“Lay down!” “Stop resisting!” “Submit to the cuffs!”
Correctional Officers screamed at me as I was slammed to the floor, pain bombarding my face as it collided with the unyielding concrete, a huge, heavy hand pressing my head down. Squinting, I glimpsed Roy and three of his teeth lying in a puddle of his own blood.
I thought I was strong. I thought Roy was weak. I was wrong.
A couple months before that altercation, I transferred to Johnston Correctional from Polk Youth Center in Raleigh, a ‘Gladiator School’ known for violent fights, rapes and theivery. Nothing gave me permission to be human there, every day a fight, physically and emotionally, and violence was my only tool to handle conflict. While this tool cost me the most, my wounded, aching heart continued to support it, chanting, ”No more abuse, no more hurt. Ever.”
I was a prisoner to both the State and my anger. Fellow-caged swore I was a lunatic. Nobody knew that each night the shower hid a lunatic’s tears of confusion. Who am I?
I arrived at the adult prison with one certain conviction – make them say, “Leave that lunatic alone!”
In class, Roy, an elderly white man, sat beside me, singing, praying and openly expressing his Jesus love. How’s he so at peace in the same prison that’s killing me?
One day Roy’s joy clashed with the lunatic in me. I threatened, “If you speak any more of that Jesus s#*! to me, I will knock your teeth out!”
Roy only smiled before saying softly, “God bless you, son.”
The lunatic punched peaceful Roy, who ended up unconscious, bloody, and missing three teeth.
Leaving segregation, volunteers filled the yard. They greeted me, handing me Jesus tracts, inviting me to a Revival. I headed to the yard away from the Jesus freaks thinking, I just got out of the hole behind this Jesus s#*!, now he’s everywhere!
I picked up a basketball, began shooting, and saw smiling Will approaching. Knowing Will’s intention, I blasted him with cursing to get rid of him. He responded, “Yes, I am here to ask you to come to church, but I have a proposition. We play one on one, straight ten, make it – take it. If I win, come to the last night of Revival. If you win, I’ll buy you any meal from the canteen.”
Music to my ears! I got the ball first, checked it, drove hard to the basket, stepped back, pulled up, swish! No problem! I taunted Will, “Easy money! I’ll give you a plea bargain if you tap now!”
He smiled.
I drove hard again, stepped back, pulled up, but without the ball. Will had swiped it and was already laying it up. I never got the ball back. I lost ten to one.
I was livid. I cursed Will, spit at him and called him names. I wanted to hurt someone. How could I have lost to a weak little Christian at basketball? Will walked off, and I kicked the ball and paced the dirt track. Hearing footsteps, I spun around, seeing Will and thinking, time to fight!
Carrying a box, Will said, “Hey man, I apologize for upsetting you. You don’t have to come to the service tonight, but I would love to see you there. I thought you might like something from the canteen anyway.”
The tray contained exactly what I would have chosen…
Lying on my bunk, questions blared. Why is my chest feeling heavy? Why am I crying and caring about any of this? Why did I feel guilt concerning Will?
The speaker blared, “Revival Call.”
Not knowing why but feeling compelled, I jumped down and went. Stepping inside the chapel, all heads spun and eyes went wide. Everything inside beckoned me to bolt, except the small calm that sat me down. I didn’t know how to act, my legs antsy and dancing. The word ‘lesbian’ caught my attention. Looking up, I realized a volunteer was speaking, but why was she talking about lesbians?
Her testimony ripped the scabs off childhood wounds. She talked about lying in bed at night, the sheets tucked tightly around her, making a peephole to stare at the doorknob. She hated the color Carolina Blue, the color on her bedroom walls where her father abused her. Her past affected her future, impacting her relationships with men. She gave up, concluding death was easier than trying to live.
I heard that someone else had gone through what I went through. Someone else understood my fight, my pain, my daily struggle.
“But now, by God’s grace, my life is worth living.” Her past lost its power, and Jesus set her free. Her past also made her able to love and help others who were hurting.
“Your past does not dictate your future. Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.”
I realized I was sobbing. She stood, reaching to me, saying, “Come to me, my child.” The same indescribable calm caused me to take her hand. Kneeling before heaven and accepting Jesus as my Savior, I looked up to see Roy and Will standing beside me, hands on my shoulders.
Roy and Will did not see an obstacle in my lunacy, rather an opportunity to see a life changed. They taught me true strength and godly love. Their love and forgiveness led me to Jesus. I thought my anger and violence made me strong, but I was wrong. Real strength tears down walls and rescues people. Real strength is love, joy and forgiveness.
Because of the real strength of Roy and Will, I am now a Field Minister. God uses me to minister to the hurting and lost through love, forgiveness, joy and peace.
ABOUT THE WRITER. Larry Thompson, Jr. is new to WITS and also the third place winner in our summer writing contest. The judges were impressed with his easy-to-read, smooth writing style, as well as his willingness to be vulnerable and honestly share a life-changing experience. Mr. Thompson can be contacted at:
Larry Thompson, Jr., #0406623
Nash Correctional Institution
P.O. Box 247
Phoenix, MD 21131
