“What day is it today?” I asked the man in the bunk below me. He didn’t say anything for a while but I was used to the long pauses in our conversations, so I waited. Finally, he said, “Tomorrow is Friday, so today must be Thursday.” I shook my head, he could never give a straight answer, the guy was driving me crazy.
I had been in county jail now for three weeks and probably had no hope of getting out before two to three more. My sentence had been sixty days and so far I had not gained any good behavior time because I had refused to do work detail. Picking up garbage by the side of the road in the middle of summer was not my idea of fun.
Long George called up from his bunk. “Wes?” I hated when he called me that but I answered anyway. “Yeah, what you want?” The pause was long again, while I waited, I wondered if that is why they called him Long George, because of the long drawn out way he talked, but I doubted it. Finally, he said, “You know my daddy was a preacher. Did I tell you that?” I answered no and said nothing else, not wanting to get into a conversation about religion or God or whatever. He went on to say, “Yeah, he was a preacher and we all were brought up to love the Lord.” I thought, “Oh brother, here it comes.” And without me saying anything George went on, “When I was six me and my brother used to sing in the choir with my Mom and my sister would sing too, but she also could play the organ by the time she was maybe, eight or nine.” With that he started to hum a tune, it sounded like a hymn. All I could think was, “Why couldn’t I end up in a cell with a rock and roller instead of this Jesus freak?” I hopped down and started to pace the small area in front of the bunks. “I hate my life, I hate this guy and most of all I hate God!” I thought, as I reached out and grabbed the bars in front of me and slowly banged my head against them. “I hate God, I muttered under my breath.” As Long George hummed in the background.
I spent many years in the grips of hate. It was a word I used frequently and the anger I felt that went along with it came to the surface often. I spent two different stints doing county time and probably should have done more, because someone had angered me to a point of fighting. If not violence then it would lead to arguments with spouses or co-workers. But no matter which, there was a rage and hatred that I carried with me always. And in that rage and hatred God held a special place. After all this world was His mess and if He did exist, why was everything so screwed up? If anyone deserved my hate it was Him!
The thing I didn’t get was I hated God, but even in the midst of that hatred, He loved me. Is that crazy or what? Here was this guy filled with rage and hatred, spewing it wherever he went yet all he had to do to turn that hate into love was see God for who He really is, as shown in His Son, Jesus Christ. Now let me tell you, that was not easy and it did not happen overnight, but it did happen. And for you out there filled with rage and hate, there is hope.
Maybe the love God has for us is explained best in one of the stories Jesus told, the Prodigal Son. What follows is a paraphrase of the story as told in the Gospel of Luke:
See there was this rich guy and he has two sons. The younger one is tired of living on the farm and he has had it with the father’s rules, so he says, “I can’t wait for you to die, give me the money I would inherit now, I want out of here!” The father loves this son and even though he is filled with selfishness and hate, so he gives him what he wants. The son heads to the big city and parties. He gets into drugs and women and more trouble than he ever could imagine. Soon things turned bad, he was running out of money and his party friends abandoned him. He had to take a job with little or no wages feeding pigs, and he was so hungry he wished he could eat some of their food, but even that wasn’t offered to him. Now as he saw what a mess his life was, his anger and hate toward his father seemed to fade. He thought to himself, “Maybe if I go back to the farm, Dad will let me work as one of his farm hands. They eat pretty good and I am starving.” So, he walks the long road back to his family farm, but when he is still a mile away his dad sees him coming and comes running to him. When he reaches him, he throws his arms around his neck and kisses him. The boy wants to tell him that he is sorry for being so filled with selfishness and hate, but the father just tells some of his people to get him the best clothes they can find and to get a banquet set up, because, “My son who was dead, is now alive.” (paraphrased Luke 15: 11-24)
Jesus tells us that is who His and our Father is. The one who loves us even when we are filled with rage and hatred. He is waiting for that moment when we turn to Him. If your tired of the life you are in, try it. He is waiting.
I spent another two and a half weeks in that cell with Long George. He still had two more weeks on his time as I left. I did not even wish him good-bye. Today, I feel remorse that I did not spend more time talking with him about the Lord. Maybe we will get to do that in the kingdom. I pray that is true.
Blessings John
7/10/17
Hate turned to love…another prodigal son
