Which Way Did They Go?

Capturing the emotion of a moment is perhaps the greatest challenge of any writer. The ability to put into words what races through one's entire mind and body in a particular moment is, in my mind, paramount to successful writing. Today I hope to convey such a moment. My present construction project is at a prison here in Nevada. Certainly not a wonderful place for any who are onsite, though the free men get to leave when their shift is done. Casual observations of prison life, from the outside, have turned into a sort of fascination. An odyssey of sorts. A quest of questions. Why, how, who are all queries I have pondered as well as asked my escorts. Different castes, good guys and bad guys. Good guys making bad momentary decisions. Anger, hatred, drunkenness. Any number of reasons taking a man from the realm of the free to the realm of the incarcerated. It has seemed to me that if you took a snapshot of the men in the yard and could erase the backdrop of the prison, you could easily drop them into a park or a ball field or downtown and they would fit. I'm sure there may be a demoniac or two among them, but for the most part they look just like you and me. Fascinating and perplexing at the same time. Entering the work area through a series of sally ports takes you past the inmate processing station. As we passed by this area yesterday I noticed about a dozen duffel bags and some other items. I asked my escort if they were coming or going. His answer was a simple, "Going." That's when my emotions went into a sort of frenzy. It's hard to describe but it was sort of like goose bumps and panic and joy and, and, and... I was at once happy for them and very concerned. When they walked through that gate they would breathe the same air, but now it would be as free men. But where would they go? Would they go home to their families? Did they even still have families? Would they go to a bar and start the tragic cycle all over? Would they go to church? Did they pray to Jesus while incarcerated for freedom? Would they make good on the promises they made Him? Mostly what I felt was a sense of helplessness. I didn't know any of them, yet I wanted to help all of them. I wanted to point them in the direction of the cross of Calvary. To a Savior who could make them truly free. I wanted to help integrate them back into society, to be there to answer their questions and encourage them when the inevitable struggles appear. I wanted them to make the right decision, and yes, I feel that a life in Christ is the right decision. I simply prayed that somehow one or more of them might appear at our church and say that Jesus directed them here so they could make good on their end of the bargain. And so I sit here at my keyboard trying to convince us that they are worth the effort. We've all made mistakes. We've all come short of the glory of God. At this moment I refuse to assign degrees. I'm not going to categorize them into murderers here and drug addicts there. No, for right now I want us to see them as Jesus sees them. Souls needing His saving grace. Men needing a new life. Washing the old life away in baptism in His name, and starting a new life filled with His precious Spirit. You know, that Acts 2:38 thing that is so pivotal to a true life in Jesus! I can only wonder. Which way will they go?