When I arrived at North Carolinaβs Central Prison I wore my fear and trepidation like an aura as I, a pallid 128-pound weakling, stepped into my worst nightmare. All conversation and card games came to an immediate halt when I walked into the dorm. My first thought was, Iβm going to die tonight. I was about to learn just how misleading first impressions can be.
I never knew his real name. βPreacherβ was probably in his late fifties and, despite imprisonment, carried the demeanor of one who hadnβt a worry in the world. As fate would have it, I was assigned to the bunk immediately over him. After a couple of days of observing me in my self-imposed isolation, Preacher approached me carrying a soda and a Bible.
Now, I always considered myself to be a Christian. I mean, I was brought up in the church, baptized, and βsaved,β so I must be a Christian, right? Yet, I tended to view God as some sort of celestial Santa Claus who I called on only when I wanted something.
βYou look like you could use a friend,β were Preacherβs first words, as he handed me the Bible and soda. My suspicions must have been obvious. Preacher tilted his head back and laughed. βDonβt worry yourself. I ainβt gonna hurt you, and I want nothing from you. My friendship and the Bible are free. You can repay the soda when youβre able to.β
My relief, as well as all of the anxiety and apprehension Iβd kept bottled up inside, suddenly burst forth. Tears flowed.
βYou can live in prison one of two ways,β Preacher explained. βYou can serve time or it can serve you.β
Puzzled, I asked, βWhat do you mean?β
βWell, itβs obvious. God intends for you to learn something. You have a choice now, just like you did when you committed your crime. Itβs called free will. You can spend your years consumed in anger, bitterness and blaming everyone and everything else, or you can accept responsibility for your actions and make this time work for you and count for something.β
βYou mean, sort of like when life gives you lemons and you make lemonade?β
βKinda,β Preacher responded. βYou have the opportunity, albeit forced upon you, to better yourselfβget a handle on your problems, pursue an education, develop a talent. Itβs all up to you.β
I stared dumbfounded. βIt sounds as if you think I should be thankful to be here, Preacher.β
Shaking his head, Preacher replied, βNo, Gary, not at all. What Iβm trying to tell you is that you should make the conscious choice to not waste this time. Have something to show for it when the time comes.β
Preacher left Central Prison just a few days later. Inmates are a transient population. That was nearly 29 years ago. Since then Iβve earned four college degrees, and banked over 300 credit hours. Iβve published six books, four playsβall of which have been produced on stageβand innumerable stories and poems. Equally, Iβve developed an appreciation for art that once upon a time I would never have taken the time forβall of this while making time serve me.
Most importantly, Iβve gained a greater sense of who I am and a deeper, more meaningful relationship with God. I no longer see God as a celestial Santa Claus who I run to with a wish list of prayers. I now see God as my Creator, with whom I spend time every day.
While I am still not grateful for prison, I have come to accept it and to find renewal in making time serve me.
Attached media: https://web.archive.org/web/20211110131139/https://www.questformeaning.org/podcasts/20_04/03.mp3