MORE THAN A MAN
By Rick Mathes
Maximum security penitentiary leaps off the screen of a James Cagney movie with long metal catwalks and tier after tier of cages holding the incorrigibles locked down 23 hours a day. The level 5 security risks are separated into four geographical quadrants so that even a chow or shower-time, the gangs cannot assemble together. Divide and conquer is particularly applicable to this bizarre nation of murderers and mutilators doing life without parole sentences.
Once a month, at my evangelistic service, the chapel is the place where all the campus general population is restricted to a central and presumed contained location; the chapel! As over four hundred inmates began filing in by group sections, I was painfully apprehensive that two high-powered rifles were being directed at them by sharp-shooters from the safe position overhead and behind my back. They assembled into their respective gangs; Chicago, East St. Louis, gang-bangers, black Muslims, white Aryans and of course the Christians.
The Warden came up to me and he said that he anticipated an insurrection to take place because he was compelled to allow sixty trouble makers and effeminate homosexuals from Protective Custody to join us from the balcony overlooking the auditorium. These infidels could not even live their own kind! The bottom of the barrel.
The balcony began to fill as they flexed their muscles, sneered and could he heard cursing the name of Jesus. The crowd was growing anxious and I sensed the presence of Satan. I signaled the praise team to begin singing and I dropped to my knees in foreboding desperation of the danger I had led my devoted volunteers into. I cried out to the Lord and began rebuking Satan with all the faith that was in me. A hollowed hush fell over the chapel and through tear blurred eyes, I looked out over the assembly and witnessed a modern day miracle.
About two hundred Christian prisoners had turned their backs to me and were standing upright, in the midst of this living hell. They lifted their holy hands to the balcony and began praying out loud in the Spirit of the Lord. Those few minutes seemed like an eternity as I observed the Spirit of God rush through that demon possessed gallery of incorrigibles. Behold, fourteen notorious gang leaders rose to their feet and cried out to Jesus for salvation! With tears streaming down their faces, the overwhelmed gang members on the ground floor began to stand with their leaders to do the same and I had yet to deliver a word of my sermon to any of them. I cried out, “There is a God!”
The service then began and at the completion I gave an alter call. The alter was flooded with a sea of repentant sinners. I was sobbing too hard to even recite a sinner’s prayer, so I handed the microphone to the black Pastor assisting me. He too was helpless to say a word. So a prisoner doing a double life sentence plus 50 years led them to the throne of grace; the old rugged Cross.
When the service had concluded and the men were led out cell block by cell block, I gathered uou team for praise and prayers of thanksgiving. I later learned that 23 shanks (weapons) were left on the stage! Faith coupled with fervent prayer had prevailed.
PRESS ON!
Rick Mathes 