Thou Shalt . . .

I finished running the other afternoon and headed back from the track to sit on the benches outside our building door. It was a beautiful, crisp fall afternoon. While sitting there I saw another inmate jog back to the building. He stood on our basketball court and faced east. He then began to call, in an Arabic chant, his fellow Muslims to prayer. Within a minute or so five other inmates came to the court and they began their afternoon prayers. I bowed my head and prayed as well.



That evening and the night following, USA Today ran interesting stories on our ignorance about our own faith and our views on God. The troubling story: most Christians know little about Christianity and the Bible. Atheists, Muslims, Jews and Mormons know more Christian doctrine, than Protestants or Catholics (and Catholics, you guys score the lowest).


In the other piece, people’s views of God were placed in four different categories. Most Americans view God as either “critical” (i.e. passing judgment) or “benevolent” (loving, forgiving, helping).


As I thought about the discipline I see exhibited daily by the Muslim inmates, I began to consider both stories and my own faith experience while in here.


I was a poor Christian before my arrest. I grew up in a “church family”. We went every week; my folks still do. But, we never read the Bible. Candidly, I never read the Bible until I was locked up. Then, I read it cover to cover, highlighting and underlining verses and words, memorizing lines and parables, and psalms.


My wife and I went to church each Sunday. She taught Sunday school. We were both church elders. Our kids grew up in the church. I knew doctrine, but I didn’t know what it meant to have a real relationship with God.


Then, I got arrested and my life came crashing down. My church family abandoned me. My minister refused to visit me in jail (“I don’t want to get in the middle of their marital issues”); only three members ever wrote me, and my wife ignored her vows and Jesus’ teaching on divorce and ended our marriage.


In spite of all that, slowly I began to heal, find peace and joy. I realized how wrong I had been about so many things. I read and reread Psalms, Epistles, Gospels and I learned and believed.


I’m one of those who think God is benevolent. I believe we all fall short, we all fail, we all deserve condemnation. Yet, somehow God loves us anyway. He forgives us and if we just trust Him, He’ll see us through.


Having said that, I have a sobering thought for anyone who considers themselves a good Christian: it’s a whole lot tougher than just going to church.


The key, when all is said and done, is forgiveness. That doesn’t mean saying “I forgive you, but I’ll never forget”. No, it means forgiving and forgetting.


Jesus spoke over and over about forgiveness in the Gospel of Matthews. Words like this in chapter 6: “If you forgive, your Father in heaven will also forgive you . . . If you do not forgive, your Father will not forgive you”.


Or how about chapter 18 when Peter asks if he had to forgive someone seven times. Imagine his surprise when Jesus said “you must forgive seventy times seven” then makes the point with the parable about the unforgiving servant.


I still sit there stunned and in awe each time I read those passages. I realized I had no justifiable reason to be angry at anyone. I had made a mess out of my life. I hurt terribly the woman I loved and my two sons. Yet, I know I’ve been forgiven by my God. If I could be forgiven for what I did, how could I not do the same?


Back in August I had to decide whether I would file suit against my former employer. With two other “disgraced” lawyers, I fashioned a unique argument about their handling of my arrest and events leading up to it. I knew all the company “dirt”, the questionable financial activity, the “who’s sleeping with who”. The point of the suit was to be to bring heat on them. I finally told the guys I couldn’t do it. I let it go.


The saddest experience in my life has not been the arrest, conviction, and imprisonment. It was my wife divorcing me and telling me she no longer loved me. I never really got angry, but the hurt cut me deeply.


I’m still sad, always will be. But, I found a way to unload so much of the pain. Now, I only have those wonderful memories of our time together. Do I wish we were still together? Yes. Do I miss her? More than words can express. But, I’ll be OK. I’m at peace.


She was a wonderful companion. She is an amazing woman. In my heart, I will always love her. I can’t really worry about why she did what she did. She had her reasons.


In multiple places the Bible references God “setting the prisoners free”. Each of us, when we let anger, bitterness, and sorrow consume us are imprisoned.


We all could pay better attention to our faith. We all could be more forgiving, more loving, more kind. If we were, the prisons would be less filled, marriages stronger, families more stable and we’d all feel better.


Prison sucks, but I’m blessed. Perhaps that’s the key to all of this, to finding joy in any circumstance. And perhaps, if we realize God loves us, we can love and forgive those that hurt us and all be really free.