Once a month, my arm looks like this. I go with a team of students to a national prison called the Correctional Institute for Women. The letters at the top are "CIW" and if you look closely at the bottom you can make out the word "VISITOR". Sometimes, when you go to a play or an amusement park, they stamp your hand or wrist to show that you have the privilege of going in. At CIW, they stamp our wrists on the way in, to show that we have the privilege of going out. Since last year, six students and I have been visiting CIW every month.
We can't bring cameras or cellphones inside. We have to leave all of our personal belongings in a locker near the front gate. So the only photo I can produce for you is a photo of my own wrist when I come out. Sometimes I wish I could give you a glimpse of the place. It's not that bad, as third world prisons go. The women have beds to sleep in, and they have food to eat three times a day. It's not great food, but it's food. Many prisons in Asia don't have those basic provisions. But it's dreary. There are almost 2,000 women in this facility. They stay in rooms full of bunk beds, with no other furniture, about 100 people to a room. Most of the guards are irritable. If we bring snacks for the prisoners, the guards will always take some.
Once, I asked for advice from one of our IGSL students who had been in prison before. He encouraged me to just make eye contact and smile with as many people as I could on my way in. So I do that. They always smile back, and usually greet me. We meet with a group of about 12 women for Bible study and discipleship. They are always so happy to see us, and they greet us with hugs. We encourage them to take what we teach them and share it with others, and some of them are doing it.
Yesterday, after a Bible study on Romans 12:9-21, I asked them how we could apply the passage in the coming week. They talked about trusting God to care for them when the guards are grouchy. One lady talked about longing for a cup of coffee. (The prison doesn't provide anything like that.) She just talked to God about it, and that afternoon, a visitor came and brought her coffee. She said God's sweet answer to her prayer showed her that He cares. Another lady talked about praying for the guards. They all laughed about their answers, and told me, "We know you don't understand, because you live on the outside!" Their whole world is divided into two parts, the inside and the outside.
It's true. I live on the outside. And I have the purple mark on my wrist to prove it. But God gives me the privilege of going in and having fellowship with them on the inside. It helps me see my life from a different perspective. Although I know our visit brightens their day, it's probably not going to change the world. But it matters to them. And I think it matters to Jesus. So we keep going.
