Glenna’s (fictitious name) brilliant blue eyes and dark hair softly fell in loose curls around her shoulders in stark contrast to the orange jumpsuit that had encompassed her wardrobe for the last ten years. Prison walls isolated her from a world of empty promises, abuse, drugs and alcohol; a world where choices were made that could never be revoked.
Every week, she would sit in the same pew of the humble chapel. Her Bible in her hands, the pages tattered and worn with two pictures, both of her children when they were two and three years old. They must be teenagers by now. Both as beautiful as their mother, I’m sure. Glenna hadn’t seen them since she had been incarcerated.
I wondered what that must be like, guilty and convicted, not being able to see your children grow and mature into young women. I imagined sadness and regret, depression and loneliness. However when I looked in her eyes I saw only a radiant peace. This peace originated in her acceptance of her guilt, and from knowing by God’s grace, she was a “prisoner of hope” Zechariah 9:12, totally entangled and ensnared by the sure and certain hope that Christ forgives, restores and strengthens.
Prayer: Dear Father, thank you for giving us hope. May we too find healing and restoration in your gracious presence. Amen.