Grown Men Do Cry...

 It was 94 degrees on a Thursday afternoon, with no AC in my vehicle, as I was driving to Baker County, an hour away from home sweet home. I would be departing for 4 days, which included Father's Day weekend. The reason: to visit a bunch of inmates at the Baker Correctional Institution with the men from the Kairos Prison Ministry.

In all honesty, I had my share of doubts volunteering for this prison ministry. For once, when I attended the training, I realized that I was the youngest in my team. Most of them were gray-haired retirees. Being 33 would make that a compliment. But, not used to it. I even begged my friends to come and join. Knowing the Lord wanted me there, I just kept showing up.

So, as I kept driving on I-10 West, I really didn't know what to expect. I got to my hotel and into the front desk, where I rang the bell.

“Hold on a minute. I'm working on something here.” said a raspy voice.

“Sure,” I replied.

This tall woman appeared, with a serious look. “What do you need?”

“I need my room, please. Name is Mauricio Belgrano with the Kairos Prison team.”

“Oh. That's right.” She handed me a sheet. “Sign here for me.” I noticed another name under the same room number.

“I get to room with...John.”

“Yes. Need his key too?”

“No. I don't even know the man.” She gave me the concerned look. I continued with, “Well, if this man turns out to be a serial killer, then at least I'll be meeting Jesus this weekend.”

I made her smile. She gave me my key and I left to my room. The place was no Ritz Carlton or King David's Citadel in Jerusalem, where I'd stayed at before for business purposes. The bathroom smelled like mold. I kept smelling myself after showering in the bathroom, just to make sure it wasn't me. At least, the bed was quite cozy.

I received a phone call from the person, who was supposed to take me to the prison. He was running late, and couldn't take me there anymore. Great, I just took a cool shower! I have to get back into the mobile sauna, again. I was prepared with directions in case something like this happened.

When I got there, things just weren't going according to plan. The name tags weren't made. The leader didn't show up on time. They seemed to be under a lot of stress. I understood the pressure of running a ministry with people “volunteering”. I led one, myself. So, I offered to help with the name tags to ease their burden.

Things moved slowly through out the rest of the day until we met with the inmates. The Kairos men and I formed two lines, facing each other to welcome the inmates, as they entered the chapel with enthusiasm. That's right! Enthusiasm. They weren't begrudging, serious, bored, nor angry. They were...happy. They walked in peacefully, acting like...well, brothers in the Lord. They shook my hand and welcomed me with a hug. Then, we were divided into our table teams. There I was...sitting in front of 6 inmates: Willie (Will-I-Am), Rex (T-Rex), David (Cookie Monster), Ryan Word, Shelton, and Russell.

We put in about a 12-hr shift. By the time we got done, some of us went to eat at Ralph Klein's house, a rustic home found in the middle of the woods of Glenn St. Mary, where bears stroll around. Ralph was a 60+ year-old man, very jolly. He reminded me of a short, Santa Claus. The food was amazing! And, I got to know the men better. They were a funny mix. Sitting around the large, country-style table, I looked at their hairy ears, big noses, and balding heads. The whole scene reminded me of The Hobbit movie. We didn't get to our rooms until ten and I didn't get to bed to about midnight. The longest hours I slept one day was 6. My energy level was not the best, but I kept pressing forward.

We spent most of the time learning from each of the table leaders. My table leader was a very loud, yet kind-heart man, named Jim Corbett. You can assume that he's been in the military by his assertive attitude and firmness in leading the pack. He was quite encouraging. He told me how I was very good at engaging conversation with the boys, and making them feel comfortable. With all the crazy dancing during worship, mocking the old Bishop, who reminded us of the old man in Pixar's “Up”, and my surfer “Californians” impersonations, I just wonder why they would?!

“Just keep in mind to lead by example. They will follow your lead. Not sure if you are doing this, but don't get up during the sessions, unless you really need to go.” he said.

“I really did needed to go...all 29 times.” Of course, he laughed. I...was serious.

The food in prison was repulsive. Everyone dreaded to go to lunch and dinner. The place we ate in smelled like a wet mop that swept over the dirtiest part of the NYC sewer system. It was hot and humid there, making the smell five times worse. But, because the inmates thought it to be an honor to “break bread” with us, we did it. That had to be agape love. Seriously. The only tasty things were the fruit and vegetables. The rest of the food looked like processed roadkill-to-go. It's edible, but without seasoning. So, when Saturday came, and we surprised the inmates with BBQ meals, they were excited...so was I. After eating a lot of cookies that the ministry provided and giving us constipation, it was time for a dietary change. David devoured most of our cookies on the table (hence: the nickname, Cookie Monster).

“You know how certain smells trigger your memory?” asked T-Rex. We all nodded our heads nibbling on bones. “From now on, when I'm eating BBQ, this is what I will remember. Agape Love, that the men of Kairos showed me.” I just stared at him, really thinking about what he said. Really, think about it. One common meal just impacted someone for as long as he lives.

Then, came time to share the letters. It was time for all the volunteers to exit the room.

I asked myself, “Why?” They just wanted to give them privacy. In case they needed to cry. I sneaked back in to see what was going on.

One of the leaders stopped me, “Get back over there.”

“Just making sure this wasn't a FEMA camp... That's all.”

When we gathered together again, they were of few words. So, I thought to myself, “The letters were a bit too much!” Who was I kidding? Near the end of the retreat, the men had the opportunity to share comments in front of the podium after receiving their certificate for attending the retreat. The guys in my team, St. Stephen, went up and talked, followed by the rest of the men. Most had tears running down their eyes. As I turned around to look at everyone in the audience, I ran across more tears. They praised everything we did for them, from the cookies, the BBQ, and, even, the letters. Yes, the letters. Most of the volunteers brought their families to experience the transformation that the Lord had made on that weekend. With 70% of men in prison without a father, it was no wonder these men felt the power of affirming from the Kairos men, young or old. The Lord led me to encourage the two younger guys, Rex and Willie. I walked up to them, and I said, “I'm so proud of you, guys.” We shook hands and gave a hug. They asked me if I would be back at the follow up weekend. I gave them the polite Christian answer, “I'll pray about it.” I then laughed and told them that I would. So, I'm keeping my word. I will be back in a couple of weeks.

Sometimes, it does take sacrifice to be the hands and feet of Jesus. Nevertheless, as I began to set foot outside of Baker Correctional, I looked back at the men and saw no difference between us, except for the blue uniforms they wore. We all laughed...we all learn. We all carried secrets to confess. As I looked forward, I saw the men at Kairos, getting into their vehicles.Most of them were fathers, giving of their time, energy, finances, and talent. Definitely, a sacrifice that if most Christians did, would impact this city in its entirety. I challenge you to make that sacrifice. 

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