 My friend’s baptism remains one of the great highlights of my life. The feeling of that moment still overwhelms me. I ministered to him in jail about five years ago. As you can see, he was a tough guy, and a leader. He has a Christian dad and sister, as best as I remember. I talked to them on the phone in another part of Brazil. The last I heard, he was in prison again in Southern Brazil because of previous charges. I called many times, but who knows? Maybe God will cross our paths again in the future. I recall one of many anonymous stories I heard in those years. “I was breaking horses for a rancher way out in the bush. I was a pro, and he trusted me with his best horses. After six months, he gave me some wages and said I could visit my parents. I went to town with the roll of cash and went to the bar. I ended up in a motel room with one of the girls in the bar, but she drugged me and stole all my money. The next day, I saw her in the bar again. She flew at me in a rage when I confronted her about it. Finally, I walked over and sat at the bar. I tried to ignore her, but she kept harassing me. Finally, I flicked my bic lighter at her, just because it was something. She had a big puffy afro, and I didn’t know it was full of hairspray. It exploded, and she ran out into the inky-black, humid night, screaming and with her hair on fire… The police showed up and arrested me. Then they put me in jail on a different charge, of which I was not guilty. I have done bad things, but not the one for which I am charged.” Another guy went to the bar with some friends. After drinking for a while, a friend he knew from school accused him of stealing his cell phone. It wasn’t accurate, but at the end of the confusion, he had cut his friend’s throat, for which he was in jail. The friend lived and didn’t press charges, so he got out after about a year. This type of story is common where we live. In the jail, I would sometimes lose track of time and remain locked in with 25-30 guys for hours. Once, I pulled up in front of the jail with my motorbike, got my saddlebag with my Bible and stuff, and went through the police cars, reporters, and guys in handcuffs milling around the front area outside the jail. I talked through the hole in the big steel door, and the guard let me in. I also went through four more locked gates to the inner cell where my friends were. When I came out a few hours later, the guard gave me my motorcycle keys. He said I’d left my bike running in my absent-minded state. We laughed. I am constantly amazed at how quickly humans run into unimaginable grief when we are left to our resources and choose good and evil based on our judgment. The story is as old as the Bible. “In those days Israel had no king; everyone did as they saw fit” (Judges 21:25). Thankfully, we now have a King and a Kingdom. We feel so honored to be ambassadors who invite others in. “From that time on Jesus began to preach, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.'” (Matthew 4:17). |
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