Burning the Chaff

Last Sunday during our jail service I came prepared to baptize a man who had requested baptism a few weeks before.  The jail Sergeant even personally filled up the minimalist paper cup for this Sacrament, handing it to me with a smirk across the institutional-maroon Formica booking counter.  I knew there was a good chance my supply of water would not be used as on the previous Thursday.

There was no guarantee that I would see the men from E-Pod due to the jail’s reorganization efforts.  My thirty minute time slot was already whittled down to twenty minutes due to the previous group’s late start.  As the guard ushered me back into the jail’s multipurpose room I learned that the upper tier of E-Pod was locked down due to a fight, so the chances of the baptismal candidate being in the lower tier was getting lower.  And yet I’ve been experiencing God’s amazing flexibility in working in the midst of the messiness of human contingencies, and the group that came in did includethe man wanting baptism. 

We looked together at Jesus’ baptism according to Matthew 3:11-17, and I suddenly wondered why I had complicated an already short time reflection by including verses 11-12.

“As for me, I baptize you with water for repentance, but he who is coming after me is mightier than I, and I am not fit to remove his sandals; he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.  And his winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will thoroughly clear his threshing floor; and he will gather his wheat into the barn, but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire.”

An inmate read John’s description that Jesus would baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire.  We discussed the verses that terrorize people about the chaff being burned with unquenchable fire while the grain is gathered into the barn.  

In response to an inmate’s articulation that chaff equaled bad people that would be damned, I suggested that chaff is the protective part of a grain—and that Jesus’ baptism is about removing and destroying this self-protective part from the vulnerable and valuable kernel—us. 

“What might be some of the means we use to self protect?” I asked.  The men mention things like knives, guns, and self-medicating efforts like drug and porn addictions, and overworking.  I turned to a young gang member sitting beside me who I’d know for many years and asked him if he’d ever threatened anyone as a way to self-protect.  He looked surprised and said: “That’s what I’m in here for right now—for threatening someone.”  

It encouraged the guys to see Jesus as not being about burning up people, but rather our self-protective attitudes and practices.  Seeing baptism as a surrendering to the fire of our ways of taking care of ourselves, our stress and problem-producing control mechanisms looked appealing.  After all, the men could see that this chaff had gotten them into the trouble they were in.

We then read the next verses describing Jesus’ actual baptism, how the Spirit came upon him as he came out of the purifying, chaff-removing water.  The Father’s words of total, unmerited approval appealed to these men who had a proven track record (criminal record) showing their inability to measure up. 

From there I suggested that we go right into the baptism and asked the man if he still wanted to do it.  He nodded soberly, and I asked him to stand and for everyone to gather around him in a semi-circle.  At this point I decided to extend the invitation to others.  Three other men from the group wanted to be baptized, including the young gang member who was looking at life inprisonment.   All of us spoke our agreement regarding the following baptismal renunciations and affirmations in both English and Spanish.

“Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?”

“Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?”

“Do you renounce all sinful desires that draw you from the love of God?”

“Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior?”

“Do you put your whole trust in his grace and love?”

“Do you promise to follow and obey him as your Lord?”

The guards came in just as I was dowsing the fourth man, twenty minutes into our time.  I left amazed at God’s perfect timing, grateful to be part of Jesus’ beautiful ministry.

Further Adventures in Jail

Last Thursday night I went to the jail prepared to baptize a man from E-Pod, but apparently God had other ideas.  The jail guards surprisingly ushered in inmates from B-Pod, a group of men who hadn’t been allowed to attend our services for over three weeks.

The fifteen or so men were eager to talk about Romans 1:18-20 (see my last update).  Since they had been kept from regular gatherings due to reshuffling in the jail they were particularly open and we had a rich discussion.  When the guards didn’t come after the usual thirty minutes I invited the men to receive more of the Holy Spirit in a way I thought they would like.  Since I knew they had been deprived both physically and spiritually I suggested that we try drinking in the Spirit through an imaginary exercise that I rarely do.

I suggested that we imagine that we are each holding a forty ounce can of malt liquor which we were going to chug (the fastest and cheapest way on the street to get an alcohol buzz).  I told them that I was going to pray over our imaginary cans, that the Holy Spirit would fill them so we could drink God’s Spirit right down into our beings.  The guys were humored and excited as we lifted our cans before us, popping the tabs to open them, asking the Spirit to come and then “one, two, three,” chugged them down.  We laughed together for a while and then I told them a story about when I had first done this drinking activity with inmates about eight years before. 

I told them how after I and the four inmates had received the spirit in this way the man to my right had began to cry, the man beside him was filled with joy, and I got the word “father wound.”   As I told the story I pointed in the direction of about ten o’clock in our large circle of men, recalling how right there, eight years ago, one of the four had stood up, saying he was sure this father wound word applied to him.

He had then pulled up his shirt to show us seven stab wounds his stomach.  He went on to recount how his father had beaten him severely when he was a kid and that he had felt so badly about himself that three months before he had stabbed himself seven times in the stomach and had nearly died from the wounds—continuing to feel severe stomach pain.

At that point I told the group how I had explained to this man the importance of expressing the pain we have from our fathers and mothers sinning against us, and then to drop our judgments rather than harbor bitterness.  I pointed over to where the man had been sitting who had stabbed himself, remembering it like it was yesterday, recalling how he had chosen to forgive his father and consequently been healed.

As I was finishing the story one of the men I had been pointing towards surprised us all by saying that this man I was telling about was his brother!  He told how in fact their father had exercised a lot of physical and emotional violence against them when they were growing up, and how his older brother had done prison sentence after prison sentence.

Realizing that I now needed to continue focusing on forgiving our fathers, we moved into a discussion about how when we don’t forgive those who have sinned against us we are likely to behave in similar ways.  At this point one of the men who had continued reading on his own after Romans 1:18-20 said: “Hey, right here it says exactly that:

“Therefore you have no excuse, everyone of you who passes judgment, for in that which you judge another, you condemn yourself; for you who judge practice the same things… Or do you think lightly of the riches of his kindness and tolerance and patience, not knowing that the kindness of God leads you to repentance” (Romans 2:1-4). 

A man to my left spoke up: “I don’t know if I can do that.  I am totally full of bitterness toward my old man.  Is this something you can just do, or does it sometimes take a long time?” he asked.

I assured him that it can take a long time when we’ve been seriously sinned against, and I reminded everyone of Jesus’ call to forgive seventy times seven (Matt 18:22).  A huge guy who worked as a logger to my right stood up and told how this would be hard for him too:    

“My dad shot and killed my mom when I was one year old.  He didn’t just shoot her once but four times.  I’ve been bitter against him ever since I learned it from my adoptive parents,” he said.

Just then the guards popped the doors and I said goodbye to the men, encouraging them to let the Spirit guide them regarding who and how they need to forgive.   I left amazed at how the Holy Spirit was so present to seemingly guide the guards choice of pods and the following words, Scriptures, example and even the gestures of our gathering.  I left interceding for these men, who like most offenders have been seriously sinned against themselves and are in need of big doses of mercy and love.