Reflections of my First Day

On my first day of visits I was accompanying the “head” of our small team, the pastor Jean-Marc. We entered into the main building of the prison and signed in at one of the guard posts where we were handed a ring full of keys. Jean-Marc explained to me that the guards would not be with us as we made our visits and that the visits would take place in the cells with the prisoners. The key ring he was holding gave us access to every cell in the prison. We checked our mailbox, stopped by the chaplains “office” (a little room shared with the Catholic, Muslim and Jewish chaplains) and then headed off for our first visit.

On my first day of visits I was accompanying the “head” of our small team, the pastor Jean-Marc. We entered into the main building of the prison and signed in at one of the guard posts where we were handed a ring full of keys. Jean-Marc explained to me that the guards would not be with us as we made our visits and that the visits would take place in the cells with the prisoners. The key ring he was holding gave us access to every cell in the prison. We checked our mailbox, stopped by the chaplains “office” (a little room shared with the Catholic, Muslim and Jewish chaplains) and then headed off for our first visit.

As we arrived in front of the heavy metal cell door Jean-Marc handed me the keys and told me to go ahead. I knocked, put the key in the lock and opened the door. When the door opened I was greeted by an extremely muscular man covered with tattoos. We introduced ourselves as protestant chaplains and the man invited us into his cell.

As I looked at the man motioning for me to enter into his cell, I was filled with doubt… what in the world was I doing here?  As I entered into his cell and into the world of incarceration I remember praying to myself “Lord please take this next step with me.” I thought I was prepared to go into prison and share the good news with those who were suffering, but suddenly I was not sure. On that first day, during that first visit, deciding to enter into a cell with someone who had been labeled a “criminal”, being invited in and welcomed by someone deemed unfit or too dangerous to live in society… was truly a leap of faith.

Despite my apprehensions, this first visit went well and the once unknown scary tattooed man has become a friend with a name:  Oscar and I meet on a regular basis and we have been able to build up a relationship of trust and understanding. 

As the weeks and visits have gone by I have been astonished at how prison has touched me. Prison is a place of suffering, of violence, of hate, of rage and of hopelessness. Hope, faith and love, the basis of the Christian faith, are very hard to find. I have talked to people from all walks of life who are in prison for a variety of reasons. I have been welcomed in, offered tea and coffee and people have shared with me their innermost thoughts and feelings. Sometimes they share stories with me that I would rather not have heard. Through it all I have become their guest and I respect their trust in me. I have tried to bring in the good news and, under the surface of torment, I have indeed found signs of hope…of faith… and of love.

Now opening a cell and entering is no longer a difficult experience. What is difficult is the end of the visit when I must say goodbye, close the door and relock the lock. Every time the lock clicks shut I am sad.  

Shalom,
Tim Rose

Tim Rose is a missionary with the Reformed Church of France.  He works in the church’s program for refugees, primarily from Africa, which helps them in the resettlement process.  Also, he works with projects related to the Middle East, specifically Palestine and Lebanon.