BARNEY THE BEAR

Many years ago the City Council of a large metropolitan city was researching diverse options that would stretch out a hand of brotherhood to the impoverished shanty town across the railroad tracks. They were seeking some benevolent gesture they could make that would give them positive public relations.

One day a Councilman spoke up and suggested, “Let’s help them start a free public zoo. Everyone loves animals!” The proposal was passed unanimously and it was voted to donated a cub bear to begin it with.

A ten by thirty foot cage was constructed and a cub named “Barney” was delivered to a neighborhood that had much crime and brutality. And the people responded by being mean and heartless as their displaced aggression took focus on Barney.

They would poke fun at Barney and flick lit cigarettes at him. He growled his first mean growl, snarled his teeth and paced six steps to the right, and then six steps to the left. Months dragged by and Barney began growing larger and meaner. The town’s hoodlums had already set him on fire twice and some men kids had poked out one of his eyes. He was a prisoner in a cage. They were doing horrendous things to him. He couldn’t escape his captivity. Barney was the victim of society and totally at their mercy. He didn’t know hatred, distress or brutality until it was inflicted upon him.

So, he paced six steps to the right and then six steps to the left, growled and then paced six steps to the right, and the six steps to the left, then six steps ….. He was incarcerated with no means of escape. No future. No hope. No one who cared!

One day an anonymous phone call to the city’s news-desk alerted a reported of the atrocities big, mean and ugly Barney was suffering. Intolerable! The feature story was run front page and the public was outraged that someone had fed him meat mixed with ground glass! Unanimously they decided to rescue Barney and transport him to their multi-million dollar zoo that had acres for bears and the tender loving care of dedicated attendants.

The truck was dispatched and the cage with Barney in it was brought back to the City Zoo and lowered down into an absolute dream come true, “Bear Heaven.” It had everything and anything a bear could ever dream of. Rolling hills, cold, clear streams, spring fed lakes teaming with delicious fish and the companionship of loving, bear hugging and joyful fellow bears welcoming their new friend Barney.

All this attention had made Barney fearful and angry as he paced the only home he had ever known; six paces to the right, and six paces to the left, then six paces to the …..

Very carefully, they slid up and opened the gate to his life-long prison of bars. Open at last! His way of escape was finally staring him right in the face! He nervously stuck his head out and looked over the breathtaking beauty of the new life that was open to him. And guess what he did? You guessed it; six paces to the right, then six paces to the left, and …. He wouldn’t take that first step to freedom.

Perplexed, the attendants hurried off to prepare the most delectable and delicious bear food that money could buy and a chef could prepare. This banquet was laid out before him just outside the gate to his cage. All he had ever eaten was foul garbage. The irresistible aroma filled the air as he lifted his snout, sniffed and salivated in extreme hunger. His eyes scanned the full array of any delicacy a starving bear could ever imagine. Guess what he did? You guessed it; he paced six steps to the right, then six steps to the left, and then…. He still would not be enticed to leave his old life behind.

Freedom was staring him right in the face. The gate was wide open but he stubbornly refused to leave the life he had led. He was hardened and institutionalized; an incorrigible that just knew society would reject him. There just had to be a catch. A whole banquet of life giving food lay before him and yet he rejected even the multitude who had eaten the same food and had been nourished and saved.

Night had fallen and the City Zoo attendants knew that desperate measures had to be taken. They knew that this new home was Barney’s only salvation so they risked their relationship with him and determined that they must use a confrontational means of reaching him. So they found a torch and set it aflame! Poking it into the cage and threatening Barney with consuming fire was all it took. He felt the approaching flames and bolted through the one and only gate of salvation! Terrified but free of his prison at last!

Even though the banquet of the Word is laid before criminals, it sometimes takes fire and brimstone to bring them to the foot of the Cross.

TOM AND JERRY

The joy of birthing was a double blessing to the exhausted mother, having given birth to two healthy sons. Identical twins! They were so similar that a ribbon was placed around little Jerry’s wrist so that his daddy could tell which one Tom was.

In time they were snuggled in at home and differing characteristics began to be obvious. Jerry was always happy, ate well and slept through the night, while Tome was cranky, had colic and cried all through the night. As years passed by and kindergarten began, Jerry was buddies with everyone and happily shared his toys while Tom was constantly fighting and hitting his playmates with anything handy. Soon the pre-teen time arrived with Jerry attending Bible studies and praying for Tom. Meanwhile, Tom had lost his virginity, was stealing and smoking crack. Well into the young adult years, Jerry became a church youth leader while Tom was selling drugs, pimping for whores and carrying a pistol. Jerry soon graduated from college, started a family and was a respected deacon in his church, still continuing to pray daily for Tom to be born again.

The contrast in their lives grew even sharper as Tom’s drug addiction caused him to begin a crime spree of robbing and killing innocent bystanders.

One night the police received a tip that Tom was planning to hold up a crack house so they sent two armed policemen to apprehend him while the crime was in progress. Tom crashed through the door, shot the drug dealer dead and filled his pockets with all the dope and cash he could carry. But as he turned to leave the two cops burst through the doorway with pistols drawn. Tom shot them both dead and escaped on a motorcycle he had parked nearby. He was not a cop-killer!

The syndicate and police were both after him dead or alive, either one would do. He had made the top tem most wanted list! Tom robbed, shot and killed his way across the country with nowhere to go, not even to his heroin sources. Exhausted, yellow eyed, shaking and deathly sick, lost in the swampy woods, he put the barrel of his gun into his mouth. “I’ll never hear the bang,” he thought. At that moment he remembered his only friend in the whole world, his brother Jerry.

Determined to see his brother one last time, he found renewed strength to sleep by day and hitchhike by nightfall, finally reaching his brothers home late one evening.

Jerry was startled by the midnight knocking on his back door. Cautiously, he looked out and faintly saw his long lost brother Tom! He threw open the door to greet what was left of the twin brother he once knew. Tom had become almost toothless, skin and bone, vomiting blood. Jerry helped him to the shower, scrubbed him down and then led him back to the kitchen in fresh pajamas, to a hot meal his wife had prepared and then slipped away so they could be alone together.

There they sat at the kitchen table. Tom and Jerry. Darkness and light. Identical twins.

Tom poured out his heart as Jerry intently listened and silently prayed for Tom’s salvation as he had done so countless times over the years. Meal completed and in a flood of tears, the brothers knelt on that had wood floor and Tom asked Jesus to be the Lord of his life. True, heartfelt repentance. The Angels were rejoicing at this extraordinary trophy for the Lord.

Jerry made a bed for Tom on the living room couch and Tom settled down to the first good nights sleep he had had in months. As the morning dawned, Tom awoke and panic stricken could not find his brother Jerry anywhere in the house. Jerry’s wife said, “He went to see your judge.”

The judge! Tom’s mind went ballistic. The judge was the last human on earth that he would ever want to meet up with. The “Hanging Judge” had vowed not to retire until he convicted Tom and personally watched him die by hanging! No one on earth hated Tom more than the Judge. And Jerry, his twin brother, had gone to see him. Blind with confusion and terror, Tom quickly dressed and drove their second car to the courthouse. The last place on earth Tom could ever dream of going was into the private chambers of the judge. A nightmare come true. But that was exactly what he did as he pushed the secretary aside and burst his way through the thick oak double doors.

The silver haired Magistrate was seated at his large imposing hand carved desk, head on arms as Tom shrieked, “Where is my brother?” He continued, “I’m finally here. I’m Tom, the cop-killer you vowed to hang!” All the slump shouldered old judge could manage to say at this point was, “Oh, my God. Oh, my God no!” Tom shook the judge as he demanded, “Where is my brother Jerry? Tell me right now!”

The judge began calmly, “Around 3am I was summoned to the court room because your brother Jerry had surrendered himself to the authorities. You both are perfectly identical twins, you know. I convened court, found him guilty of first degree murder as charged and he was executed by hanging less than an hour ago.”

Tom broke down screaming and crying, “You’ve killed an innocent man for my crimes! I’m the one you want! Hang me!”

The judge replied, “We’ve completely destroyed all of your records. You don’t even have a parking ticket.” Tom, still dazed replied, “What an I going to do now?” The haggard old judge thought for a moment and then wisely suggested, “An innocent man was executed in your place. He paid in full for the punishment that you deserve.”

He went on, “I would suggest that you live out the rest of your life as Jerry would have lived his life. He died so that you might live. Live you life in memory of him.”

IN BLACK AND WHITE

Two years of preaching and teaching every Friday night at this prison had developed a dependable and capable fellowship of believers. A small turnout was seventy attending, out of an inmate population of several hundred prisoners. Any praise band or female volunteers would swell the chapel attendance but I resisted that because I was resolved to disciple these inmates and solidly ground them in the Gospel according to Jesus Christ, without distraction.

I have memories of many exhilarating services where the altar was frequently flooded with repenting sinners. However, one particular evening stands out above the rest.

It was a chilly nightfall and more prisoners than usual had shown up. It seemed that they were up, positive and ready to worship and praise the Lord.

We began with a thoughtful prayer, sang a few old time hymns and as usual asked for testimonies before I got into God’s Word. It was at this time in the service that a big muscular inmate with a callous expression stood straight up. He was one of those athletes who pumps iron all day long and everyone fears his strength. He got up in the center of the men and spoke is a coarse gravel voice, “Hey Mr. Preacher man! I got something to say!” I relied in humor, “Anyone your size can say anything he wants! And take your time sir.”

Everyone had a good laugh at my feigned timidity and when the clamor had died down he continued, “I’m a two time loser. If I mess up again they are going to give me a life sentence. I’ve been a violent man all my life and it’s my fists and uncontrollable anger that has put me in the joint every time. I want to thank you for leading me to Christ last week but I’ve got to tell you about this crazy thing that happened to me the day after I gave my heart to Jesus for real.”

“Remember, you said that the Holy Spirit would come upon me, that I was a new creation? Well, the very next day I was in the day-room, just killing time and this big black dude come in and gets right in my face with an attitude. He was making fun of me being a Christian. He was doing this right in front of everyone. Well, Rick, to tell you the truth, I have killed men with my bare hands for less than that!”

“He kept on and on and all of a sudden, Bam! I was knocked to the floor. He blindsided me with a great left hook sucker punch. Down I went but I jumped right back up on my feet. It was then that something real strange happened to me.”

“My arms dropped to my sides, my hands went limp and ice water flowed through my veins and my mouth said, ‘Forgive me brother if I have offended you.’ I couldn’t believe it! He couldn’t either. He was all set to go at it but this took the fight out of him. He turned around and walked off real fast.”

“About four hours later, he came to my cell and said he was sorry that he had picked a fight. We talked for a while and I told him that I was born again and that Jesus now lived through me. We got on our knees and he gave his heart to Jesus.”

At that moment, the black guy got to his feet. They both walked toward each other, hugged and wept for joy in front of everyone. A hush went over the inmates and one by one they headed for the altar. I led them all in the sinners prayer and I hadn’t even preached yet!

Jesus had become Saviour and Lord to these two brand new evangelists and the witness of their salvation was winning souls to Christ. I learned from this experience that men would rather see a sermon than hear one.

JUSTICE AND MERCY

There I stood in a chapel packed out with death row inmates. To the novice this can be very disconcerting. And I admit I still get nervous to this day because any one of them can do harm to you and what does it matter to his sentence of death?

Looking over this unusual congregation I could hardly notice any difference from a normal church service except for the drab uniforms they are required to wear. It was and has been since a blessed event to bring the good news to the last, lost and least which I have been committed to these last 20 years.

As the inmates are dismissed they return to their regular activities such as watching a big screen television with a bowl of popcorn at their side. Or they resume playing fooz-ball or ping-pong while they wait for their craft classes to start.

You will notice that they are all well shaven and fed and have a wonderful fellowship that for most is the best life they have ever had.

Contract this to the dead victims and their families which essentially had no part of the judicial process and no restitution has been made. They are dead or grieving and in many instances falling out of society and away from the God that permitted this dastardly event in their lives.

Now I am all for justice and mercy but something is wrong with this picture.

Numbers 35:30 If anyone kills a person, the murderer shall be put to death…..

Capital punishment is meted out for punishment and their life is required as restitution to the life they so wantonly took. They deserve their punishment to the full measure not to have mercy this side of glory.

I once discipled a death row inmate scheduled to be executed and he told me that it was like peeling an onion. He kept taking off layers such as wife, kids, friends, minister, etc and crying until he got down to just him and Jesus. He said, “You know Rick there is really some humor in this execution.” I was aghast at his comment and asked him to explain further. He replied, “They are punishing me by sending me straight into the arms of Jesus!”

For those on death row, this side of glory should be hell itself and the other side mercy in the presence of our Lord.

In Memory of Chaplain Ray Hoesktra

CONDEMNED

Twenty-six weekend revivals in twenty-six prisons over two states simultaneously! It had never been done before. The logistics of this prison invasion boggled my mind, not to mention the trembling of my heart. Over a thousand volunteers would have to be instructed, assigned, security cleared and coordinated with musicians all at the same time. Well, this overwhelming task sure go my soul winning juices going as I sharpened my marketing skills and committed to this undertaking. Direct mail, church meetings and endless phone calls. A blur of apprehensive Christians caught up in the peer group pressure, contagious excitement, invading prisons for Christ. Setting the captives free!

As the December invasion drew nearer, I became disquieted and panicky of possible prison violence and danger. I had recruited these lambs and sent them to the slaughter. The prisoners would chew them up and spit them out. I was walking in fear and doubt. My spirit had weakened and at least I had enough discernment to press on in prayer an fasting in preparation for this spectacular event. While deeply into it, the Lord impressed me on the importance of spiritual combat.

The light turned green and the invasion was a go when I received an eleventh hour call from death row in the state maximum security prison over 100 miles from me. They wanted to participate and not be left out. I volunteered to do a Sunday morning service and the arrangements were made.

I arrived at the penitentiary earlier than the visitors and subsequent to a very meticulous search I was permitted to enter the confined security area clutching my Bible. I entered the walkway with ten thickly screened cages on both sides that were only three feet square and barely tall enough for a man to stand up in. Very comparable to a zoo. Extremely debasing and smothering. I made a stand at the gat and resolved to preach out and down the corridor. I wasn’t sure anyone would show up so I just paced the floor and prayed.

Three hours had passed before all the C. P. (capital punishment) inmates were positioned in these cramped cubicles. Each C.P. had to be brought out one man at a time, cuffed from behind and leg-shackled. A further obstacle was caused by the “No Physical Contact” rule in effect. The unbroken pathway caused much complaining and inconvenience for the other prisoners. One by on they stepped into these disgraceful cages and the cuffs and chains were removed. No physical contact whatsoever. They were phlegmatic and sulky and then it really hit me!

I was in an arena of death row prisoners that had committed crimes that were so unforgivable that civilized society required their lives as retribution. They had all been sentenced to die by lethal injection. Not competent to live. They would all eventually walk that last mile and return in a box. The awesome responsibility for their souls overwhelmed me and it was at that instant that I experienced a tremendous illustration from the Lord that has influenced my ministry to this day.

I opened us up in prayer and began turning to Psalm 51 when I noticed that I couldn’t see the print very well. I searched myself and realized that my glasses were missing and I would be helpless to read the text without them. Why would God do this to me? Didn’t he know how significant this service was? What did he expect me to do now? On my left was a murderous looking convict with a sneer across his disfigured and pock-marked face. Impulsively, I asked him if he could read this for me. He said he would.

I remembered a television service I had watched where the minister had someone read each line, and the preacher would preach. Seemed like a good idea to me, so I put the open Bible against the screen for him to read. And he began to read slowly and reverently, not however pausing for me to preach. Everyone hung on every word and the Spirit of God settled down on them in an incredible way.

When he was through, I couldn’t believe my eyes! One by one they dropped to their knees and began weeping. I hadn’t preached a singe word. Instinctively, I did a call to repentance and they responded as one. We then sang some praise songs to Jesus and the sentry ushered me out and on to the street. My head began to clear and the lesson sunk in.

Jesus Christ had done the service and what could I have possible have added to Psalm 51 but a death row convict to read it? My lesson? The Lord was with them before I got there and that He had remained after I left, still setting captives free 2,000 years later!

These articles do not reflect the opinion nor have the endorsement of the volunteers, staff or donors of Mission Gate Prison Ministry.

Rick Mathes is solely responsible for their content, veracity and truthfulness and welcomes you to contact him for further verification.