This Sunday morning, we had our regular worship service, and then in the evening...
...I went back to the chapel for our Bible study and fellowship. During Sunday evenings the meetings are less structured and more informal, which is good because we can all talk and get to know each other better. In a prison setting, it isn't easy for defensive barriers to come down, so prisoners can learn to trust and open up their lives and share with one another. In the Christian fellowship, however, since we consider ourselves family, we've been able to open up more and also learn how to be more sensitive to one another's needs and situations.
One of our Christian brothers, a young black man named Leroy who is in his mid-twenties and has been locked up since 1998, came up to me at this evening's service and said he wanted to show me some things he had felt inspired to write. Leroy is a very meek, quiet, and shy person, yet he likes to sing and write songs, even though he doesn't know anything about writing musical notes.
"Brother Dave," he said as he approached me with a smile, "Check out my writings." I was pleased to see that Leroy was making an effort to express himself in this way, since he has little formal education. On paper, to the best of his ability, Leroy had poured out his heart. His spelling and sentence structure wasn't the best, but as I read the six pages he gave me, I saw the big heart of a broken and humble man who loves his God and who strives to make the best of life, in spite of his past failings.
My heart went out to Leroy as I read his moving words. He wrote of how, when he was nineteen, he had married a girl from North Carolina who had come to New York City in search of a better life. Both of them were high school dropouts. She was visiting friends in the apartment building where Leroy lived. They met and fell in love, got married, and then realized that neither had a job nor any work experience. Not surprisingly, the marriage between the two immature and impulsive young people didn't last.
Leroy had done his best to write about his failed marriage, and about the woman who had returned to her hometown with less money than when she had left. He spoke about his own struggles with drugs, about getting high out of boredom, and about the wasted years spent hanging out on a street corner along crime-infested Ralph Avenue in Brooklyn.
He also talked about watching the person he had been closest to, his cousin Alfred, getting shot dead when an argument with a neighbor got out of control. Leroy's pain and regret came through loud and clear. But what blessed me the most was when Leroy began to share about his faith in Christ and his love for the Lord. He wrote with joy about how God had blessed his life, for Leroy regularly attends the chapel services here; he tries his best to read the Bible, and he loves to pray.
Unlike many who languish here, Leroy is moving on. Though he came to prison for committing botched burglary and has been classified by the prison system as having a learning disability, he is still making the best of things.
I was happy that Leroy was writing his thoughts and feelings down on paper, and I'm glad that he has made his peace with God. Leroy is a special brother to me, and a prime example of yet another young man that God has saved from the crazy streets and from an empty life.
D.B.
One of our Christian brothers, a young black man named Leroy who is in his mid-twenties and has been locked up since 1998, came up to me at this evening's service and said he wanted to show me some things he had felt inspired to write. Leroy is a very meek, quiet, and shy person, yet he likes to sing and write songs, even though he doesn't know anything about writing musical notes.
"Brother Dave," he said as he approached me with a smile, "Check out my writings." I was pleased to see that Leroy was making an effort to express himself in this way, since he has little formal education. On paper, to the best of his ability, Leroy had poured out his heart. His spelling and sentence structure wasn't the best, but as I read the six pages he gave me, I saw the big heart of a broken and humble man who loves his God and who strives to make the best of life, in spite of his past failings.
My heart went out to Leroy as I read his moving words. He wrote of how, when he was nineteen, he had married a girl from North Carolina who had come to New York City in search of a better life. Both of them were high school dropouts. She was visiting friends in the apartment building where Leroy lived. They met and fell in love, got married, and then realized that neither had a job nor any work experience. Not surprisingly, the marriage between the two immature and impulsive young people didn't last.
Leroy had done his best to write about his failed marriage, and about the woman who had returned to her hometown with less money than when she had left. He spoke about his own struggles with drugs, about getting high out of boredom, and about the wasted years spent hanging out on a street corner along crime-infested Ralph Avenue in Brooklyn.
He also talked about watching the person he had been closest to, his cousin Alfred, getting shot dead when an argument with a neighbor got out of control. Leroy's pain and regret came through loud and clear. But what blessed me the most was when Leroy began to share about his faith in Christ and his love for the Lord. He wrote with joy about how God had blessed his life, for Leroy regularly attends the chapel services here; he tries his best to read the Bible, and he loves to pray.
Unlike many who languish here, Leroy is moving on. Though he came to prison for committing botched burglary and has been classified by the prison system as having a learning disability, he is still making the best of things.
I was happy that Leroy was writing his thoughts and feelings down on paper, and I'm glad that he has made his peace with God. Leroy is a special brother to me, and a prime example of yet another young man that God has saved from the crazy streets and from an empty life.
D.B.