The Prison. The Women. Our Privilege.

I returned home from my fourth mission trip to St. Vincent island last Thursday afternoon.

Almost a week has passed.  Coming home to a husband and 3 children who have been snowed in for days was culture shock.

I was exhausted from the entire mission trip experience and a bit worn down.  If you have ever done mission work you know that sleep is lost.  But laundry, dentist visits, grocery shopping and everything else doesn't wait on me to get caught up on sleep.  I had to jump back into routine with very little down time except for the 3 flights home which were not stress free to say the least.

So....I am still processing.  Still relishing.  Still remembering.  Still reflecting on ALL that God did on that tiny island to astound and amaze us.

He showed Himself in tiny ways....like providing a black flip flop when another team member's black flip flop came apart and she desperately needed a shoe.

He showed Himself in big ways...His Presence and His Power and His Resources were more than we could bear at times.  The most magnificent way God showed Himself was His favor upon us.

I mentioned in my pre-trip post that this mission would be different for me.  No step by step outline.  No VBS plan to adhere to.  A blank canvas that God Almighty would paint using broken people to make a masterpiece.

This trip had lots of variety.  It was fun and exhausting and heart wrenching all at the same time.

We ministered to the body of Christ.  We ministered to the worn out, the beat down, and those doing most of the ministry work.  We went into a school.  We went into a make-shift daycare.  We painted walls in the hospital as a service to the people.  We encouraged through the Word, through songs, through testimonies, through hugs and fellowship.  Everything we did, all that way spoken, and all that we touched was done in the name of Jesus.

He went before us and made the way...we were literally along for the ride.

One particular visit on the schedule was for the girls to visit the women's prison. 

A precious contact from the island had asked if we could go and visit the women there. 

We were excited.  We were scared.  We had no idea what to expect.

No cameras were allowed.  A dress code was enforced and rules were given to us.

-We were not allowed to touch the women.
-We were not allowed to give the women any items.
-We had a strict time limit of 1 hour.

The mood was odd among us girls.  Everywhere else we had ventured held an air of expectancy and excitement. 

Not here.  There is nothing light, exciting or expectant about prison.

It is the opposite.  It feels heavy...hopeless and even void of life.

Walking into that prison, through those gates and down those steps on the side of a jagged rock into a wooden holding area covered in chicken wire was terrifying.  We acted brave.  But we were utterly dependent upon the Holy Spirit of God. 

"What would a group of spoiled white American mission girls possibly have to offer these women?"

We didn't know.  But we knew we had to go.  We knew Jesus would guide us...

As we entered we saw several (7) women seated on the far side of the room.  A table stretched across the middle of the room and we were told to sit on the side of the room across from the women. 

The table was between us and it felt like a literal barrier.

I don't know what happened to me but mercy began to ooze out of me leaving its trails upon my cheeks.  Tears were flowing and no one had spoken a word yet.

~Awkward.~

I felt so stupid.  The last thing I wanted to do was embarrass these ladies.  But the tears did not stop.  I tried to turn my head and wipe them away quickly without drawing attention.

The ladies introduced themselves to us.  They told us their name, age, birthplace, job, and about their families.  As they spoke they became real people with real stories.  Pride welled up as they spoke of their children or grandchildren and tears trickled down their faces as well.

Once they introduced themselves...it was our turn.  They listened to us as we told them our names, ages, jobs, and about our families.  They would even clap as we talked about how many times we had been to their island.

We then asked them if they had specific requests that we could pray for them.  They all asked for us to pray for one of the women who had severe stomach issues.

At this point we turned and asked the warden and guards if we could cross the table and touch the ladies to pray for them.

The answer was "yes". (God's favor)

I am surprised that we didn't knock the table over.  We bolted across simply because we couldn't wait to hug their necks and hold their hands.

It sounds a little weird now but in that place it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Once we were all together we prayed over the woman with stomach issues.  We boldly asked in faith for God to touch and heal her.  Then we separated.  There were 8 of us and 7 of them.  We took the opportunity to minister individually.  I sat at the feet of a beautiful 22 year old girl.  I listened to her story.  I memorized her face.  I heard her fears and saw her despair.  I prayed over her.  I spoke hope looking into her eyes and silently begged God for her to absorb His Presence that was with us.

We had brought bibles with us even though we were told we couldn't give them to the prisoners.  The warden watched us ministering to these ladies one on one and allowed us to give each woman a bible (God's favor) and to write them a personal message inside.

Time was drawing near for us to have to leave.  We felt it and the warden wasn't going to budge on that rule.

We had about 15 minutes left and the ladies wanted us to sing.

We asked them to teach us some songs.  One of the ladies (the roughest one of the bunch) played a drum that kind of sounded like a bongo and lead us in two worship songs.

It may have been the purest form of worship I have ever experienced.

There was no show.  No stage.  Nothing special...except Jesus.  Fifteen women lifted their voices high in song to their Master and Maker.  They were in prison but their souls praised from a place of freedom.

Any way that I try to describe these precious moments seem to diminish how powerful it really was.

I will never forget it.

Jesus was there.  I don't think He would have missed it for anything.

We closed our time by singing and speaking declarations of truth from God's Word over them.

Then it was time to go.

We hugged their necks.  We took mental pictures of each of them hoping to remember each detail.  We called them by name and thanked them profusely for welcoming us so warmly.

This pitiful prison became our biggest privilege.

We walked out knowing that we had done exactly as our Lord would have done. 

(Just a side note about the women on our mission team.  They are incredible.  I stole glances around the room and watched as Vanessa, Mande, Cathy, Kim, Cindy, Rebecca, and Annette literally became the hands, feet, and mouthpieces of Jesus Christ.  They wiped tears away.  The bore burdens. They wept as Jesus would have done...
They are all pretty ladies but they almost glowed from the glory of God.  His presence was so thick among us.  I am honored to forever share this experience with them.)

Lord, make us Matthew 25:31-40  kind of people!!!

 “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. All 
the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.
 “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.
“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?  When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you?  When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.