GABRIEL & MICHAEL
By Rick Mathes
It was a gray, drizzly daybreak as I drove my car within sight of the cold and foreboding walls of the double-fenced penitentiary. The guards were cautiously stirring about in the look-out towers with their high-powered rifles plainly in sight. The razor wire was twisted over what seemed to be an illimitable perimeter around this bizarre city, a community of captives. The human garbage of society had been dumped on this sight.
I parked in a visitor designated lot and felt a thousand eyes upon me as I briskly walked to the main gate. The noises that only prisoners make were bouncing off of the stone walls as I caught glimpses of convicts spying out between the steel bars. They had already begun the news broadcasting by word of mouth and runners, that general population would be permitted to attend my chapel service. I had no idea that within a few hours a surge of inmates would be gathering to join me. I just walked in forced boldness to cover up my fears and apprehensions. I knew the Lord was with me and that this was going to be one of those times when I would need to step out of the boat and not hold on to the sides.
Once cleared at the electric eye and after a very thorough search by a stoic matter-of-fact officer, I was taken into the cool morning air. That first deep breath freed my lungs of the stale prison pungency of the central control quarters. A world within but without the real world. A society of degenerates that only an ex-convict can truly comprehend and yet fail to explain to outsiders.
Across the metal walkway, down the loose clanking steps and through the yard to my assigned housing unit. A muscular, tall C.O. with a disgusted look on his face was my pathfinder through the shadowy passageways to the prison chapel. Needless to say, I was quite dependent upon him and noticeably astonished that he had no weapon whatsoever. The meaning of vulnerability was taking on a whole new dimension for me. I discovered I could walk and pray at the same time!
My first scheduled stopover was a dormitory housing fifty prisoners in an open security area. Each cubical had three waist high walls in open sight to those officers securing the area. A space with a sense of property; home. They were mostly all still asleep with only a few shuffling about. A coffee aroma sweetened the otherwise rancid air. I surveyed the challenge that lay before me. It was my dubious blessing to go from bed to bed and tell them about Jesus while they were still asleep on a Saturday morning. I was permitted only two hours to circulate the room and then move on to the next clearance area, the hole. I felt like David when he first faced Goliath.
Two correctional officers with short clubs hanging from their belts greeted me with broad smiles. “So you’re the one that’s going in there to talk religion, are you?” The tall skinny one taunted. “Yes, I am,” I replied. “Well, let me remind you that you will be entering at your own risk and the waiver you signed releases us from any personal liability that may occur.” “I understand perfectly,” I replied nervously. I continued, “But let me ask you a very obvious question. What happens if I go in there and a serious problem should develop?” They both laughed out loud and when they regained their composure, the inconsiderate obese guard responded, “You see, it’s like this. We secure the gate from the outside and when the clamor dies down, we go in to see what happened and the medics tend to the injured! There are only two of us and neither of us wants to go home on a stretcher!”
My heart sank to my socks. I had imaginations of brutal beatings, gang rape, torture and maybe a violent death racing through my brain all at the same time. My body, not just my hands, but my whole body began to visibly tremble. I though of the fiery furnace, the den of lions, then dropped to my knees. They turned their heads as I cried out to the Lord. “Oh, Jesus, you got me into this and you’re going to have to get me out of this!”
After a moment of prayer, a peace flooded my soul and I knew it would be OK. I deliberately rose to my feet and clutching my well-worn Bible, I stepped through the open gate. The two CO’s didn’t say another word but the clank of the key and the squeaking of the hinges triggered my adrenaline. With a pounding heart, I walked into the dormitory and was greeted by a nerve shattering crash behind me as the steel gate slammed shut and was bolted!
At once my eyes were drawn to two powerfully build inmates that were quickly approaching me! Both topped six feet and I’m sure tipped the scales at a muscular 250 pounds each! One was black and the other white. I stopped breathing as they reached out for me!
“Praise the Lord! Glory! Hallelujah!,” the black convict bellowed as the other gave me a bone crushing bear hug and said, “You just stick with us and we’ll tell these clowns about Jesus together! And don’t worry. Nobody is going to mess with you unless they come through us first! You can take that to the bank.”
Jesus Himself had sent Gabriel and Michael to lift my arms. Over twenty first time decisions resulted from the three of us witnessing the Gospel according to Jesus.
Rick Mathes 