The fool has said in his heart, "There is no God."
Psalm 14:1a
The reality of being in prison truly hits you when...
Psalm 14:1a
The reality of being in prison truly hits you when...
...you realize within the deepest part of your heart that you played the fool. The pimping, the drugs, the desire for money along with fancy clothes and a fleet of expensive cars, was all in your head. It was only a dream. It was an illusion. A belief that if you had the right hustle and made the right moves, you would in turn be rich and respected, and that all the money you made would be your ticket out of the ghetto, was a lie.
In the end, all you got was a prison sentence. "My dream died when the handcuffs were put on." These were the words of a forty-something year old guy by the name of Earl, whom I met some twenty years ago when I was housed at New York's Sullivan Correctional Facility. Earl and I were in the same cell block, where he and I would talk on occasion, mostly about life in general. We both grew up in New York City. He in Brooklyn, and me in the Bronx. We were both doing life sentences, too.
In his younger days, Earl, a confessed high school dropout, ran the streets of the housing projects where he grew up. While I grew up in the Soundview section of the Bronx where, fortunately, my dad pushed me through high school. And if not for him, I too probably would not have graduated.
Earl wanted the "good life." His definition of this would be lots of money and lots of ladies. Frankly, untold numbers of young men want this, too. But like so many from his age group, he went the wrong way. At age twenty, he shot and killed a rival drug dealer and pimp. And with a sentence of 25-years to life, that was the end of his dream.
But if there was any solace for Earl, there were dozens of men locked up with him who carried the same story. "If I only had lots of money." And while it was not wrong to want money, there's a right way to get it, and a wrong way. Earl regrettably chose the wrong way. "Eliminate the competitor," he thought to himself. So he did!
Earl was also a gang-banger. He was popular amongst his peers. Outgoing and charismatic, the other prisoners from the gang he belonged to seemed to hang on to his every word. But Earl was a realist as well. While he valued the camaraderie of his crew, he knew that his relationship with his peers was only skin deep.
Earl knew that once his time was up, he would get out and rejoin what was left of his family. Now in for twenty-three years, like many long-termers, Earl's remaining grandmother who helped raise him, along with his mother and father, and an older sister, had all passed away of natural causes. So did an aunt and uncle, and a handful of old friends from "the hood."
In sum, prison gangs are, in my opinion as an interested observer, mainly about power, pride, prestige, and self-preservation. They're also about survival because, as the popular saying goes, "There's safety in numbers."
Personally, I don't think they're as tightly-knit as they make themselves out to be. Between transfers to different prisons, guys making parole, and others getting sick and aging while behind bars, are some of the weak links to such groupings.
While others lose interest after seeing some of the betrayals and hypocrisy that gangs also experience within their ranks. And some begin to see this gang stuff is really about nothing, and they want out. But for me, as a Christian who tries to live out my faith, I am joyful whenever I see a so-called gang member come to faith in Christ. His decision to do so is a monumental one because of the repercussions he could possibly face from his peers, who may see this man's decision as an act of desertion.
It takes courage to make the decision to follow Jesus instead of following a gang. The Christian life is not for cowards, but for those who want to follow the Lord Jesus even at the cost of their very lives, if necessary. All told, gangs have been around since biblical times. They offer nothing of eternal value, while Jesus offers the gift of eternal life to all those who would place their faith in Him, along with a life of peace, joy, and hope in the Holy Spirit.
D.B.
In the end, all you got was a prison sentence. "My dream died when the handcuffs were put on." These were the words of a forty-something year old guy by the name of Earl, whom I met some twenty years ago when I was housed at New York's Sullivan Correctional Facility. Earl and I were in the same cell block, where he and I would talk on occasion, mostly about life in general. We both grew up in New York City. He in Brooklyn, and me in the Bronx. We were both doing life sentences, too.
In his younger days, Earl, a confessed high school dropout, ran the streets of the housing projects where he grew up. While I grew up in the Soundview section of the Bronx where, fortunately, my dad pushed me through high school. And if not for him, I too probably would not have graduated.
Earl wanted the "good life." His definition of this would be lots of money and lots of ladies. Frankly, untold numbers of young men want this, too. But like so many from his age group, he went the wrong way. At age twenty, he shot and killed a rival drug dealer and pimp. And with a sentence of 25-years to life, that was the end of his dream.
But if there was any solace for Earl, there were dozens of men locked up with him who carried the same story. "If I only had lots of money." And while it was not wrong to want money, there's a right way to get it, and a wrong way. Earl regrettably chose the wrong way. "Eliminate the competitor," he thought to himself. So he did!
Earl was also a gang-banger. He was popular amongst his peers. Outgoing and charismatic, the other prisoners from the gang he belonged to seemed to hang on to his every word. But Earl was a realist as well. While he valued the camaraderie of his crew, he knew that his relationship with his peers was only skin deep.
Earl knew that once his time was up, he would get out and rejoin what was left of his family. Now in for twenty-three years, like many long-termers, Earl's remaining grandmother who helped raise him, along with his mother and father, and an older sister, had all passed away of natural causes. So did an aunt and uncle, and a handful of old friends from "the hood."
In sum, prison gangs are, in my opinion as an interested observer, mainly about power, pride, prestige, and self-preservation. They're also about survival because, as the popular saying goes, "There's safety in numbers."
Personally, I don't think they're as tightly-knit as they make themselves out to be. Between transfers to different prisons, guys making parole, and others getting sick and aging while behind bars, are some of the weak links to such groupings.
While others lose interest after seeing some of the betrayals and hypocrisy that gangs also experience within their ranks. And some begin to see this gang stuff is really about nothing, and they want out. But for me, as a Christian who tries to live out my faith, I am joyful whenever I see a so-called gang member come to faith in Christ. His decision to do so is a monumental one because of the repercussions he could possibly face from his peers, who may see this man's decision as an act of desertion.
It takes courage to make the decision to follow Jesus instead of following a gang. The Christian life is not for cowards, but for those who want to follow the Lord Jesus even at the cost of their very lives, if necessary. All told, gangs have been around since biblical times. They offer nothing of eternal value, while Jesus offers the gift of eternal life to all those who would place their faith in Him, along with a life of peace, joy, and hope in the Holy Spirit.
D.B.
