At the request of a church member, I made a visit to the Saluda Jail today. I've never been to a jail before. I've seen them. I've driven past the Huntsville State Pen several times but I've never seen the inside. Today, I saw the inside and I could feel the isolation the second I stepped through the secured doors.
I sat a table in the library for almost two hours with an inmate who was enduring the fear of being locked away for the rest of his life if justice was not served. As he walked in and I introduced myself, I could feel his fear and his anguish as he immediately burst into tears. I sat and listened to his story and did my best to offer words of comfort to him as he cried, as he wrestled with how he got where he was.
There is a reality behind those bars that I was never fully aware of, the reality of isolation and the reality that reconciliation, redemption, and forgiveness are either absent or isolated as well. Innocent or guilty, severity of the crime, killer or dealer, tax evader or thief, behind those bars you are the same. Behind the bars you are no longer Shane or Elizabeth, you are a number. Behind those bars you are stripped of everything you were on the outside and you are isolated from your friends, family, anyone and everyone. I am not going to make excuses for why people are there but the sense of hopelessness that I felt in that place gives me great worry about those who are eventually freed.
How do you become yourself again after you've stripped of you?
As I listened to his story and situation, a truth was reaffirmed: it is a very thin line between everything going extremely well and everything going to hell. In the midst of all the gun control talk I have constantly heard: "We need to keep guns out of the hands of criminals. We need to carry to protect ourselves from criminals." The universal truth is that no one is a criminal until they are proven to have committed a crime. Or in our day the truth has become: no one is a criminal until they are accused of a crime.
We say "so and so" cannot or would not commit a crime because they were raised right. In the midst of listening, I kept hearing, "My parents raised me right. I've never done anything wrong. Why is this happening?" It does indeed rain on the just and the unjust alike and no matter our upbringing, we are all one misstep away from being labeled a criminal. The line is so thin that it does not take much but a small accusation or a small rumor or a moment of unreasonable anger. That is the most real universal truth of our life.
Because of this truth, you would think compassion is spilling from our church walls. Instead we have churches and ministers lacking the very compassion that they claim. We cannot expect to change the world if our compassion for the brokenhearted, downtrodden, or imprisoned is less than it is for a stray animal. If we do not have compassion for our neighbors then how can we have love? How can expect to be a part of the kingdom of heaven if we are not compassionate towards those we have labeled as unworthy? How can we claim amazing love while denying to extend that love to everyone is imprisoned both literally and metaphorically?
How do we expect to re-clothe those who have been stripped of who they were without compassion?
It is such a thin line.
The reality of our day is seen in the very real breaking news. One minute we are watching cartoons and the next we are tearing up as people flee from explosions. In a sitting we are talking about tax returns and the complicated tax code and in the very next we are wondering how a tragedy could take an 8 year old from this world.
You and I are separated by a very thin line. If I do not have compassion for you, how can I have love for my family? If I do not have compassion for my enemy, how can I have love for my friend? If I do not ache at the sight of an 18 year old in chains, how can I enjoy the playfulness of a 3 year old? I do not have compassion for the imprisoned, how can I have compassion for the sick?
A thin line separates
Unseen until crossed
We discover the meaning of loneliness
When compassion is lost
A thin line separates
Healing or remaining
In anger or in hate
Love is abandoned when compassion is ignored
A thin line is between
Where you are and where I could be
Or where you could be and where I am
In my chair or on the sidewalk
A thin line is all there is
Separating joy and sorrow
Perhaps we'll come to see
In each person's face a reflection of our own
A thin line is indeed all there is
Between remaining stripped
And being re-clothed
In the image we see in the other
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