It
was a brutal world where every man had a blade hidden for protection, where
extortion and rape were daily occurrences; and where the officers had little
control over the lives of the inmates. Ironically, that’s still the way prison
is. By the time guys get here from the higher levels, where they walked through
the mine fields and either were victim or victimizer, they can see home and
aren’t willing to tack on more time to their sentence. Give a twenty year old
thirty years and he can’t comprehend it. What’s he do? He fights, he steals, he
does whatever he has to do to make a name for himself and protect himself.
But,
ten years in and now he’s thirty and his girlfriend has stopped writing.
Friends have moved on. He has little left outside and he realizes all the time
he’s done so far only accounts for a third of what he must do. The realization
sets in that he may never get out. Most go to “the code.” They see nothing;
they say nothing; they do nothing. And, like the stranded boys alone on the
island in “Lord of the Flies,” tribalism and Darwinian observation like the
strong preying on the weak, become the inmate’s daily existence. It’s all about
survival. Nothing more, nothing less.
I’ve
been thinking about “the code” a good bit during Lent. Every morning during
this Lenten season I take a three by five index card and jot down a meaningful
verse or two from my morning reading. Throughout the day, I’ll refer back to
the card to focus on what I consider the important thought of the day. Every
verse I jot down is contrary to “the code.” How we live in here, how we conduct
our lives in here is contrary to what God expects. But, here’s the irony – so
is the way I lived “BP” (before prison). I keep coming back to the Proverb: the
wisdom of man is foolishness to God.
What
does all this have to do with “the code?” I find myself going against the
grain. I’m being pulled two directions most times. My eyes tell me the vast
majority of men I’m locked up with are full of malice. They feel victimized;
they lack empathy. Ignorance flourishes in here. Each day I try and fight the
urge to berate someone for being disrespectful, dishonest, or just not caring
enough about themselves or their loved ones to get right. Simply put, almost
every day I find myself thinking, “I hate this place and the men in here.”
But
then, there is the other side, the side that tells me to empathize and be
compassionate toward even the worst. Call it an attempt to atone for my own
misjudgments, but I try and see the good in all. So, I butt in when the code
says “butt out.” I tell guys what I think even when I’m warned over and over to
keep my opinions to myself. Under “the code,” truth is a casualty.
Why
am I writing this? I don’t really know. I’ve had a few weeks of confrontations
that have only emboldened me. One of cards I carry has the words from Isaiah
40:10-13 on it. It is one of the most moving pieces of scripture I know. It
says:
“Do
not fear, for I am with you.
Do
not anxiously look about you, for I am your God.
I
will strengthen you, surely I will help you;
Surely
I will uphold you …
Those
who war with you will be as nothing and non-existent.
For
I am your God, Who upholds your right hand,
Who
says to you, Do not fear, I will help you.”
Here’s
what I take that to mean. You do the right thing and you know God will have
your back. There is no “code” above His. Too often men in here do the expedient
thing to get by. Too often out there, the same thing is done. It’s a pretty
radical idea, but it’s one I’m trying. Too many men fail in here. Too many fail
out there. There has to be a better way
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