"Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep."
Romans 12:15
Jack died today...
Romans 12:15
Jack died today...
He had been in prison for maybe fifteen years, and he was in his 40s. It was AIDS. As far as I know he was not a Christian and, during our many talks, he always insisted that his help was coming from the "Hindu goddess Kali," as well as the "Virgin Mary," and his "Santeria powers."
Jack was a "jailhouse lawyer" and a fighter. I watched this stubborn and strong-willed man waste away, his skin covered with brownish-colored open sores. It was gross to look at.
I met Jack several years ago in the "Big Yard." He used to watch the Christian brothers walk around with our Bibles. During the warmer weather, the open yard was a place for some of us to meet impromptu. Whenever a Christian showed up, he hung out with the other brothers. And of course, inviting some "unsaved" men to pal around with us was the common practice. And so here came Jack.
When I worked in the chapel as a clerk, which I did for several years, Jack would almost always drop by for a discussion. He worked as a porter in the same building complex. Naturally I "witnessed" to him many times, and so did many of the other Christians.
Jack was so stubborn, convinced he could solve life's problems and lick AIDS by "thinking positive." But he did go to a number of our services, sometimes on Sundays and at other times, when various ministries would come in.
I wish I had some kind of confirmation in my heart that Jack turned to Christ and received Jesus as his Savior before he died. I watched him get sicker as time went on. There would be weeks when I would not see him because he was in the hospital. He went on many medical trips for treatments. He battled his sickness every step of the way.
Last week I heard that, once again, Jack was admitted to the prison hospital. As with many who have the "Virus" (or as it is also nicknamed, "The Monster"), they make their trips back and forth to the hospital. But as they each get sicker and weaker, there's that one "last trip." This one was his.
Jack never returned. Quietly a few corrections officers went into his cell in the housing unit he lived in, and they packed his things. This is how everyone knew that Jack won't be back.
He was well liked and respected among the inmates. So everyone in the prison was talking about it. When I got the news, I wept silently for him, and I will remember to keep his family in my prayers. I don't know who or where they are. But within the next several days or weeks someone from his family will have to come and claim his personal property (which is now in temporary storage). And they will have to claim his body for private burial.
However, if no one claims him, Jack will be in our Potter's Field. Every maximum-security prison has a Potter's Field. It comes with the territory, because not every inmate gets out of prison alive, and not every inmate has a family. In fact, even some who do have families, they have the option to refuse to get the remains. This sometimes happens, either because of no money or no interest.
I hope that my friend Jack gets a decent burial, at least. But most of all, I hope to see him in Heaven one day.
D.B.
*Jack is not his real name.
Jack was a "jailhouse lawyer" and a fighter. I watched this stubborn and strong-willed man waste away, his skin covered with brownish-colored open sores. It was gross to look at.
I met Jack several years ago in the "Big Yard." He used to watch the Christian brothers walk around with our Bibles. During the warmer weather, the open yard was a place for some of us to meet impromptu. Whenever a Christian showed up, he hung out with the other brothers. And of course, inviting some "unsaved" men to pal around with us was the common practice. And so here came Jack.
When I worked in the chapel as a clerk, which I did for several years, Jack would almost always drop by for a discussion. He worked as a porter in the same building complex. Naturally I "witnessed" to him many times, and so did many of the other Christians.
Jack was so stubborn, convinced he could solve life's problems and lick AIDS by "thinking positive." But he did go to a number of our services, sometimes on Sundays and at other times, when various ministries would come in.
I wish I had some kind of confirmation in my heart that Jack turned to Christ and received Jesus as his Savior before he died. I watched him get sicker as time went on. There would be weeks when I would not see him because he was in the hospital. He went on many medical trips for treatments. He battled his sickness every step of the way.
Last week I heard that, once again, Jack was admitted to the prison hospital. As with many who have the "Virus" (or as it is also nicknamed, "The Monster"), they make their trips back and forth to the hospital. But as they each get sicker and weaker, there's that one "last trip." This one was his.
Jack never returned. Quietly a few corrections officers went into his cell in the housing unit he lived in, and they packed his things. This is how everyone knew that Jack won't be back.
He was well liked and respected among the inmates. So everyone in the prison was talking about it. When I got the news, I wept silently for him, and I will remember to keep his family in my prayers. I don't know who or where they are. But within the next several days or weeks someone from his family will have to come and claim his personal property (which is now in temporary storage). And they will have to claim his body for private burial.
However, if no one claims him, Jack will be in our Potter's Field. Every maximum-security prison has a Potter's Field. It comes with the territory, because not every inmate gets out of prison alive, and not every inmate has a family. In fact, even some who do have families, they have the option to refuse to get the remains. This sometimes happens, either because of no money or no interest.
I hope that my friend Jack gets a decent burial, at least. But most of all, I hope to see him in Heaven one day.
D.B.
*Jack is not his real name.