set me free from my prison

Set me free from my prison, that I may praise your name. Then the righteous will gather about me because of your goodness to me. (Psalm 142:7)

I went to prison yesterday here in Lincoln to be with a group who were having Tuesday night services. Doug, my friend who is the outside motivator for the group, took me with him.

In general, it was good. The men were respectful and really, all in all, not much different than any other gathering of men.

But there was one thing different: they were all prisoners in a federal penitentiary. Which meant they were all convicted of a major crime.

One man spoke and gave an in depth analysis of the book of Jonah. You could tell he was acquainted with his Bible, that he had read it a lot. Another man, one with a large scar on his head, played the piano and led the songs.

But one man’s situation really hit me. He was probably in his early to middle twenties, and was in for eighty years. He said he had gotten into a physical altercation and someone had died. He received eighty years. If he was lucky, he said, he could get out in forty on good behavior. That meant that he would be my age before he could get out, and that only if he had good behavior.

I have not lived a violent or law-breaking life. I have never been in jail or anything like that. There have even been very few tickets in my life, compared to some.

But for some reason, jail ministry has been a large part of my ministry for the past couple of decades. And I really don’t care for it.

Part of the reason, I discovered last night. That is the fact that there is an alternate universe in which I could be there. I have always recognized the wild streak I had but have kept under control. Someone once told me that I was about half domesticated dog, half wolf. They could see the wolf part, but it did not rule.

And it never has. But when I was younger, people evidently could see it. At times, it came out enough that I would frighten people, especially with the size I am and as strong as I was.

But it was always underneath. The people in prison, though, remind me of that old saying: there but for the grace of God, go I. A man in jail once said that after he had got himself straightened out, he would come to church. I told him that so far, he had control of his life and look where he was. I let God control my life and I went home each night, ate a good supper, got to sleep with my wife and things were pretty good. Which of us had the better deal.

Of course, in the long run it probably made no difference to him, but for a minute, it dawned on him that the wrong person had control of his life.

I have had a lot of problems in my life, but lawbreaking was never one of them. But then I serve a risen Savior who loves me and I have given my life to him.

Father God, I thank you for keeping me safe from prison and harm. I praise you. Amen.

set me free from my prison so i may praise your name

Set me free from my prison, that I may praise your name.
Then the righteous will gather about me because of your goodness to me. (Psalm 142:7)

I just woke up from some unpleasant dreams. They were not necessarily bad, just no much fun.

In one – which I suppose was more goofy than anything else – I test drove the new Volkswagen beetle coupe. It was a two seater. It had a tiny VW body on the front with two small seats behind it. The driver and passenger sat out in the open so that they were exposed to the weather. For some reason, the fact that they were exposed to sleet (in the dream)  bothered me a lot. It was also so small I felt stupid driving it and people laughed.

In the second, I was at a gathering of some kind. Lots of things were going on, but I lay in my bed, which for some inexplicable reason was outside kind of in the middle of stuff. At one point I got up to do something and had no clothes. All of my clothes and everything else had been moved to another location that I didn’t know. I ran naked to an office to get some clothes. I found pants that had been cut off at the bottoms as they were a little too long, and a shirt.

For some reason, I was treated by a general contempt by many present.

In the course of all this, I met Tom Hanks and found out he was only 5’6”. He felt bad for that and I tried to comfort him by telling him he looked a lot bigger on screen.

When I woke, my hands hurt from being asleep and my sleep mask kind of hurt.

In general, a lousy way to wake up.

Last night, we watched Sixth Sense, a movie about a psychologist trapped here after having died. His main problem was that he himself was dead and didn’t know it. It was a very good movie and you never found out about the man until the very end. Quite a surprise ending.

But also quite a depressing movie. Maybe that infected me.

Whatever did, I awoke in a miasma of depression that is strong. And, at 7:15, it still has not lightened up outside in any appreciable way. It still looks like night. A passing thought was that I had died and it would be perpetual night. But that was fleeting. I seem to be given to weird stuff like that sometimes.

That depression has always seemed like a prison. For a couple of years after my baptism in the Spirit, the depression was gone. In its place was almost a smirky happiness. Then little by little it came back. Not sure why. I liked it when it was gone.

Elijah the prophet suffered from the same problem in 1 and 2 Kings. At one point he was almost immobilized by it and wished to die. The funny thing was that God had just accomplished an amazing miracle through him: the fire from heaven consuming his sacrifice in front of the nation of Israel. He had no reason to be depressed.

I suppose I do. but I hate it and wish it was gone. There are times when I eagerly await death so that I can be freed from this thorn in the flesh.

Set me free, O Lord. Please.