My night in jail.

I had a life changing experience last night. I spent a little over an hour in Brown County Jail. I was lucky because I got to go home at the end of the night. I was there with Rick, Bob and Ron from Nashville Christian Church, also known as the band "The Barnstormers". We were there to have a worship service with some of the inmates. We would play our guitars, sing some songs, and Rick would have a message with some scripture.

Rick is the pastor at NCC, and the leader of the band. He's done prison ministry for a while, and I was quite happy to go along with him when he invited me to jail. I didn't have much of an expectation of the evening, other than looking forward to playing guitar for a little while.

Because of my job, I know a lot of statistics about the corrections system. It's really quite sobering in many respects. Did you know:

• In Indiana 1 in 31 people are either incarcerated or on parole?
• Indiana ranks #6 in the nation in it's percent of population in the correctional system.
• In Brown County, nearly 90% of offenders are in on drug related offenses.
• There is a 70% recidivism rate.
• A child has a 70% chance of being incarcerated if they have a parent that has been in jail.
• The corrections system bases it's ten-year growth plan, in part, on 3rd grade test scores. They know that low scores for eight year old kids means they will need more jails when those children turn 18.
  

I have only been to the jail one other time - to be fingerprinted for a gun license. As you pass through the automatic doors and hear them latch behind you as a voice on a speaker tells you to proceed... it feels otherworldly. You are completely at the mercy of that disembodied voice on the speaker. You do what they say.

We got to the jail and went through the control doors to the little area that is used for chapel services. If you forgot yourself for a moment, the concrete block walls could have been anywhere - a school or community center maybe - but the steel reinforced doors and large automatic locks would quickly snap you back to reality.

When the inmates came in, I didn't quite know what to think. There were nearly twenty guys in black and white stripes. They came in quickly and quietly to take their seats. I had never been so close to so many guys in stripes. Should I be afraid? Are they dangerous? These guys are criminals - thieves, murderers, drug dealers - hardened criminals. These are numbers in stripes that are doing their time for society, away from the rest of us to keep us safe. To be near these criminals is to stare danger in the face, right? Even in a controlled environment, one of these guys could beat me to death with my guitar before a guard could get in and stop them. At least that's what Cops and American Justice TV tells you.

I was not afraid.

If you took away the stripes for a minute, this was any other group of guys. They laughed and joked with Rick and Bob, whom they have gotten to know over the last few months. They leafed through the photocopied song books and immediately started asking for particular songs. They especially looked forward to the songs about freedom. Not as a cliche, not about escape... but to be free on many levels - certainly from the bonds of prison, but also from the bonds that may restrain them on a spiritual and emotional level. I sensed that they wanted their hearts to be free.

We played songs for about half an hour, with the guys shouting out requests and singing loudly along with the tunes. It was simple music from a couple of guitars and a trumpet, but to these guys it may have sounded like an orchestra. I was taken by their excitement over the music, their appreciation and participation. How many times have we sat in church and mealy-mouthed through the words, just waiting for the next moment we can sit back down?

After the music Rick's message was about grace and faith, and the guys were very engaged. There were several in particular that had comments and questions, and really interacted. It hit me that these guys didn't have to be there. They could have been back in their cell block playing cards or something. Even if they were doing it to "look good" to someone, they didn't have to be interested or engaged.

At the end of the chapel service, we all stood to form a circle, held hands and prayed together. I held the hand of a guy in stripes as he prayed for us. Many prayed thanks that we had come to play in worship with them. The other prayers made me forget the stripes and walls, and feel that we were in any other church small group.

Now, understand for a minute - some of these guys are going away to the big prison in Michigan City or Terre Haute. Dangerous places. Some of them may have done very bad things. And they are the church. Let me say that again. These men ARE the church. they are the body of Christ, saved by grace and forgiven... just like us on the outside. They are a source of light to their fellow prisoners. As we are to our community, so they are to theirs.

I was in a room with a 15 year old murderer, a 30 year old meth dealer, and sixteen other guys that have infracted the law... and for that hour I was part of their church. To worship, praise and seek The Lord just like the rest of us.

We are so conditioned by our society - TV, movies, the news - to adopt a view that these criminals are merely that - just criminals. It is easier to view them as the stereotype. When someone is only a label, we can put them away and relegate them to that section of our mind that says "they got what was coming", "they deserve what ever they get". When someone is dehumanized, we don't really give a shit what happens to them. Is that really justice?

As we stood in the circle and prayed, I cried. There was other sniffling in the room, but I cried. I cried for buying into the stereotype and forgetting that these men are people - sons and fathers. For buying into the belief that they are hardened, unfeeling bastards that are evil incarnate. I cried for their families that are separated from them for a very long time. I cried because I know when they get out, they will have it worse than when they went in - no job, no home, often abandoned by family, no credibility. Nobody hires an ex-con.

I cried because no one knows that this is the church. I felt more honesty and sincere desire for Christ in that room than in many years of services in other churches.

As followers of Christ, he tells us to care for the widows and orphans, and to visit the prisoners. He tells us that we will find HIM there. When Jesus lived, he spent his time with the sinners, not with the pharisees. He asks us to do the same. While we can have some wonderful worship in church with our peers and a message from the pulpit, I will tell you with all certainty that it is a magnitude better when you seek Christ with the poor and oppressed. It is not something you deliver to them, it is something that you seek and experience with them. That is more difficult than dropping off a box of sandwiches to the homeless mission, isn't it? It requires you to get your hands dirty and actually know these people. To see them as human, just like you. Their address and bank account do not define them any more than yours does of you.

As we prayed in that circle, our little group may have brought music and a message to those men, but they helped us see Christ in a very real way. It was a time to learn about forgiveness, faith and grace. If we believe those things, then how can we seek retribution? It is simple to seek vengeance against a number or a stereotype, but not against a man. Not when you see his face and know his name. Not when he sincerely prays for you and you for him.

I have learned that justice, penance and rehabilitation are not the same thing, and as it is applied by our system, they may be wholly unrelated. I know that we need laws in our society for order and suppression of chaos. I know that I was not in a jail that houses the "worst of the worst", and that there are some very dangerous characters out there. But YOU need to know that it is as wrong to paint these men with a single wide brush as it is to do the same thing on our side of the barbed wire fence.

With that, I will simply leave you with a few questions:

• How can it be called "Justice" when our justice system leaves ruination and dispair in its wake? When prisoners exit the system, it is nearly impossible to find work due to their prison record. How does this make society a better place?
  
• Most crimes are out of desperation. As our economy spirals down, crimes and violence are on the rise due to desperate situations. If our justice system causes prisoners to enter a ready-made desperate situation upon exit, then how does that do anything besides breed MORE CRIME?
• Long sentences for petty crime causes lives to collapse - far beyond what would be "just". A five year sentence for a little bit of pot really leads to the collapse of family and a life-long inability to find work. Is that justice?
• A startling percentage of people in prison are there on drug offenses - with a recidivism rate over 70%. Drug treatment has a better success rate AND a lower cost (both up-front cost and long-term cost to society and the individual). How can we support a system that is so discructive?
• As Christians, do we not have a responsibility to be a catalyst for forgiveness? To seek justice? To visit the widows, orphans and prisoners?
  
• As followers of Christ, do we have a responsibility to speak out against a broken system advocate for those that no longer have a voice?