One Christmas Morning

It is not often that I cry but today was different. It was 12 am of Christmas day when we all came out of our cells to wish each other a Merry Christmas. Some people were asleep in their cells so my Mexican friend and I decided to go in their cells and woke them up with the song, 'Feliz Navidad'. After that the Hispanic group and I planned on staying up all night drinking coffee. While we were doing that in the cell, some guys joined us in the cell and said thay wanted to sing Christmas songs. We gave some of them coffee too and brought some hymnals and started singing Christmas songs.

 

I have been in worship bands and also been a worship leader in the free world where most of the songs we sang were in key and it sounded fairly good. This was not anything like that. This was a group of convicts packed in a small cell who were geeked up on coffee, who couldn't hit a single note right. We were all laughing, giggling and singing loudly the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. In That moment, God gently took my attention and showed me something. He showed me Heaven. He showed me a group of misfits, outcasts and sinners dressed all in white intent on giving God their best through their singing in a cold cell, sitting on a toiler and a sink. He showed me a group of people though we couldn’t hit a single note right, we all sang in one accord. He showed me the meaning of 'sorrowful yet Rejoicing.' In that moment, God showed me heaven. 

 

Then suddenly, God drew my attention to a question that shook my heart. "Who is pleading for them?"

 

In that cell, if one would’ve summed up the total amount of time due to the prison, it would’ve been over 100 years. You see, so many who are in prison are forgotten. They are forgotten by the world and even their own families. I know that because I get mail from my family and friends and they don’t. When I call home, they don’t. When I get ready for a video visit, they do not. 

"Who is pleading for them?"

 

There are many men here who have more than two decades left to do in prison. When I see them, I see the hurt in their eyes. When they are near me, I can feel the heaviness of their hearts. When they walk, I see them taking every step feeling defeated. We want to be known, not as criminals but just as people who have made some mistakes. We want to be called by our first names, not by a number. We long to be loved again. My friends here and I have made a mistake and now are paying for it. But these cells can get really cold and lonely. Every brick surrounds us with the guilt of our past sins and beats you bloody with it. Sometimes the end of the tunnel seems so far away. 

Who is pleading for us?

 

If you are reading this letter, I am not asking you to donate money to a prison association or any other thing, but I am asking you to go to the Throne-room of God that is covered in the blood of Jesus and plead with God on behalf of the prisoners as one pleads for a friend (Job 16:21). Plead not only for the physical freedom but also for the spirit of the Lord to stir the hearts of the people in the prisons for 'where the spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.' (2 Cor 3:17).

 

God showed me Heaven:

“The wolf will live with the lamb,

The leopard will lie down with the goat,

The calf and the Lion and the Yearling together;

And a Little Child will lead them.”

Isaiah 11:6