Some churches are huge brick buildings with steeples so high they split the morning clouds. Some churches are small white wooden boxes on the sides of hilltops that have grass fields for parking lots. Some churches are filled with stained glass windows and some churches still have the original thin wood glass panes.
Some churches have metal detectors and steel barred doors.
And so it was with the church in the Columbia County Detention Center in Appling, Georgia.
There are no Sunday school classrooms. Only pods separating the different areas of the residents. There are no brightly lit pulpit areas with pews lining a pearly white sanctuary. Only a room with a small wooden table and plastic stack chairs act as the sanctuary. There are no pianos or guitars or choirs with flowing robes and hymnals. Only residents in orange coveralls and crocs.
The leader of the day’s church group was led down the long hallway to MAX. MAX was the pod area where the church service took place. TWO steel doors had to be breeched to enter MAX and an officer escort was necessary to enter. That goes for residents as well as church leaders.
A group of parishioners entered eager for the day’s lesson. The rubber crocs squeaked like a Lakers game on the shiny clean tile floor. The leader welcomed the group.
“What’s up fellaaas?!!?”
I bet you don’t get a greeting shouted like that when you enter your church.
“Hey, hey, Preacher!”
That’s what the residents called the leader. Preacher. A couple of high fives. A hug from “Pete” who had been there awhile. Smiles of gratitude gleaming even though some featured meth teeth. Neck tattoos instead of neckties. Scars from past battles. Some with scars on the heart that can’t be seen.
The attendees included drug addicts and alcoholics. There was an abusive husband. Two thieves. One guy was addicted to porn and guilty of illegal distribution. One very young white man sat in the corner quiet with his head down. Another man kept sliding out four letter words and apologizing for letting it slip.
All the hellos and welcomes were spoken and names exchanged, but the one quiet man continued to sit with his head down and wouldn’t answer when names were being given. He just shook his head.
Time is short in jail sermons, so the lesson started.
It was an overview of the book of Romans, but the specific focus was chapter 5. The lesson began. All eyes followed Preacher pacing back and forth. No yawns or checking a watch to see how much longer until church ends. Not that they had a watch to check anyway.
The lesson got thicker as the leader started grinding. The leader held out the Bible and took a long look around the room.
“This says we are all the same. God says that every man sitting here today has sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. That means we are all destined to go to hell whether you stole money or you lusted over porn. Have you ever disrespected your mama or grandmother or aunt? You’re in trouble. Hey, if you are a drunk or you scream God’s name in vain in an angry stream of cussin’, you’re bound for hell. That means if you have lied, cheated, or put weed, meth, cocaine, or anything ahead of your relationship with God you are destined for hell.”
“D***, Preacher. We’s all in trouble then.”
The four letter slipper caught himself again after the uncomfortable chuckling in the room. Preacher smiled and nodded.
“Me, too.”
“You, too?” Asked the surprised front row cusser.
“Yes sir, we are all in trouble. Deep trouble. D*** is right because it’s damnation to hell forever and the Bible says it’s a horrible place. You think being locked up here is awful? Ha! Cake walk compared to hell. Separation from God and your friends and family that love and serve Him. In fact, verse 10 says we are considered enemies of God if we are without Jesus. How do you feel about being called an enemy of God?”
The lesson went on. Some heads were nodding big. Some were hanging low.
But then the lesson turned to Romans 5: 8. Preacher laid it out.
“Verse 10 said we were considered enemies of God. Verse 6 said we were powerless! But verse 8 says God demonstrated His great love for sinners like me and like you. You see, we are powerless and weak willed, but He loved us so much that He sent Jesus anyway KNOWING you and I would be what we are. Knowing we would fail miserably. Are you recognizing who you are?!! More importantly, are you recognizing Who He is?!! Oooo man, holla if ya hear me!”
“YES, YES! I know! Oh God! I know! Please, God, help me!”
All heads turned to the young man in the corner that had refused to speak earlier. He had come to life. He hadn’t said much of anything since he arrived at the jail days earlier and now BOOM. He got up and shuffled towards the leader. He obviously was familiar with the twelve step rehab programs because he spoke as they would.
“Hi, my name is Kenny and I’m addicted….” He could barely speak though his sobs. Sucking wind sobs. The tears were dripping from his nose.
“I have tried everything in my life and I’ve got nothing. I’ve lost everything. I got no money or place to live. Even lost my family. Except for my Granny that prays for me every day. I told her all that was stupid, but she kept on praying anyway. I can’t quit thinking about it, and now you come in here saying the same thing my Granny does. When you were talking, it’s like you were talking to just me. Like you been living with me or something. Lawyer says I’m being transferred this week, but I can’t leave for Trenton if I don’t have Jesus to take with me. I can’t live this way anymore. I want different. Do you think He would have me?”
Fifteen men, black and white, tall and short, old and young, arms around each other, encircled Kenny on his knees on the floor of that jail pod. “Mmm hmm, yes, Lord,” they were quietly praying.
I bet you don’t have that in your church either.
Kenny and Preacher prayed together on the floor of that jail pod for Jesus to become the center of Kenny’s life and to help him turn from his previous ways.
“Wash me hard ‘cause I need a good scrubbin’ “ was how Kenny sincerely prayed it. I couldn’t help but in my mind see Jesus smiling
There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Maybe a guard or two cried as well. Heck, it’s hard to type now with foggy wet glasses.
Kenny said, “I can’t wait to tell my Granny! And hey, everybody else, too!”
Now that is REAL CHURCH. God bless the men and women who go into our jails and give the Hope of Jesus. I think the world needs a lot more REAL CHURCH.
Oooo man, holla if ya hear me!! We all need a good scrubbin’.
