Going to Prison

I went to prison yesterday.

No, not for me--thank you very much!

I was going to see a friend who has accepted Christ...but then had to pay for a crime.

That's tough.

It was a looong drive to the prison.

When I entered the main building, it was like walking into another world. Almost 15 people were already waiting on institutional chairs to visit inmates. Behind the counter were two uniformed officers. It must have been shift change, because new corrections officers, men and women, were leaving their belongings in airline-style bins and being patted down and going through the familiar airline-style metal detectors.

They all looked very tough. There wasn't a lot of smiling going on.

The building was made of stone blocks, inside and out. The doors were steel.

There was quite a lot of steel.

As I waited in this line to be passed for a visit, I started talking to the woman who was ahead of me. She said, "The guy you want to visit is probably in 'L' building. When they pass you, all you have to do is walk outside, go around this building on the sidewalk, and walk over there."

Oh good, I thought. I like to walk.

When I finally arrived at the counter, I had my driver's licence and my friend's D.O.C. (Department of Corrections) number ready. The officer patted me down (always a little nervy when they get to one place!) and told me where to go.

Outside, I decided to drive part way (the officer said drive) but then parked at a farther place so I could walk the rest of the way.

As I said, I like to walk.

I managed about 50 steps before two officers drove up in a Ford van.

A prison van.

There's something about having officers drive up to me when I'm already on prison grounds that makes me nervous.

I mean, if they decided to nab me, I'd be already here, for cryin' out loud. I mean, it would be a whole 50 yards to a barred room with no mints on the pillow.

"Don't look guilty, don't look guilty," I told myself.

I smiled, looking innocent.

(And let me tell you, having been a confirmed nerd through high school and college, I can look really innocent!)

The officer was gray-haired and looked really tough. Everyone looked tough there.

"Where are you headed?" he said.

Translation: "You better not be doing what you're already doing."

I began to hear the theme song of the "Cops" show in my head.

"Bad boy bad boy, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they come for you..."

Looking even more innocent, I said, "I'm just walking back to 'L' building over there."

I pointed to 'L' building, as if they didn't already know where it was.

"...whatcha gonna do when they COME FOR YOUUUUU?"

The officer, not impressed by my obvious innocence, said, "Don't you have a car?"

Translation: "You'd BETTER have come here in a car."

Further Translation: "Because nobody strolls around out here--and if you DON'T have a car you're going behind that razor-wire fence."

"Oh yes," I said, desperately radiating innocence, "My car's right over there."

I pointed helpfully at my car, pouring out innocence and simplicity of mind (the second isn't that hard for me).

The officer said, "Well, you can drive around that road there and park in front of 'L' building."

Translation: "You BETTER get in that CAR and park in front of  'L' building!"

"OK," I said, simply and innocently.

They drove on (whew!) and I walked back to my car and drove directly to 'L' building. I did not pass "go." I did not collect $200.

Then I went through those doors, and was presented with a problem.

In front of me were steel doors with a glass window. Beyond them was a counter with an officer, and some inmates. The huge room was full of inmates. To my right side was another metal detector, and beyond it a second steel door with a glass window. Inside were lot of inmates and visitors seated at tables.

In my head I heard the game show host: "So, Mr. Beutler, what shall it be? Door number one or door number two?"

Being wise beyond my simplicity, I thought, "Well, you always have to go to a counter, and if I just go into the visiting room I'll probably be rebuked fiercely."

So I walked through the doors to the counter.

And was greeted by the shocked stares of about 15 inmates.

Translation of multiple shocked stares: "What the [bleep] are you DOING?"

I smiled desperately...and innocently. I was doing a lot of smiling that day.

The officer, who looked really really tough and had a voice like sandpaper, said, "What do you want?"

Translation: "What the [bleep] are you DOING?"

(So, it wasn't door number one after all. Game show host: "Sorry, Mr. Beutler, you get nothing!")

Head hanging in despair (I was past nervous by then), I said, "I'm here to see this person."

Sandpaper voice officer: "Well, I'm gonna turn you around and send you back through those doors. You're not supposed to be in here."

Translation:  "You stupid mammal, don't you see there's inmates in here?"

Finally they sent my friend into the visiting room. (Door number two).

The good thing was, my friend was way past glad to see me, and we talked and prayed together--and the most important part, he was smiling when we parted.

Conclusion: Jesus said to visit those in prison (Check out Matthew 25:34-40). And even though it's not easy, you'll find that if you do it once, you'll do it again and again. And if you have a chance, and actually do it, you'll change some one's life.

Because it's far worse for an inmate than a visitor. And they need us.