A prisoner in Christ

There are no signs to mark the way. It’s hidden away for a purpose, although the chances of someone on the inside getting out is slim to none. Surrounded by the East Tennessee hills on a sunny Saturday morning, it would be the perfect day to be outside, as many who are locked away in the Morgan County Correctional Complex (MCCX) wish some day to be. Wartburg, TN is a town that more people pass through than live in, with US 27, a major six-lane highway in some areas, becoming a windy two-lane road in this higher elevation.

Staying with friends in a historic neighborhood near Tennessee Temple University, I take off at 6:15 am (June 25, 2011), but the drive up from Chattanooga takes longer than expected.  I did not take into account the 55 mph speed limit after exiting Hamilton County. Then there are the many towns the highway runs through. Small town America is nice, but I’m concerned about it cutting into visitation time. Visiting hours at the facility are 8:00 to 11:00 am and, being this is the first ever visit, I feel a bit of concern. Thankfully the breakfast of oatmeal with peanut butter and a cup of coffee meant I would not be hungry this early morning.

Who on earth would I be visiting in a Tennessee state prison over 600 miles away from Orlando? His name is Jeremy. He has served 18 years of a 25-to-life sentence, over half his life behind bars. We have been exchanging letters for over five years.  As a believer in the providence of God, his working in the world, he saw this letter into my hands as I was working at Ligonier Ministries as a resource consultant.

A fellow employee came through the doors one afternoon asking “Does anyone want this?”

“What is it?” I ask. He answers, “A letter from an inmate. I don’t have time to correspond with him.”  “Yeah, I’ll take it,” I say in a matter-of-fact manner, much like Neo agreeing to follow the white rabbit in the Matrix.

While reading the letter my mouth gapes open because I realize that this is not your average inmate, or even Christian inmate. To provide some context some quotations from the letter (dated September 2, 2005) are in order. After thanking the original person for sending some books, Jeremy writes:

"I am a Reformed Christian serving a life sentence for a murder I committed when I was eighteen years old. I am now thirty years old. Several years ago I happened upon a book by R.C. Sproul, Willing to Believe. That book led me to read Martin Luther’s Bondage of the Will and eventually to accept the Reformed faith as the true biblical faith. Since that time I’ve been fortunate to read several great books by writers such as Edwards and different Puritan writers that I regard as extraordinary giants of the faith."

Jeremy goes on to detail the type of Christianity that tends to flourish in prison (hint: it is not Reformed, or anything close). Usually it tends to be the Word of Faith movement whose associates frequently appear on the Trinity Broadcasting Network. He goes on to write:

"If I could ask one thing from the Reformed community on the street, it would be this—to be able to correspond with someone who would have the time to discuss some of these things. I do not feel as if I am a part of the Reformed body because I am the only one in this environment who affirms the tenets of the Reformed faith. I would love to be able to communicate with someone who would help me to be a part of the Body of Christ in a much larger and more corporate manner. Perhaps a Reformed church would be willing to communicate with me."

Turns out I would be the first of many who would communicate with Jeremy. Not long into our letter writing (perhaps six months), he had been visited by some deacons from a PCA church located a half hour from Wartburg.  He had sent for some materials from P&R Publishing in New Jersey, likely with the same request, and they forwarded his letter to the church.  Jeremy has been a member in good standing for over four years. Obviously he cannot attend, but he receives visits from the pastor, elders, deacons, and members of the congregation and he is able to listen to audio tape recordings of services.

During this period his parents have become members of the church and, even though being behind bars, his relationship with his family has vastly improved as God has made his face shine upon him. After many years of writing and dozens of letters exchanged (and making it a point to visit since I had traveled to Tennessee several times since 2005) it culminated in this visit.

The correctional facility seems out of place in this environment. The green tree-lined hills encircle it like the Coliseum. There should be a large farm here. Though no farm, there are scheduled feedings.  I pull up in the parking lot of the visitor’s complex and I can tell cars are being searched. This is not always the case, but I was informed by Jermey’s brother, who met me there, not to have any sharp object or any kind of drugs in the car, even Tylenol. Don’t give the guards a reason not to let you in the prison.  That meant no tool box or ratchet set either.

I ride up and a guard takes my ID and asks who I am visiting. He seems nice enough, but it was also 8:30 in the morning and he’ll probably have a different tone come 11:00 when the temperature rises. I was to take my wallet and go to the tent for a pat-down. If my car doors were shut, then that was the signal that I can park the car.

After parking I go in with Jered, Jeremy’s brother.  There you sign in, show ID again, go through another pat-down (even though you walked may be 150 feet max from outside, in), and walk through a metal detector. The only thing on me is my ID and my car keys. Forget about having a camera. An invisible ink stamp that shows under ultraviolet light is put on my hand, a capital “T” that resembles the insignia of the University of Tennessee. May be it’s just a coincidence.

A metal door opens and we walk down a hall for roughly 150 yards. Then it’s through another door. Finally we go through a third door to the contact visitation room. It seems like a cross between a high school gymnasium and an airport terminal waiting area. Jered has put some money on a card to get stuff from the vending machine since no money is allowed inside. It’s now 9:05.  He gets me bottled water because there was no way I was drinking a soda that early.

“Well, now we have to wait for him because they just called him and he has to hoof it a mile to get here.”  What’s that?  You see, there’s the part of the facility that I am in and then there’s the other 80% that I don’t see. That’s the ground Jeremy has to cover. If it’s raining he comes in wet.

Finally, at 9:25 am Jeremy comes through the door. He’s only 5’8, if that, and didn’t expect me to be so tall. After 5½ years of writing there was no initial awkwardness at all. The visit lasted 2½ hours, well past the 11:00 deadline. Many thanks to the MCCX for that kind gesture.  Jeremy and I talked a lot about theology, Scripture, life, how prison life works, and our families. He is eligible for parole in seven years, but he doesn’t anticipate getting out.

The State is known for paroling people who have no business being out, only to see them return. If our prison system is really meant to reform people who have paid their “debts” to society, then it could be said Jeremy’s debt has been paid. He cannot bring back to life the person he killed, but that Jeremy doesn’t exist anymore. What is there to gain by retaining him beyond his parole eligibility?

Already he has worked for several years to obtain a Bachelor’s, Master’s and recently a Doctor of Theology degree from a semi-accredited institution. But he technically does not have an official undergrad, though he has taken some courses toward an Associate in Science. Schooling and work are good alternatives to laying around in a 10’ by 12’ feet cell (with a cell mate). Jeremy says he tries to stay out of his cell as long as possible. I have a copy of his thesis he wrote on Scripture. His church helped get the necessary sources for research. Yeah, not your average inmate.

Jeremy will have opportunities to teach classes with one of the ministries and even lead a worship service. He is excited for this opportunity since many services involve simply a band playing songs with no preaching at all. After the 2½ hour visit we ended our talk with the classic handshake hug (you know of what I speak). We will continue to exchange letters.

My final words to him are, “Till we meet again.” Perhaps we will…outside the walls.

I was in prison and you came to me. -- Matthew 25:36