Update: A Prison Visit, at Last

Yesterday, God granted me success in seeing my imprisoned friend.

He is doing well, away from the issues that claw at his heart and destroy his body. He looks good. He is his "old self," which is his new self in Christ.

He hopes to get out. I don't see that happening. He has not quite come to terms with the magnitude of what is facing him.

In the meanwhile, he has joy in Christ and is ministering to others, studying the Word with them and encouraging them. I have no doubt he will do this even if he never again sees the light of day.

Visiting the prison is interesting. As I was leaving, they were pulling a sad man out of the detox/holding room not 3 feet away. A foreboding deputy had found some sort of drug in the parking lot outside the prison. An older white biker-type was being frisked and his worldly possessions cataloged. I stood there with my friend, unacknowledged, waiting for him to be taken back, watching the sad panorama of lives unfold around me. There are stone-faced prison personnel who visages bereft of human kindness --perhaps the defense mechanism that comes from any small show of compassion being exploited, there are those still in the thrall of addiction, whose minds have been forever altered by the damage of drugs. It all looks like the sad wreckage of humanity.

Perhaps saddest of all is that, due to overcrowding, all Christian services have ceased, at least for now. I pray that won't continue. There are men and women in our prisons who are ripe for Christ. Pray that we can bring him to them.

More Prison Sadness and a Note of Hope

I received another letter from my friend in prison today. The third letter. I have written him three times. His letter indicates he has not heard from me or anyone else. He must be in despair. I don't know what to do but to pray. I am going to call the warden tomorrow, but I doubt he will be able to tell me anything.

Pray for my friend.

The note of hope is that some people get this. Prison reform is hard, but it can happen. Ohio is an example. May Chuck Colson be granted an extraordinarily long life --I just don't see many other Christians doing this sort of work: http://www.breakpoint.org/bpcommentaries/entry/13/18186

Oh, and just an update. My last post was prophetic. I drove to the jail at the appointed time --and was turned away at the door. I will, DV, try again early this week.

The Forgotten Man

I have a friend and congregant in jail. Why he is there is really immaterial, but let's just say it is not due to any official injustice. He and I had become very close when life was going well for him and then, when things fell apart, I did not know where he was. I would hear reports from those who had seen him, and the reports were not good. So I must confess I was a bit relieved to hear he was in a place where, while certainly not desirable, he would be clothed, fed, housed, get his insulin and be away from the demons he could not seem to escape.

Prisons are not pleasant places to visit. I have been to three, each of them quite different. We do not expect prisons to be pleasant. Yet, I wish they were better than they are, for a multitude of reasons. Not only this, but prisons are not easy places to visit. If you go to see a shut-in or a sick member in the hospital, by and large, you pick your time, or you arrange a time, and you go. A prison is the luck of the draw. You drive there. Some prisons allow you to arrange a time, but there is no guarantee you can actually the person at that time. If someone else is using the visiting room, you may be out of luck (and about 2 hours of your time, without having made a visit).

It was Charles Colson who opened my eyes to the horrible reality of imprisonment. We are "law and order" people. We want those who commit offenses to serve their time. Christians, other than Prison Fellowship, have not given much thought to what ought, and ought not, occur behind bars. We allow prisoners to be dehumanized --and wonder why animals are released. Prison Fellowship has had good success with rehabilitation --except where the courts have shut them down for being too "Christian," not realizing that the gospel is at the heart of why they are successful.

To me, it should not be hard for society to provide a decent prison environment --one that made a productive use of time, that was safe, where a man could earn his keep, and improve his mind. It should not be like a murderous cattle pen, where the strong can prey on the weak, and the murder and rape are ever-present fears. Decency demands this. These are men and women made in God's image --marred by sin and candidates for redemption. They ought to be treated with basic dignity and afforded basic protections and basic joys.

I have yet to see my friend. The jail was busy, you see. I could not go when I needed to go. I must wait till tomorrow. At 3 pm. To see a man with nothing but time on his hands. Even then, this is not an appointment but a hope. I will drive an hour round-trip on this hope, as I have before, and hope I am not disappointed in my effort to see him. If this is frustrating for me, what must it be for my friend? What is more, he can only be visited by his pastor and immediate family, and then only for twenty minutes, once a month. The man's family wants nothing to do with him. The church is his family, but he is beyond most of our reach.

My friend tells me that the man who has been behind bars for years is a broken man. He is not defiant like the young offenders. He has lost hope. He is ripe to hear the gospel --but it is hard to get the gospel to him. The system and its byzantine rules (and they are staggering) makes it very hard. My friend tells me the man who comes to the prison to do services has no gospel at all --all condemnation and no grace. All of this makes me very sad.

Prisoners, like the unborn, are out of sight and out of mind for most people. They are men and women. They have done wrong and been caught. They are paying a debt of sorts. Some of them are dangerous and never need to be let out. Some of them are self-destructive and need to be kept away from the substances that enslave them. Most of them are like looking in the mirror.

I hope someday, perhaps, to have a part in prison ministry. Until then, let's not forget the forgotten men and women behind bars in this country. Let's figure out the ways to get Christ to them.

Remembering a Friend

I have thought for awhile that, since many of my chief influencers in ministry are older, I was in for some painful goodbyes in the coming days. Today, God called my friend and former senior pastor Cortez Cooper to be with himself. Corty was eighty years old, and always the portrait of robust health. He modeled that stanza in "How Firm a Foundation,"

E'en down to old age all your people shall prove,

Your sovereign, eternal unchangeable love.

Corty was a modest man, not given to talk much about himself, but every once in awhile, you'd find out interesting tidbits about him. Ronald Reagan used to come hear him preach during his days as pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Nashville. God used him to bring NASCAR legend Daryl Waltrip to faith, and Corty is the reason Daryl began to drive for Tide. He had pastored First Nashville for ten years. The declining fidelity of the Southern Presbyterian Church, and its impending merger with the far more liberal and larger PCUSA led the church to vote as to whether or not to leave. Though the congregation voted in the majority to leave the old denomination, the session (at Corty's suggestion) had insisted on a super-majority, which they did not give.

Corty resigned, and went to plant a church. First Church wanted to provide finances, and Corty refused their offer. He and several hundred (out of a church of several thousand) went and started Christ Presbyterian, which grew huge under his leadership.

Yet, for all of this, the size of a church mattered not at all to Corty. We first met Corty when I interviewed to become his assistant pastor at Draper's Valley Presbyterian in rural Southwestern Virginia. His wife, Pat, had deep roots in that church. Her father, Preston Sartelle, Sr., and her brother, Preston, Jr., had been pastors of the church. Corty retired from his position as coordinator for Mission to North America. He and Pat now occupied full-time the lovely antebellum home they had purchased while he worked in Atlanta.

When we visited, the Coopers insisted that we stay with them. At first, it might seem strange to spend several days living with the man who was evaluating you for a position, but he and his wife literally met us at the car door, hugging us both. We felt at home immediately.

Corty was planning to retire (again). He wanted a faithful assistant that might succeed him as the pastor of Draper's Valley. This is, in fact, what happened. Though he and I were wired very differently, there was never a moment's friction between us. We went through some very rough times together. He was like a patient grandfather, and I learned a lot from him about how to be a pastor.

His wife, Pat, was a true mentor to my wife. She was strong, and very firm in her opinions, and yet modeled a quiet graciousness. She did not speak much, but when she did, she could cut through a fog of opinion with a simple, poignant question. She was a true help meet to her husband. She is a model of comfortable hospitality --she taught my wife that the house did not need to be perfect in order for it to be welcoming (though hers was both!). She often told the story of phoning her pastor-father from Davidson College saying, "Daddy, I met a boy, but he's a Baptist!!" Well, in God's good providence, he did not stay a Baptist. She is very much in our thoughts today. It is hard for us to think about Pat without Corty, so joined were they.

That said, it would be impossible to measure up for him. He had such a zest for life and a zest for people. He could make you feel loved and at home in an instant --he was a people magnet. When Corty retired and the church called me, he immediately began a string of interim pastorates so that he would be "out of the way" (though I always wished he had stayed "in the way!" We missed them terribly when they left). He served churches in transition. Some of these churches were very small. One was a remnant group of just a few dozen. Others were some of the leading churches of our denomination (Kirk of the Hills St. Louis and Chapelgate Baltimore). He was still doing this when he died.

God brings people like this into our lives as a precious, fragile gift. I do not have a whole host of friends, but the friends I do have are deep wells. I praise God for the elder brothers he has given me along the journey. Part of friendship is pain --deep grief when a friend is called to glory. I lost a friend my age a few years ago --that was painful. I have now lost a friend 40 years my senior --this is painful too. Lord, in your grace let me be just a little like my friend Corty Cooper.

The Power of a Living Voice

We had an incredible time on Broadway. Ever since I can remember, I have been a huge fan of the live theater. For a small city, Grand Rapids had a fairly live theater scene, and I was privileged, growing up, to see quite a few shows. Since then, Pittsburgh and its grand theaters have filled the bill on our visits there.

Though I had been to Broadway once before (in its seedy days), I had never gotten to see a show. Through the generosity of some friends, we were able to see not just one show, but three. It was an awesome experience. At one, somehow I managed to get front-row center seats --nothing quite like that. At another, I got to be in the same room with Brooke Shields --Brooke Shields! The third was a lark --we had finished dinner on Monday night, and decided to go to the TKTS booth to see what was available. Most shows are dark on Monday, and we got there about 7:35 (most curtains are at 8). Nonetheless, at that time, the tickets are cheap, and the seats were grand --just one look and I can hear a bell ring, one more look and I forget everything... Pretty fun show.

What is it about live performance that makes it so compelling? Yes, movies can be awesome and profound, but there is something magical about live actors on the stage. Actors develop a dynamic between them and their audience, something that is missing from a screen (and perhaps in acting in front of a camera). Feedback is instantaneous. There is laughter and applause. There is a sense that they are with you or they aren't.

Some have hypothesized that the great revivalist orator George Whitefield was a frustrated actor. There are some similarities between acting and preaching --the great allure of being the center of attention of a crowd. The feeling can be very much like this:

The costumes, the scenery, the makeup, the props
The audience that lifts you when you're down
The headaches, the heartaches, the backaches, the flops
The sheriff who escorts you out of town
The opening when your heart beats like a drum
The closing when the customers won't come...

There is a drama to good preaching, to be sure, and preachers are human and like some measure of notice and acclaim --though of course we shouldn't be in preaching for notice or acclaim.

God puts his word on a printed page for a reason --so it might be a fixed verity, a point of truth, a standard, like the official weights and measures kept under lock and key by the government so they will not be altered.

But, he gives his word a living human voice, in part because he wired us to find this compelling. Ours is not a day of great orators. There are no Bryans on the Platte or FDRs or Churchills on the wireless. Still and all, we love a living voice. Like Nipper sitting on the coffin listening to the phonograph, we recognize our master's voice. "My sheep know my voice and they follow me...another they will not follow."

God spoke through the prophets, and through his son. Now, he speaks through fallible, human spokesmen who are faithful to his word, who can embrace and be embraced, who bleed, who empathize, who fail and make mistakes just like their hearers. On the one hand, it seems so very foolish (1 Cor 1) --but on the other hand, it seems so very wise.

Let's Try This Again --NYC living redux.

As we wandered around New York over those four glorious days, I pondered a bit what New York must be like for New Yorkers --not those going from one site to another, but rather those who spend their workaday lives there. We saw New York from the Circle Line boat (a fascinating tour, even though Irene kept us from circumnavigating the island), and from the Top of the Rock (with 8000 of our closest friends). But, what about the person who drops into a hole in the ground a few blocks from his apartment, and emerges a few blocks from his office, day in and day out, in blowing snow and soaking rain?

Our view of New York is one of a holiday weekend, with lovely weather, and diminished busyness (except, of course, for Times Square). Is New York as fascinating for New Yorkers as it is for out-of-towners? Is it as fun in January as September?

I have never lived in a big city, though I love them. I have remarked often to my wife that, if we lived in Pittsburgh, I would go to the Strip District (a wholesale multi-ethnic food extravaganza) every week to buy my groceries at the Italian grocers. But would I really? Wouldn't I just go to the local corner supermarket and the big box retailer? It’s hard to say. Big cities are fun places to visit, but then again, I don’t have the three hour round-trip commute our boat tour guide has.

I think I would like to try living in a big city someday. The mix of ethnicities, the wonderful food, the atmosphere of life, the arts scene, the neighborhood feel would be all very enjoyable. If I never get to do that in this life, I know that I shall in the next. One of the great comforts for me about Heaven is knowing that the believer will never miss out. If I don’t make it to Salzburg or St. Petersburg or Paris in this life, I know that what awaits me is far more glorious. If I never complete my bucket list of places to visit and experiences to have, I will have an eternity of endless fascination to enjoy. I long for that day.

What Would It Be Like to Live in NYC?

As we wandered around New York over those four glorious days, I pondered a bit what New York must be like for New Yorkers --not those going from one site to another, but rather those who spend their workaday lives there. We saw New York from the Circle Line boat (a fascinating tour, even though Irene kept us from circumnavigating the island), and from the Top of the Rock (with 8000 of our closest friends). But, what about the person who drops into a hole in the ground a few blocks from his apartment, and emerges a few blocks from his office, day in and day out, in blowing snow and soaking rain?

Our view of New York is one of tourists on a holiday weekend, with lovely weather, and diminished busyness (except, of course, for Times Square). Is New York as fascinating for New Yorkers as it is for out-of-towners? Is it as fun in January as September?

I have never lived in a big city, though I love them. I have remarked often to my wife that, if we lived in Pittsburgh, I would go to the Strip District (a wholesale multi-ethnic food extravaganza) every week to buy my groceries at the Italian grocers. But would I really? Wouldn't I just go to the local corner supermarket and the big box retailer? It’s hard to say. Big cities are fun places to visit, but then again, I don’t have the three hour round-trip commute our boat tour guide has.
I think I would like to try living in a big city someday. The mix of ethnicities, the wonderful food, the atmosphere of life, the arts scene, the neighborhood feel would be all very enjoyable. If I never get to do that in this life, I know that I shall in the next. One of the great comforts for me about Heaven is knowing that the believer will never miss out. If I don’t make it to Salzburg or St. Petersburg or Paris in this life, I know that what awaits me is far more glorious. If I never complete my bucket list of places to visit and experiences to have, I will have an eternity of endless fascination to enjoy. I long for that day.