Lisa went away for the weekend, and I ended up in jail. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve visited anyone in prison (my vicarage
year!), so I was apprehensive. I didn’t know the person. I visited them at the request of his significant other.
I sat in one of those rooms where you sit behind glass stations with a phone in front of you. The guy picked me out right away, and began ranting and raving about how angry and frustrated he was. I could barely hear him through the phone I was using. I didn’t get to say much; just listened. He had been in for 90 days so far. I’d be pretty angry and frustrated, too, I guess.
Anyway, after about 45 minutes, I said I’d talk with him again when he was out. What I’ll say, I have no idea. I was there only because I could hear the voice of Jesus in my head, “…when I was in prison, you visited me…” Did I make a difference? I doubt it. But who knows?
