Asking
the wrong question. Look instead for what God can do. The words have rolled
around my brain for a few weeks. It was with those words in mind that I thought
about a response to comments from “Anonymous” on May 3 (see Waiting blog). It
struck me funny because the tight knit group of young men in here, who follow
what I write and why I write it, had a definite opinion of what my response
should be and it was different than what I thought. I told one young guy in
particular – who urged me to go forward “with a vengeance” – that you have to
step back and see the big picture.
It
really comes down to three P’s: Paul, Punishment, and Perseverance.
People
think they understand another’s circumstances completely and they know exactly
the proper response for any situation and they are sure they would do “the
right thing.” It’s human nature really. We see our neighbor’s failures,
foibles, and weaknesses, and know we wouldn’t do that. Worse, we decide in the
rightness of ourselves and therefore lack empathy for those who stray. “Break
the law you’re going to be punished.” Simple words, yet wrong.
I
spend a good deal of time reading Paul’s letters to the various small,
struggling churches around Asia Minor. I’m amazed at his transformation from
law enforcer to grace proclaimer. And, I can’t get over the fact that this man,
with the blood of innocents on his hands, was the primary catalyst for the
growth of Christianity beyond the relatively small, sect-like following of its
post-resurrection numbers.
Paul
was a bright, well-off man of the community. He knew the law and understood
that it had to be enforced. Go outside its terms and be punished. His was a
simple, cause-effect view. And then he came face to face with God and realized
it wasn’t law that propelled us forward, but grace, God’s unfathomable mercy
and love that no one deserves, yet gets. Irony of ironies (to me anyway) Paul
carried that message of reconciliation, forgiveness, hope, and love all from
prison. And, he never shied away from what he had been. He freely admitted his
past.
To
the writer of the blog posting I simply say everything you write about my past
is true. We could argue technical terms, and I could present a strong defense
justifying my behavior. (Then again, I don’t think you are interested in the
whole story.) But the fact is, I stole. Fact is, I knew what I was doing was
wrong; knew I’d get caught, knew I’d probably lose everything. I don’t shy away
from my past sins or “the whys.” Like the story of the blind man, however, I
think you are asking the wrong question.
Then
there’s “punishment.” Let’s make sure we understand, I don’t think there is no
place for prison. Prison can be a useful tool. But, I did have to laugh at the
naïveté of the writer who said, in effect they’d conducted an informal survey
of friends and acquaintances and “there is a strong consensus what prison is
like.” No there isn’t. Until you experience it, you don’t have a clue.
And
that’s not really the point. I write about the failures of prison because they
are so painfully obvious. Forget the philosophical argument (should society, in
the name of justice, allow barbaric, cruel inhumane treatment to enforce
judgments?), as a practical matter prisons fail. Fact: two of three released
inmates return to prison within three years (so much for deterrent effect!); Fact:
incarcerating non-violent, low custody offenders leads to worse criminal
behavior in the future; Fact: it is expensive and not cost-effective.
There
is a reason conservative Republican politicians are jumping on the band wagon
of prison reform. It is the elephant (no pun intended!) in the room when you
discuss failed government.
Now,
if your goal is purely and simply retribution, then prisons are great. They
destroy lives, tear families apart, lead to generational and community distress;
make people bitter – both inside and outside the walls. Prison creates an
attitude that seeks to deny responsibility for one’s actions.
The
problem with prison is it leads to more problems than it solves. Over 90% of
all the incarcerated will return to society. How they leave this place is
largely determined by the treatment they receive while in here, the support
from family and friends on release, and education and job skills they possess.
Abuse a man – or woman – in prison and you risk spending millions over the
course of that felon’s life on additional prison terms and resulting costs on
welfare, drug treatment, and more.
This
is neither a left or a right issue. Conservative politicians use catch-all
phrases like “tough on crime” with a one size fits all (“lock em up and throw
away the key”) approach. Liberals become apologists for bad behavior excusing
gang violence, drug dealing, and other crimes blaming irresponsible behavior on
a racist society.
The
truth is, prison is expensive, ineffective, and – with the exception of the
extremely violent and sociopathic inmates does more harm than good. Prison
lacks morality. It is not effective punishment. It is primitive, purposeless,
and poisons society’s core values.
Finally,
perseverance. I’ve done a fair number of stupid things in my life. Even though
I never, however, did anything with the intention of hurting anyone, I broke
the law and accepted (contrary to what the writer said) with no question, my
punishment. Easy? No. Suffering? Neither the writer, nor family and friends,
know the extent of what I’ve been through (which also caused me to smile when
my anonymous poster told me to “suffer in silence.”) I have been blessed in the
experience and believe there in a purpose and a reason for it. If nothing else,
I write to put real flesh and blood on a group of people long neglected: the
imprisoned.
There
is a reason the Psalms, the Old Testaments Prophets, and even Jesus refer over
and over to the plight of the “prisoners.” And before I’m told those
“prisoners” are a metaphor for someone other than a lawbreaker, remember Paul’s
admonition about the law: all fall short.
People
have the capacity for great good and great evil. I have witnessed incredible
acts of kindness by men whom most readers (like my anonymous poster) would
label beyond redemption. At the same time, I have seen “good, law-abiding”
friends and family show unforgiveness and lack mercy and empathy to an extent
usually reserved for your worst enemy.
I
began with a story about Jesus and the blind man and asking the wrong question
instead of looking at what God can do. It isn’t a physical deficiency that
holds us back; it is the hardness of our spirit. The greatest gift I’ve
received in this trial is seeing the world through opened, “freed” if you
would, eyes. That’s why I’m able to smile when I read the anonymous poster’s
response and why I look forward to exchanging personal correspondence with the
writer.
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