2014-02-25    Ron W. Nikkel  (Prison Fellowship International)

 
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Good News - Bad Places

 
A feeling of discouragement clung to me like a shadow that wouldn’t go away.  I was halfway through my first visit to the prisons of Latin America and was overwhelmed by the dreadful specter of futility; I could not get the sights and sounds and smells of human agony out of my mind.  Pursued by “bad news” in the stories and tears of imprisoned men and women I found it impossible to sleep.  What could I have possibly said or done to give a sense of comfort to the anguished, or relief to the exploited and tormented, and hope to those who were deprived of freedom - suffocating under the despair and futility of their situation?
 
If I had not seen such imprisonment or spoken with the prisoners or encountered the dreadful specter of inhumanity and injustice that was being condoned in the name of law and order I would not have believed it.  And I would have continued to believe that prisoners are guilty persons who simply need to hear the good news of the gospel to get their lives turned around.  However, the simple and comfortable answers of my faith felt feeble and anemic behind the oppressive walls and in the putrid over-crowded cells of suffering people.  This really bothered me as I struggled to find a way of making my faith in Jesus Christ as Saviour of the world relevant to the men and women I was meeting with in such awful places.  I could not merely leave them in their “pits of hell” with hollow platitudes and promises.  It was 1983 and both they and I needed more than that.
 
What is the good news of Jesus for thousands of impoverished young Peruvian men who were packed like sardines into Lurigancho and San Jorge prisons?
 
What is the good news of Jesus for young women from so many countries who were duped into carrying drugs by people they trusted, only to be “busted” far away from home?
 
What is the good news of Jesus for imprisoned peasant fighters of El Salvador who were only seeking liberty and justice from the ruthless military rulers who had massacred entire villages and even killed Oscar Romero their beloved Archbishop?
 
What is the good news of Jesus for the suffering men and women in Guatemala’s prisons who had hoped that Rios Montt, their “Christian” president would be more humane and fair than those he overthrew?
 
What is the good news of Jesus for those in the dreadfully congested old prison of Belize who were living daily under the macabre shadow of the gallows?
 
What is the good news of Jesus for women in Colombia’s overcrowded Buen Pastor (Good Shepherd) prison when many of them were imprisoned as victims of abuse and violence?
 
Whether are criminally guilty or not – what on earth is the good news of Jesus for a man or woman who is nakedly stripped of power, dignity, freedom, family, and often even self respect?
 
A year before meeting with these prisoners in Latin America the question of good news would have been rather academic – of course the good news for all people everywhere and in every circumstance is Jesus Christ, the Savior and Redeemer of the world.  But in meeting with them I was beginning to understand that there was more to their lives than crime and punishment - or even crime at all.  I desperately wanted my faith in Jesus to become relevant to them in the midst of their circumstances and so I searched for just the right words by which to convey the good news of Jesus, of God’s love to them.  But as hard as I tried, my words invariably seemed so inadequate and often felt cheap, easy, and pathetically disconnected from the immediate misery and torment that circumscribed their lives.  It was as if they had no ears to hear me.
 
There was and is still no doubt in my mind that the good news of Jesus Christ as being the embodiment of God’s love and mercy for all of humankind is true. Yet in sharing that good news in places where people were inundated by all that was bad my carefully chosen words seemed to bounce off the cold walls and iron bars like distorted echoes.  At the same time I was having significant deep conversations with individual prisoners whenever I stopped to ask about their lives and families and to listen to their stories.  We seemed to connect in a way that was more real and meaningful than when I was trying to help them by sharing the good news of God’s love in Jesus as the real answer to their fears and troubles and their “guilt.” 
 
So at the end I basically gave up trying to tell them the good news and just continued having conversations.  By the time those prison visits were completed I knew that the time I spent with the inmates meant far more to them than my words.  It was a matter of being there, my presence along with my colleagues was good news for the prisoners – good news that they were not forgotten, good news that someone cared about them.  Our visits were like a harbinger of hope – a ray of light breaking through the dreary drudge of their circumstances.  And in this I came to see in a new way the significance of how God communicated the good news of His love to bruised and broken humanity – it wasn’t just a message in words spoken or written on a page, it was a message in a person.  The messenger was the message, God with us - Jesus entering the prison of the world to show humanity that God has not forgotten us and how much he cares for us, and that he will deliver us from evil. 
 
Often good news is conveyed more poignantly and powerfully through sharing in the suffering of people, by standing with them in confronting threats and fears, by weeping with them in their misery, by holding their hands in time of need, and kneeling with them in their guilt.  Sometimes words can help – but too often we messengers think that only the message matters when in fact the messengers are integral to the message.  Bringing the good news in bad places - it’s not just in the saying, it’s in the being.