There are prisons in my dreams.
Last night I was sent to prison for justifiable homicide of my ex-husband, who had committed several heinous crimes against myself and other women. I had been assured that I would only serve a few days, but in the end I was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.
At first I was going through tremendous grief and denial; I was trying to arrange to have communication with everyone on the outside, and meanwhile having to explain to anyone who came to visit that I was a minister and that what I really needed was for them to pray for me because my sentence was unjust and I had to get out of there.
I began to realize that there are prisons, and then there are prisons.
As I struggled to accept my position for the sake of surviving in captivity, what suddenly ran through my mind was the fact that Paul and Barnabas were in prison for no crimes against God or man except the telling of the gospel. I tried to wrap my mind around the reality that everyone in this prison also needed Jesus, and that perhaps I had no right to request or expect man's justice, but that God had provided an opportunity to me to share His love with those who are usually ignored.
The Lord also rebuked me, letting me know that I had not been fervent in my prayers for the lost souls, and that I was entirely too concerned for my own welfare, which was indeed His business since I was His child. I began to look at those around me, even those who came to visit other prisoners, as the very ones He was wanting to save. Chastened in my soul, I forced my body to silence its calls for softness and well-being so that I could attend to the prayer to which God had always called me.
Ultimately I struck some kind of balance, wherein I petitioned God to help me find favor for my case so that I could be released, but also prayed fervently for my fellow inmates that they would discover the richness and kindness of the Lord. I realized that the prison of the flesh can be the home of the flesh, but it cannot keep the spirit caged that belongs to God Almighty. I also realized that the kindness and severity of the Lord never wastes a stroke, and I had the sense that I would one day be released, but that I must attend to the battle for the souls of men and do my part in warfare as God commanded.
Acceptance is the first step to obedience.
As I began to hush my fears and open my ears, the Lord began to bring me peace. I came to understand that all the time I had thought my life was in my own keeping, I truly was not in control at all. I realized that I could live in prison quite well, with my meals and clothing provided me. I saw that how I related to others, and how they responded to me - that was the test of life, whether inside or out. I knew I would miss my dear husband and prayed for the day that I could see his face and enjoy his company without restriction once more. Yet, I also saw that the love of my husband and my son and all my friends and family were gifts from God, and that was something I must not take for granted without great gratitude.
As God showed me all the reasons I must not fight against my position, except to bring it to Him in prayer as an act of submission, I became more at peace. All the layers of reasons and excuses and exceptions that I had brought to the fight fell off of me, and all that was left was humility and a desire to serve God with all my heart, even if my body must be imprisoned for life.
I awoke, gasping for air as I fumbled for the ringing telephone.
I remain chastened in soul and humble as I wait for the Lord to further unfold this very sharp lesson to me. I will not yet speak of my cursory observations, for fear they will be premature: a fault I have had too often in the past. I will wait on the Lord and look to Him to teach me what I must know. God willing there will be something more to share.
Rev. Cathian
life in prison
