Prison Church

Prison Church I was in an isolation cell; when I realized God put me there. He sat me down to speak. He shook me awake. I began to live again. Everything was ok, again. I felt Him there, again. I knew who I was, again. I went to those prison churches. Those gatherings of criminals, like me. Those broken, hurting men like me. Those sons, husbands, and fathers, like me. Those guys whose only hope is God. Like me. No one was better than anyone. We were all known sinners. We were all doing time. We were all bad apples. There were no bosses. There were no judges. There were no cops. There were no prying eyes. There were no holier than thous. There were only failures. Like me. Caged, desperate men; Like me. Voices raised to God. Like mine; all clapping in time. I have never been welcome in church. Your pity is not love in church. I am never good enough in church. I am a failure in church. I am a felon in church. But, in that prison church; I was me. In that prison church; I was free. In that prison church; I smiled. In that prison church; I lived a while. chrisbunton.blogspot.com