It was a busy morning once again. Normally I get up every Sunday at five o'clock, although as I get older it takes me longer to roll off my bunk to begin the day...
By 8:15, however, I am on my way to the chapel where I will join up with eight other men who, like myself, are the congregation's official set-up crew. We have to set up our musical equipment which includes keyboards, and electric guitar, and a full drum set. We also have to hook-up the sound system. In addition, we've got other basic things to do, too. We must arrange the chairs, place Bibles and song sheets on the seats, and we also hang colorful 3x5 foot Scripture banners at certain designated places along the walls of the chapel so as to help create an atmosphere of warmth and fellowship. Otherwise, without such additions, our chapel would look like the typical nondescript room that one would find in any correctional facility.
As with many prisons such as this one, the chapel's concrete walls are painted in the standard white paint that such institutions are noted for, while the doorframes are in bland brown. And the metal doors which lead to the storage rooms are an ugly battleship gray. So, to offset this unattractive color arrangement, we try our best with what we have to work with to make the place look pretty. We even have an assortment of ten different bouquets of plastic flowers that we'd station in various parts of the room to add to the decor.
For me the chapel is a place where I can join with my Christian friends to worship God. And on most Sundays we also have outside guests who gather with us as well. They're primarily lay Christians who volunteer their time to come and tell us about the word of God and how much He loves us even though we're locked up for various crimes. As I have oftentimes said in both this journal and in letters to friends, the chapel is an oasis in a place that one could call a desert of despair.
D.B.
As with many prisons such as this one, the chapel's concrete walls are painted in the standard white paint that such institutions are noted for, while the doorframes are in bland brown. And the metal doors which lead to the storage rooms are an ugly battleship gray. So, to offset this unattractive color arrangement, we try our best with what we have to work with to make the place look pretty. We even have an assortment of ten different bouquets of plastic flowers that we'd station in various parts of the room to add to the decor.
For me the chapel is a place where I can join with my Christian friends to worship God. And on most Sundays we also have outside guests who gather with us as well. They're primarily lay Christians who volunteer their time to come and tell us about the word of God and how much He loves us even though we're locked up for various crimes. As I have oftentimes said in both this journal and in letters to friends, the chapel is an oasis in a place that one could call a desert of despair.
D.B.
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