This night was a learning experience, for all involved. This night we watched the pressures of life take a man to the end of himself. And this night we watched God bring him into His family.
Michael is a young man in our "aftercare" group. The group is called C4ward (Christian Coalition for Community Change), and the meetings are called Going for the Gold, a paraphrase of Philippians 3:12-15. "Aftercare" is the term for mentoring groups that help men and women on parole or probation make the difficult transition from prison back into society. "Difficult" is a severe understatement..."Down right impossible" seems more fitting most of the time.
Allow me to set the stage for our meeting two Monday nights ago: Eight mentors arrived, each with various levels of experience in mentoring, each with differing ideas on how to best approach life's problems, and each with one very important characteristic in common: We know that nothing is impossible with Christ. Two parolees showed up on this particular night; not uncommon lately. At one point in time we had 10-15 attendees on any given Monday, but "life" has happened to many of them, and our numbers have dwindled to five, with two to three regular attendees. By "life" I mean relapse, prison, or pride have taken these members away from us. But if two years of history have taught us anything, it is that most of them will be back. Our group has become a respite for some, a beacon for others, and a reminder to all that somebody loves them. When they decide it is time to take on life alone and it comes slamming down on them, they show back up at our doorstep, weak and weary, looking for something positive.
For thirty minutes we eight mentors met with one parolee named Jake. Jake is an interesting character, to say the least. He is off paper now (has finished his time on parole), but chooses to come to the meetings anyway. I suspect he still craves the love we offer him, a love he does not feel much of outside our doors, and he enjoys the message of hope we try to convey each week. Jake was a meth. cooker, a skill that landed him in prison more than once. Jake has a child he never sees, an estranged relationship with his parents, and not a nickle to his name. Jake is also one of the smartest people I have ever met. He can disband, repair, and rebuild anything electronic. He is a licensed welder, is great with tools and carpentry, mechanics, and a plethora of other skills. Jake is also a victim of "the label." When a man is sent to prison, whether he is rehabilitated or not, one thing is for sure upon his release: he will forever be labeled a felon. And this label is a heavy one. It reduces one's chances to find work, it sends friends running in the opposite direction, and it takes self-esteem to its lowest level. Therefore Jake, like so many felons, hides behind his label with his lack of self-esteem and continues to struggle to make ends meet.
Our meeting with Jake that night was positive. We talked about new opportunities that had arisen for him, and old problems that continued to resurface. Then, in walks Michael, fresh from his mechanic job, still smelling of oil, sweat and the cigarette he must have just finished as he approached the church building in which we meet.
Michael came in with an agenda. He needed to vent, and he needed us to shut up and listen. Being the astute mentors that we are, we missed all three of those points. As soon as Michael began to tell us about his problems at work (no respect from boss or co-workers, inconsistent policies and practices, no rewards or recognition for hard work or working beyond his job description), we began to give him solutions. "What you need to do is this..." one mentor said. "Here's your problem..." another chimed in. Next thing you know we had handily solved all of Michael's problems, and even read some scripture to him (Ephesians 6:5-8) to bring the point home. At the time, our suggestions and the scripture passage seemed appropriate and helpful. Each person was drawing on God's word or their own life experiences, and genuinely intended to help Michael through his problems.
At one point I asked Michael who he was doing all this good work for. "Myself." he replied. "Well, you're doing it for the wrong person." I retorted.
We were on a roll that night, making a difference, changing a life, getting our mentoring-groove on. That is until Michael got up and stormed out of the room. As he walked out, he took all of the air with him. Our eyes darted from face to face, each one searching for an answer to the same question: "Did I say something wrong?"
We sat there in silence for a minute or so, then I decided to go after him. I went to the parking lot and thankfully his car was still there. I eventually found him in the church atrium, leaned against a window with his back to me, sobbing. When I reached him I asked him if I had upset him with my question. His answer was emphatic. "I'm sick of all of this, Shane. I'm sick of everybody giving me the answers to everything when they don't realize that I've tried all that stuff. Everybody acts like I'm being selfish!" He went on to explain that when he said he did his work for himself, he meant that to be a perfectionist at work is the only way he knows how to be and that he takes great pride in that. He wants to be the best employee he can be, but does not know how to handle the fact that everyone else at the shop in which he works has a different method, and makes sure that they tell him his is wrong. He is tired of not getting recognized for extra effort. He hates working there but cannot leave because of the bills and child support he must continue to pay. He makes $420 a week but brings home less than $200 after child support. Yet his ex-wife won't let him see his children and the system won't help him change that.
I told Michael he is looking for approval from a place that cannot and will not give it to him. I told him he seeks approval and acceptance from everyone in his life, and unfortunately, aside from the members of our group, none of them will give him what he needs. I told him that there are no guarantees that our group will be there forever or that its members won't move on to something else in the future. In other words, I told him that he placed all his hopes in mankind, and because of that he has set himself up for failure.
As he listened I explained to him that the only time I ever felt real approval is when I realized that Christ died for me on the cross. I went on to explain how my life has changed in the past few years because I turned back to God. Michael was receptive to what I had to say, and his anger began to subside.
I then asked him if he had a bright spot in his week at all. He answered, "Church." He told me that two weeks before, he had nearly broken his neck trying to get down front for an alter call at his church, but froze up when it came time to pray. He talked with his preacher about it that day and several times since. "So you were saved two weeks ago?" I asked with excitement. "No," he said with a scoff through his tears, "my thinking is way too messed up for that."
"You feel unworthy?" I asked.
"Shane, I get so angry when I think about my kids. I get so angry when I think about work, and my girlfriend, and everything else in my life! How can I possibly be a Christian with all this anger?!"
I don't recall if it was at this moment or sometime prior that I began to pray that God send someone else out here to take over for me. I told Him I couldn't do it, that I didn't have the words. "This is too great a responsibility for me, God. What if I mess up? What if I say the wrong thing?" As I stared down the hallway, no one came, and Michael was still there, still upset, still needing Christ. "Okay, here we go!" I thought.
"Do you know why Christ came down here and died for us? Has anyone ever explained that to you?"
"Man I don't understand any of that crap! Why would God become a man? Why would he come live down here? And why would God kill himself?! It just doesn't make any sense!"
"Okay, I'm going to try to make this as simple as possible for you." I explained that thousands of years ago God was fed up with us all. Every time we sinned he required a blood sacrifice for atonement. At one point, the blood was not enough so he wiped us all out and let Noah and his clan start it all over. But we weren't any better the second time. We still were full of greed, lust, deceit, anger, and so on. We still worshiped other gods and took God's name in vain all the time. We still got angry when we thought of not seeing our kids, or troubles at work, or with the girlfriend, or whatever else was bothering us. We still sinned all the time. But God loved us so much that he wanted to spend eternity with us. The problem is that He is perfect and we are full of sin and could never shed enough blood to be pure and enter into His presence.
A light bulb went off. "Is this where Jesus comes in?" With the innocence of a child Michael began to understand.
"Yes." I smiled. I continued to explain that God decided to take care of the problem once and for all. He sent His Son Jesus down here to become our sin in human form. He took on all your anger, all my lust, all of our perverted needs to be accepted, He took all of our sins and carried them on His back. Then He let us put Him up on a cross and kill Him. And when He died, so did our sins. But then He rose again, and went back up to be with His Father.
"He gave us a gift, Michael. And now He's just waiting for you to accept it. I'm not saying you'll stop sinning and things will magically get better tomorrow. What I'm saying is that you'll finally understand who you really are, who God thinks you are, not what these idiots down here think you are."
He cried softly. "Do you want that?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Do you want that now?"
"Yes."
"Okay, then I'm going to pray, and if you can, repeat what I say." My heart was in my throat. "What the heck am I supposed to say now?!" my brain screamed.
"God, you got two guys down here, neither of whom deserve your Grace. The only difference in us is that one of us has accepted your gift, unworthy as he is, and the other has yet to. Jesus..."
I waited for Michael to repeat. He could only sob.
"Jesus, I accept your gift. I thank you for what you did for me on the cross. I ask you into my heart and into my life. I need you to be my Savior because I can't do this alone anymore."
"I...need...you." Michael cried softly. I smiled and shed a tear. "He heard you, brother. That's about as good a prayer as you can pray."
We hugged, he bawled, and we walked back to the meeting room. The group had left 15 minutes prior, but a few members were waiting on us. I told them of his decision and they applauded with joy. My father, Mike, who started this group with me two years ago, told Michael that on behalf of the mentors he wanted to apologize. He told him that on a night when he needed an ear he got a bunch of mouths. He told him that we had learned a valuable lesson from Michael. That sometimes mentoring is just shutting up and listening. Amen to that.
It's been a week and a half since that night. We have a lot of discipling to do, and a lot of problems to sort through. But in this short time Michael has found joy. He was fired from the job he hated and was immediately hired at a big name service center who will pay for his schooling, licensing, and give him the opportunity to move up the ranks. God closed one door and opened another for Michael.
"And you want to know the best part?" Michael asked with a smile as he told us about his new job. "The best part is that they have a policy manual that everybody follows!"
Mentoring is hard. Life is hard. But God is good. Join us on Monday nights at Fellowship Bible Church in Conway and be a part of something bigger than yourself. Join us and make a difference in one of God's children's lives.
Michael is a young man in our "aftercare" group. The group is called C4ward (Christian Coalition for Community Change), and the meetings are called Going for the Gold, a paraphrase of Philippians 3:12-15. "Aftercare" is the term for mentoring groups that help men and women on parole or probation make the difficult transition from prison back into society. "Difficult" is a severe understatement..."Down right impossible" seems more fitting most of the time.
Allow me to set the stage for our meeting two Monday nights ago: Eight mentors arrived, each with various levels of experience in mentoring, each with differing ideas on how to best approach life's problems, and each with one very important characteristic in common: We know that nothing is impossible with Christ. Two parolees showed up on this particular night; not uncommon lately. At one point in time we had 10-15 attendees on any given Monday, but "life" has happened to many of them, and our numbers have dwindled to five, with two to three regular attendees. By "life" I mean relapse, prison, or pride have taken these members away from us. But if two years of history have taught us anything, it is that most of them will be back. Our group has become a respite for some, a beacon for others, and a reminder to all that somebody loves them. When they decide it is time to take on life alone and it comes slamming down on them, they show back up at our doorstep, weak and weary, looking for something positive.
For thirty minutes we eight mentors met with one parolee named Jake. Jake is an interesting character, to say the least. He is off paper now (has finished his time on parole), but chooses to come to the meetings anyway. I suspect he still craves the love we offer him, a love he does not feel much of outside our doors, and he enjoys the message of hope we try to convey each week. Jake was a meth. cooker, a skill that landed him in prison more than once. Jake has a child he never sees, an estranged relationship with his parents, and not a nickle to his name. Jake is also one of the smartest people I have ever met. He can disband, repair, and rebuild anything electronic. He is a licensed welder, is great with tools and carpentry, mechanics, and a plethora of other skills. Jake is also a victim of "the label." When a man is sent to prison, whether he is rehabilitated or not, one thing is for sure upon his release: he will forever be labeled a felon. And this label is a heavy one. It reduces one's chances to find work, it sends friends running in the opposite direction, and it takes self-esteem to its lowest level. Therefore Jake, like so many felons, hides behind his label with his lack of self-esteem and continues to struggle to make ends meet.
Our meeting with Jake that night was positive. We talked about new opportunities that had arisen for him, and old problems that continued to resurface. Then, in walks Michael, fresh from his mechanic job, still smelling of oil, sweat and the cigarette he must have just finished as he approached the church building in which we meet.
Michael came in with an agenda. He needed to vent, and he needed us to shut up and listen. Being the astute mentors that we are, we missed all three of those points. As soon as Michael began to tell us about his problems at work (no respect from boss or co-workers, inconsistent policies and practices, no rewards or recognition for hard work or working beyond his job description), we began to give him solutions. "What you need to do is this..." one mentor said. "Here's your problem..." another chimed in. Next thing you know we had handily solved all of Michael's problems, and even read some scripture to him (Ephesians 6:5-8) to bring the point home. At the time, our suggestions and the scripture passage seemed appropriate and helpful. Each person was drawing on God's word or their own life experiences, and genuinely intended to help Michael through his problems.
At one point I asked Michael who he was doing all this good work for. "Myself." he replied. "Well, you're doing it for the wrong person." I retorted.
We were on a roll that night, making a difference, changing a life, getting our mentoring-groove on. That is until Michael got up and stormed out of the room. As he walked out, he took all of the air with him. Our eyes darted from face to face, each one searching for an answer to the same question: "Did I say something wrong?"
We sat there in silence for a minute or so, then I decided to go after him. I went to the parking lot and thankfully his car was still there. I eventually found him in the church atrium, leaned against a window with his back to me, sobbing. When I reached him I asked him if I had upset him with my question. His answer was emphatic. "I'm sick of all of this, Shane. I'm sick of everybody giving me the answers to everything when they don't realize that I've tried all that stuff. Everybody acts like I'm being selfish!" He went on to explain that when he said he did his work for himself, he meant that to be a perfectionist at work is the only way he knows how to be and that he takes great pride in that. He wants to be the best employee he can be, but does not know how to handle the fact that everyone else at the shop in which he works has a different method, and makes sure that they tell him his is wrong. He is tired of not getting recognized for extra effort. He hates working there but cannot leave because of the bills and child support he must continue to pay. He makes $420 a week but brings home less than $200 after child support. Yet his ex-wife won't let him see his children and the system won't help him change that.
I told Michael he is looking for approval from a place that cannot and will not give it to him. I told him he seeks approval and acceptance from everyone in his life, and unfortunately, aside from the members of our group, none of them will give him what he needs. I told him that there are no guarantees that our group will be there forever or that its members won't move on to something else in the future. In other words, I told him that he placed all his hopes in mankind, and because of that he has set himself up for failure.
As he listened I explained to him that the only time I ever felt real approval is when I realized that Christ died for me on the cross. I went on to explain how my life has changed in the past few years because I turned back to God. Michael was receptive to what I had to say, and his anger began to subside.
I then asked him if he had a bright spot in his week at all. He answered, "Church." He told me that two weeks before, he had nearly broken his neck trying to get down front for an alter call at his church, but froze up when it came time to pray. He talked with his preacher about it that day and several times since. "So you were saved two weeks ago?" I asked with excitement. "No," he said with a scoff through his tears, "my thinking is way too messed up for that."
"You feel unworthy?" I asked.
"Shane, I get so angry when I think about my kids. I get so angry when I think about work, and my girlfriend, and everything else in my life! How can I possibly be a Christian with all this anger?!"
I don't recall if it was at this moment or sometime prior that I began to pray that God send someone else out here to take over for me. I told Him I couldn't do it, that I didn't have the words. "This is too great a responsibility for me, God. What if I mess up? What if I say the wrong thing?" As I stared down the hallway, no one came, and Michael was still there, still upset, still needing Christ. "Okay, here we go!" I thought.
"Do you know why Christ came down here and died for us? Has anyone ever explained that to you?"
"Man I don't understand any of that crap! Why would God become a man? Why would he come live down here? And why would God kill himself?! It just doesn't make any sense!"
"Okay, I'm going to try to make this as simple as possible for you." I explained that thousands of years ago God was fed up with us all. Every time we sinned he required a blood sacrifice for atonement. At one point, the blood was not enough so he wiped us all out and let Noah and his clan start it all over. But we weren't any better the second time. We still were full of greed, lust, deceit, anger, and so on. We still worshiped other gods and took God's name in vain all the time. We still got angry when we thought of not seeing our kids, or troubles at work, or with the girlfriend, or whatever else was bothering us. We still sinned all the time. But God loved us so much that he wanted to spend eternity with us. The problem is that He is perfect and we are full of sin and could never shed enough blood to be pure and enter into His presence.
A light bulb went off. "Is this where Jesus comes in?" With the innocence of a child Michael began to understand.
"Yes." I smiled. I continued to explain that God decided to take care of the problem once and for all. He sent His Son Jesus down here to become our sin in human form. He took on all your anger, all my lust, all of our perverted needs to be accepted, He took all of our sins and carried them on His back. Then He let us put Him up on a cross and kill Him. And when He died, so did our sins. But then He rose again, and went back up to be with His Father.
"He gave us a gift, Michael. And now He's just waiting for you to accept it. I'm not saying you'll stop sinning and things will magically get better tomorrow. What I'm saying is that you'll finally understand who you really are, who God thinks you are, not what these idiots down here think you are."
He cried softly. "Do you want that?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Do you want that now?"
"Yes."
"Okay, then I'm going to pray, and if you can, repeat what I say." My heart was in my throat. "What the heck am I supposed to say now?!" my brain screamed.
"God, you got two guys down here, neither of whom deserve your Grace. The only difference in us is that one of us has accepted your gift, unworthy as he is, and the other has yet to. Jesus..."
I waited for Michael to repeat. He could only sob.
"Jesus, I accept your gift. I thank you for what you did for me on the cross. I ask you into my heart and into my life. I need you to be my Savior because I can't do this alone anymore."
"I...need...you." Michael cried softly. I smiled and shed a tear. "He heard you, brother. That's about as good a prayer as you can pray."
We hugged, he bawled, and we walked back to the meeting room. The group had left 15 minutes prior, but a few members were waiting on us. I told them of his decision and they applauded with joy. My father, Mike, who started this group with me two years ago, told Michael that on behalf of the mentors he wanted to apologize. He told him that on a night when he needed an ear he got a bunch of mouths. He told him that we had learned a valuable lesson from Michael. That sometimes mentoring is just shutting up and listening. Amen to that.
It's been a week and a half since that night. We have a lot of discipling to do, and a lot of problems to sort through. But in this short time Michael has found joy. He was fired from the job he hated and was immediately hired at a big name service center who will pay for his schooling, licensing, and give him the opportunity to move up the ranks. God closed one door and opened another for Michael.
"And you want to know the best part?" Michael asked with a smile as he told us about his new job. "The best part is that they have a policy manual that everybody follows!"
Mentoring is hard. Life is hard. But God is good. Join us on Monday nights at Fellowship Bible Church in Conway and be a part of something bigger than yourself. Join us and make a difference in one of God's children's lives.
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