And the WALLS came tumbling down

"When the trumpets sounded, the army shouted, and at the sound of the trumpet, when the men gave a loud shout, the wall collapsed; so everyone charged straight in, and they took the city."  -Joshua 6:20

"If loving other people is a bit of heaven then certainly isolation is a bit of hell, and to that degree, here on earth, we decide in which state we would like to live."  -Don Miller, Blue Like Jazz

“The true story of every person in this world is not the story you see, the external story. The true story of each person is the journey of his or her heart.”
― John Eldredge, The Sacred Romance: Drawing Closer to the Heart of God

My husband.  A man with a tender heart.  Desiring to help people.  Know people.  He thrives on generosity…even when he has nothing.  Even when it might cost him dearly.  He’s always giving of himself in service and friendship and jumps in headfirst when it comes to relationships.  I love that about him.  That’s one of the many things I love.  

Father’s day weekend in the visitation room of prison fills full and heavy.  Rick sat with us talking and laughing and loving his precious little gems who give him the honor and privilege of being a dad.  He is their brave hero, protector, and playmate who they love and trust.  And they see a man redeemed by Saving Grace being refined and chiseled and although painful...growth is a beautiful thing to see.

Rick leaned with his back up against the wall unusually quiet and pensive.   Watching the men all around with their children and families acquainted with many of their stories.  

And the ones who didn’t come.  The fathers who sat in their bunks trying to block out the pain of separation from the most important people in their lives aching to be with them …pierced by the dull drone whisper that surely  their own choices had caused the rift…gaping hollow wounds oozing so much regret.

And then he saw them.  Eyes brimming tears and lips quivering, he gulped back tears of joy.  A father reunites with his son.  A son who doesn’t come to see him.  Ashamed by his sins.  Ashamed that the perfect pretty canvas painted of their family was exposed counterfeit.  And the picture was more important than the man.  A man who had raised him and taught him right from wrong and loved him unconditionally.  A man who has repented.  Deep regret and sorrow as he turns and looks back…at the shadows and lurking lions of temptation waiting to pounce.

Rocky is his name.  A humble looking chap probably in his sixties with the warmest smile in the room.  He hugged his boy…and his grandson.   Then his daughter-in-law with a swollen belly of new life and blessings to be.  

Rocky was a top executive who had embezzled a lot of money from a monster corporation.  I met him and his wife.  He reminded me of my sweet granddaddy who was the kindest and jovial of men.  

He has three grown boys who have been disgraced by him and the stigma brought upon the family name.  And so they don’t come to see him.  And Rick says he talks about these boys as if they are the light of the moon and is so proud of them…and so sorry for what he’s done.  Rocky got greedy and disillusioned and had a job that made it easy…and he fell.  Hard.

It doesn’t happen with a single choice.  We don’t walk into a life of destruction with eyes wide open and plans to crush.  It’s slow.  And seductive.  Each barrier of truth broken down by small seeds of corrupted desire and twisted hope until the lines seem fuzzy...and the heart is numb.

How many times have we walked a road with a smile on our face and a skip in our step knowing all the while that something…something isn’t right?  And sometimes it’s on the grandiose scale of measurable filth like dollars.  And then sometimes it’s the black hole of bitterness sucking every ounce of joy right out.  

And what of the face of a prisoner?  High walls of razor wire and steel lock down the physical being that souls are temporarily housed in.  And does that change the heart of a man?  And what about those that can’t forgive?  The broken hearted that build protective barriers higher after every hurt…every loss…every disappointment barricading themselves in their self made fortress…keeping out the only true healing heart medicine.  Grace.   

The walls don’t heal….

And so Rocky serves out his 5 year sentence.  But not drowning in the sorrows of his wayward past or even his current state of affairs.  He fixes his eyes on the true Redeemer.  The only Hope we really have.  And lays down his own hopes and dreams and plans of what his life could have been and even what’s to come…and surrenders.  And his son…his joy…walks in.  And our hearts melt and the only real response for such a time as this is praise.  Praise His sweet Name!  For He makes all things new.

And the WALLS came tumbling down…


***On another note***
Jason aka "Gypsy" who I wrote about in my last blog post A Twisted Rose, has just arrived at a halfway house in Austin, TX.  I'm not sure of all his needs right now because he is still getting set up with an email and such.  But I know he needs a job.  He's into fitness and Rick said he'd be good in sales.  I'm sure he's open to any opportunity.  Please email me at rachpayne@verizon.net or call me if you have any contacts for him or know of anyone who can help. And thank you to all who already have stepped up and offered!  I feel the Lord calling us into a ministry that I never would have entered in on my own...but there is something sweet and exciting and wonderful to be a part of helping these people.  Only can explain it by Grace.  Won't you be apart?