then rinsed in fresh water before being returned to its respective place on the shelf.

Then, after the pots, pans and utensils are put away and accounted for, I have to help wash the walls with disinfectant, disinfect the wash basins and sinks, scrub the tiled floor, empty the sump pans in the drainage system, and mop all the water from off the floor. And there's lots of water because during the washing process water gets pooled at my feet and it soaks through my work boots.

Fortunately, for a few of the Pot Room and Dishwasher Area workers, they have prison issued rubber boots. These are similar to the kind that fishermen use when wading into knee deep water. But there aren't enough rubber boots for everyone. However, in due time, if I'm lucky, I may be able to get a pair should another man leave on a transfer and he then chooses to give his pair to me. Otherwise my feet will have to stay wet.

Nevertheless, the kitchen is an interesting operation where three meals per day must be prepared for some 800 or more men. It's very hot in the kitchen, too, and very noisy.

For me, working in such a place is a challenging experience. Most of the men are younger than me. So I must keep pace with inmates who are in their twenties and thirties. The best part, though, is that I am working with several guys who are Christian. Some of them only work during the morning or lunch shifts, while a couple of them do all three shifts like me. Yet we're able to pray together and read our Bibles during breaks. And as their pastor I have to set the example by demonstrating a good work ethic. Interestingly some of these fellows never held a job when they were out on the streets, unless you'd consider car thieves and burglars as having a profession. I find it ironic that men heave to come to prison to find honest work.

D.B.