An unusUal audiEnCe by Roy A. Borges
My church is not an ordinary church. If you‘ve
never been to a prison chapel to hear the inmates
testify and sing about God’s amazing grace,
you’re missing something. Many volunteers
have told me they came to give but left having
received. They came thinking they knew a lot
about God’s grace but left knowing they had
learned a lot more.
Sixteen choir members stand on the stage
and sing as the men walk in and take their seats
in the pews. Black, white, Native American, and
Hispanic men get ready to honor God. It’s an
unusual audience.
The building is officially called the Religion
Department because a variety of religious groups
meet there. That’s the reason the cross is not
displayed. No one wants to offend anyone of a
different faith.
Even so, every Sunday evening, the
enthusiastic response of an unusual audience
tells me the cross may offend some, but Christ
convicts and saves. Because of this, murderers,
sex offenders, thugs, thieves, and other convicted
felons worship and praise God. Men whom
society has labeled losers turn to the Savior and
become winners.
The thrill of witnessing God rescue lives never
wanes. Every time I see this transforming event,
it amazes me. Isn’t it just like the Lord to choose
“the foolish things of the world to confound the
wise”? (1 Corinthians 1:27 KJV).
My job as a chapel clerk gives me a unique
perspective. I get to see the Lord invite men
whom the world has rejected to commit their
lives to following Him. They learn to forgive
those who‘ve trespassed against them. They
learn that the problem is not the color of their
skin, but their sin. Their weaknesses become
their strengths, and those who lose their lives for
Christ, save them.
12 kojministries.org Issue 4 2017
Prison life is mundane and depressing. The
inmates have little to give their lives meaning and
purpose. Anger and bitterness are prevalent; love
and kindness are rare. The strong prey on the
weak. They say Christianity is a crutch. The cross
offends because their egos tell them they don’t
need anyone—not even God.
Nevertheless, when Christ comes into their
lives, these people are different. God changes
them. The wolves turn into sheep. They rely
on the Shepherd to guide them. They react
differently to tragedy. Only those who realize the
depth of their sin can appreciate the complete
forgiveness God offers, and those who are
forgiven much, love much.
One Father’s Day, I gave my testimony. I
had prepared all week for what I was going to
say. I had only five minutes, and I wanted to say
something meaningful. One hundred ten men
showed up for that Sunday evening service. I
knew most of them. I knew I couldn’t fool them.
I had to be real. Tom and Paul, two other chapel
clerks, helped me pray about it.
The cordless mic stuck out of my front pocket
as I sat waiting. The choir sang a couple of songs,
and then the choir leader introduced me. “Is
this on?” I spoke into the mic from behind the
podium. My voice blasted through the speakers.
“Happy Father’s Day, everyone,” I greeted
them. “I heard today that Bill Glass, who used
to play with the Dallas Cowboys and now runs
a prison ministry, said that after interviewing
thousands of prisoners around the country, he
believed most of them hated their fathers or had
bad relationships with them. He claims this led
many to rebel against authority.”
At this point I stopped talking and just stared
down at the mic. I couldn’t remember what I had
so diligently prepared to say. My mind was blank.
I just stood there.
Finally I said, “My father was a tough guy.” I
hadn’t planned to say that, and from that point
on, I don’t remember exactly what I said. But I
began to pour out my heart about my father and
how I’d wanted to be like him.
“I wanted to prove to him and to myself that
I was just as tough as he was. But when he died
in 1989, I realized what I’d really hungered for
was his love. What would fill that hunger now?
My search led me to God. For the first time in my
life, I saw myself for the wretch I was, and I asked
God to forgive me. I cried—something I thought
tough guys never did. I gave my life to Jesus
Christ, and nothing has been the same since. I
quit trying to be something I’m not and started
becoming the man God wanted me to be.”
No oNe hAs eVer EscaPed
From thiS prIson. yeT evEry
SundAy, Men Are Set Free.
Fred, my running partner, sat up front
with tears in his eyes. A big smile on his face
encouraged me to say more. “Living the
Christian life is like running,” I told them. “It takes
discipline and endurance for Fred and me to run
every day. It takes discipline and endurance to
live the Christian life. Keeping my eyes focused
on Jesus is hard work. Giving up what endangers
my relationship with God doesn’t come easy. I
stumble when I stare at myself, but when I keep
my eyes on Him, I change. When I look at Him, I
become a better person—one God can use.”
I finished by telling them to go be lights to
the men on the compound. To my amazement,
many of those tough guys in the audience were
wiping their eyes. So were the outside visitors. I
had to wipe mine too.
Prison changed my priorities. Like a person
on a deathbed, I suddenly saw things differently.
My expectations changed. My sins have
consequences I can’t control, but I can be a light
in the darkness.
continued on page 15
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