Yesterday afternoon I witnessed grace, mercy, and compassion poured out in the most unexpected of places and between the most unexpected of people.
For the past several years, we have partnered with the local detention center each fall to bring pumpkins and mums to area nursing homes. A small group of qualifying inmates works a large garden space to grow the pumpkins and the mums. Gary has been the inmate in charge of this program for the past several years. When we go to pick up the pumpkins and mums, he works hard to help us get them loaded up and we talk about how the growing season went. He tells us about his grandmother and how he has a heart for the elderly. He puts so much effort into the garden that it has always made me a little sad that he never sees the smiles he puts on the faces of so many nursing home residents.
Last fall we discussed a possible project for Spring, and we decided on wooden crosses for the Easter season. We gave him the dimensions we thought would work best, and left the rest up to Gary. For months, Gary worked in the wood shop at the jail and hand crafted pocket-sized wooden crosses. Each cross was carefully torch-burned to create a rich, charred finish that highlights the natural grain, and engraved with words of encouragement—Faith, Grace, Hope, Love, Blessed. He made 100 crosses—tangible reminders of God’s mercy and redemption.
Then I had a crazy idea—what if Gary came and delivered the crosses to the nursing home residents himself?! I didn’t even know if that was possible, but after careful coordination, Gary was permitted to go to one local nursing home and deliver them. What happened next flooded my heart with emotion.
The residents were gathered in a group in the activity room. Accompanied by the jailer and a deputy, and wearing his bright orange inmate sweatshirt, he explained who he was and why he was there. Then he started walking around and handing a cross to the residents. One by one they turned the crosses over in their hands, admiring his craftsmanship and complimenting him. And then suddenly… this large guy in a bright orange inmate sweatshirt was being told by sweet little elderly ladies that he was loved and he was forgiven. One resident told him, “I’ve been where you are now and I made it. You’ll make it too.” Before I knew what was happening, one resident got up and gave him a hug. She put her hand on his chest and said, “He’s right in there. He’s with you. He sees what you’re doing. And this (she touched the word inmate on his shirt) is going to go away.” Gary was weeping. I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I had hoped this would be a happy afternoon and a blessing for everyone involved, but I never imagined that the Spirit would rush through the room like that.
In the weeks leading up to today, we’d worked through concerns regarding security, appearances and the logistics of how he’d need to be accompanied and where he’d be allowed to go. All of a sudden, none of that mattered. After he passed out the crosses to everyone in the room, the residents wanted him to speak. He told them about his upcoming possibility of parole. More importantly, he told them how God had been working in his life. The jailer prayed, Gary received more hugs, and more tears fell down his face. He was even invited back to do crafts or play games with residents once he’s out of jail.
Seeing how the residents so warmly received and accepted Gary made me think about how, though their circumstances are different, inmates and nursing home residents share something deeper—similar emotional experiences that come from living inside the walls that keep them isolated from the rest of the world. And while I understand that someone who lives inside a jail has been placed there as a result of his or her bad choices, there is still an emotional weight that I believe connected Gary and those nursing home residents. Both have lost their independence and autonomy. They are told when to eat, what to do, and where they can and cannot go. Both live inside a facility where they are surrounded by people, and yet, often feel deeply alone. And like it or not, both are inevitably defined by their circumstances. One is an “inmate” or “prisoner” and the other is a “patient” or a “resident.” In both cases, those labels often overshadow their full personhood. Having compassion for someone doesn’t excuse wrongdoing (as in the case of an inmate), but it does mean that we don’t see people as only the worst thing they ever did—or in the case of a nursing home resident, we don’t see them as only their dementia or their frailty. “The Lord does not look at the things people look at… the Lord looks at the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7
It was both humbling and encouraging to be part of what happened yesterday. I am honored and grateful to have been present to witness what God did in that crowded little activity room in the nursing home. Thank you to the nursing home for allowing us to be there. Thank you to Gary for living out Hebrews 13:16 even from inside a jail. “Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.” And I am thankful for a jailer who cares deeply enough about people to look past their labels and see their heart.
“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” Matthew 25:34-40
