Quitting Jail

Well, I did it. After seven years of going to jail every Sunday to preach to the women in the Work Release Center, I up and quit. I made two phone calls and sent one email, and just like that, I was free of what has been a weekly obligation for so long I don't remember what it's like to go to church regularly on Sunday and be preached to.

It was easy to slip into the ministry unnoticed. I just showed up one Sunday and it became a habit to be there. Now I slipped back out equally unnoticed - I just stopped showing up one Sunday. And in between lies seven years of Sundays, and a lot of women who have come and gone, and in some cases, come again. I even had a mother who came prayed for her daughter, and then later, the daughter came and prayed for her mother. I came in every Sunday empty, begging the Lord to give me some bread to feed them. And I left every Sunday full.

I really don't know what difference I made to most, but I guess it doesn't really make any difference whether I know or not. One thing I've learned - God always lets me know what He wants me to do, but He very rarely tells me why. Usually when I think I know why, I find out later I was wrong. Maybe He's storing up all those why's until eternity. Or maybe He's answering all the time, but like my dog who is completely incapable of understanding the newspaper on any meaningful level, I'm too dense to get it.

In any case, thus ends a chapter of my life.