.
Joian and I had a wonderful phone conversation last night in celebration of our one year anniversary of our first and only face to face meeting in Coronado. As we were about to finish our typical hour and a half visit I kept feeling an urge to ask Joian to pray for my Uncle Donald who is by the way only two years older than me. I had not heard from him in some time ......... as a matter of fact I had not received any correspondence from him since I posted this message about his mother, a number of weeks ago. As the Lord would have it Joian asked that we pray together for Donald, mentioning that in our innumerable phone visits we had never prayed together. After a long pause where it seemed we were each waiting for the other to start our prayer Joian finally began and we entered into an anointed intercession for Donald. God is so faithful as demonstrated by the fact that as soon as we finished praying I went to my computer to see that Uncle Don had just E-mailed me as we were praying. In this letter he told me how touched he was with this tribute and mentioned that the photos were not showing up with the post. So this morning I edited the post and got the pics up and felt like this old message should stay at the top today. Such is the way of the Spirit.
God bless you Uncle Donald and may you have a wonderful Fourth of July!
Jack
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So how do you know when it's time to post an old story .......the one you've held back on because it's your very favorite. It's the inclination to do so, when you awake and the confirmation comes with the tears that fall and the heart being made tender as you gather the parts and put them together an hour later.
So it is this morning with this. I pray this little story I wrote a couple years ago along with the added attachment of my dear uncle's comments brings to you a tear or two and little tenderness of heart.
Jack
I hope upon reading this short testimony you might catch a glimpse of just how far our God will go to meet the needs of the young ones in Christ. The "young ones" in this amazing story are my grandma and a seasoned convict named Preston.
As I stood before the two large jail cells my eye caught the appearance of one who's likes I had never seen before during my five years of jail and prison ministry. This man had a presence unlike the others and everyone about him seemed to pay an unspoken homage to him. His face was scarred and hard, yet his deep set blue eyes held a mysteriously soft quality within them. He was a large man with a body made powerful through years of fighting and prison yard weight lifting.
The place in which I stood, between two sets of cold steel bars, had become familiar and Holy ground for me. From this anointed spot, every Sunday afternoon at three o'clock for over five years now I had been sharing the Life freeing Gospel of Jesus Christ with hardened men that had been cast away as the dregs of society. My heart had been so captured by the needs of this oft battered and forgotten group that not once did I ever missed a Sunday in over seven years of ministry. This is what I did and who I was back thirty years ago; a jail house preacher ......... and in my mind the highest appointment of all God's callings.
Now, getting back to the story, this unique man was sitting at the large gray cement table, in the middle of one of the two large holding cells, along with many of the other twenty or so men that were housed back there. I introduced my self and as he stood I shook his hand while learning he went by the name of Preston. I proceeded to ask him a few questions about himself, as was my custom with the new inmates. Preston was friendly enough and as I preached he paid a quiet respectful attention. After my message I prayed with and for a number of the men and then bid them good bye as I continued with my rounds to visit the men in the other smaller cells.
During my next Sunday visit I took the time to find out more about this unique character that received so much respect from the other inmates. It seems Preston was what you would classify as a career criminal and had spent most his thirty five years behind bars. He had done some pretty nasty stuff and even alluded to a possible murder in his past. From the information garnered it seemed Preston would be incarcerated in this Oklahoma jail cell for a number of weeks until the paper work was processed for his extradition back to California. Cali was home and this is where he was facing new charges. Along with the charges there was also the possibility of a sentence of life imprisonment under the "Habitual Criminal Act" also know as the "Three Strikes Your Out Statute."
For the next few weeks I noticed Preston paying steadfast attention as I spoke of God's love and a greater purpose in life. I ended up spending much time in giving him individual attention and sharing conversation before and after my messages. He repaid me on my fourth visit by rousing every single soul out of their bunks with a suggestion that every one should sit down at the tables and give ear to what I was going to preach this day. In the seven years I never had a more attentive audience in that dark smoke laden back area of this jail. As I preached a seemingly more anointed message of God's love that Sunday I noticed a single tear roll down the cheek of Preston's scarred face. I knew then that this bad man was soon to be God's chosen child. I was thrilled even though Preston declined my offer to pray with him at the conclusion of the service.
The next meeting would be Preston's last and God was faithful to have Preston finally pray with me after the service. He acknowledge Christ as his Saviour and asked for my prayers with regard to his upcoming court case in California. I gave him my mailing address and told him to stay in touch before we shook hands for the last time. I noticed his soft blue eyes were raining tears as I parted.
God was so very good in the couple of months following Preston's departure. This new found brother was faithful to send at least one letter a week and the pages of these were full of wonderful testimony of God's love and goodness toward this once bad man. His marriage which had been in two heaps of bitter separation was restored and his wife had come to know God through Preston's sharing and his changed nature. In addition, instead of receiving a life sentence he was given only a year in a prisoner fire camp in the mountains of southern California. This was truly a great miracle as this sentence was not only phenomenal in it's lack of length but a "fire camp sentence" was coveted by all convicts as the very best in the California penal system. Preston was beside himself with joy and he was also growing strong in his love of God through his personal Bible study and prayer life........... but things were about to change.
It had been a few weeks since I had received any communication from Preston when I received a collect call. I had earlier, in a letter, given him my phone number and encouraged him to call me if he ever felt the need. It seems out of the hundred prisoners at the fire camp there was not a Christian among them and Preston was discouraged and lonely. Living a Godly life among such hardened and oft cruel men was taking it's toll and Preston asked me to pray that he would find the strength to hang on to his new life in Christ ............. I could never have dreamed of how God would almost immediately and miraculously minister to this situation.
A few days after Preston's call for help I received another unexpected phone call. It was from my grandma whom I hadn't heard from in years. She was bubbling over and hardly able to talk as she reported to me that she had just "found the Lord". She apologized for all the times she amusingly had addressed me as her "Jesus freak" grandson. She wanted to know what I was doing in regards to my service toward God and I told her about my jail and prison ministry. She was thrilled and said she had always had a soft spot in her heart for those men in the prisons. Grandma asked me to pray that God would open up such a ministry as I had, for her............ a light went off in my head.
Preston had mentioned the area where his fire camp was situated and having been raised in California I knew it was not too far from where my grandmother lived. I thought, "Wow! maybe Grandma could visit Preston sometime." I shared my thought with her on the phone and she said the camp couldn't be but an hours drive away and she would love to visit with my friend. I told her I would write Preston immediately and try to set something up ........... Glory Be! a new ministry was being birthed.
Grandma would make the drive up to the mountain fire camp on a Sunday a few weeks following our phone conversation. In this first visit, she and Preston would hit it off like a mother finding her long lost son. She would continue her visitations each following Sunday and soon other men in the camp joined Preston as he and Grandma shared God's love. Preston soon found his loneliness dispelled by a new and fulfilling fellowship as many of his camp mates came into God's grace. A small chapel would even be erected on the prison camp grounds before Preston would leave and grandma would continue to visit the men in that camp for over a decade. She would also start ministries in two other fire camps as this became her life's work. Can you imagine a seventy five year old woman driving all those treacherous mountain roads each week to visit and share God's love with multitudes of convicts. She once told me how she always addressed these hardened men as "sons" and they always called her "grandma."
In closing let me report that Preston along with his wife kept in close contact with my grandmother for many years following their introduction. Of all the many men this woman ministered to, Preston was always counted as her favorite. This tireless saint of a woman passed away a half decade ago and is buried in the mountains she came to love. I have lost contact with Preston but I will always remember him as the toughest convict I ever met changed into a glorious child of God.
Such are the ways of God and isn't He good.
A year after writing this account and after decades of unintended separation my uncle Donald (grandma's son) and I would get re-acquainted last July. I asked him not long ago if he had some old photos of grandma I might use to put a face with this story. In addition to the photos he sent me, which I have posted below, I thought to add this touching excerpt from an E-mail I received from Donald as he searched and gathered the pictures of his mother for me. I hope you can feel his words, to know the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and sensitivity of heart is oft a family trait passed from generation to generation.
dear Jack,
i found these and they have lots of meaning to me. first one was when mom and another lady were being ordained...and NOT in the finery of some magnificent church with lots of pomp and circumstances! it happened directly in the midst of prison walls with all prisoners participating, laying on hands, including the guy officiating. hard to believe, but Rev. Ray Gauger was a felon on death row and in solitary, where nary a ray of sunshine penetrated. for some reason or another, they released him on parole. to this day he cannot figure out why. he was a super person, but he's passed on now.
the other lady also ministers to prisoners all over, and she travels extensively. she's a genuine person too Jack. so being that the only two there were not convicts, they were each awarded a certificate certifying them to be "honorary convicts." LOL...kinda neat, huh! believe me, no self respecting church could ever come up with something that twisted...why.....they'd be shocked!! but not grandma or the other lady. they were honored by that!
.....hard to go thru all this stuff....plus....it touches me emotionally .......... she was so wonderful...such a person....so genuine and transparent
uncle donald
So it is this morning with this. I pray this little story I wrote a couple years ago along with the added attachment of my dear uncle's comments brings to you a tear or two and little tenderness of heart.
Jack
I hope upon reading this short testimony you might catch a glimpse of just how far our God will go to meet the needs of the young ones in Christ. The "young ones" in this amazing story are my grandma and a seasoned convict named Preston.
As I stood before the two large jail cells my eye caught the appearance of one who's likes I had never seen before during my five years of jail and prison ministry. This man had a presence unlike the others and everyone about him seemed to pay an unspoken homage to him. His face was scarred and hard, yet his deep set blue eyes held a mysteriously soft quality within them. He was a large man with a body made powerful through years of fighting and prison yard weight lifting.
The place in which I stood, between two sets of cold steel bars, had become familiar and Holy ground for me. From this anointed spot, every Sunday afternoon at three o'clock for over five years now I had been sharing the Life freeing Gospel of Jesus Christ with hardened men that had been cast away as the dregs of society. My heart had been so captured by the needs of this oft battered and forgotten group that not once did I ever missed a Sunday in over seven years of ministry. This is what I did and who I was back thirty years ago; a jail house preacher ......... and in my mind the highest appointment of all God's callings.
Now, getting back to the story, this unique man was sitting at the large gray cement table, in the middle of one of the two large holding cells, along with many of the other twenty or so men that were housed back there. I introduced my self and as he stood I shook his hand while learning he went by the name of Preston. I proceeded to ask him a few questions about himself, as was my custom with the new inmates. Preston was friendly enough and as I preached he paid a quiet respectful attention. After my message I prayed with and for a number of the men and then bid them good bye as I continued with my rounds to visit the men in the other smaller cells.
During my next Sunday visit I took the time to find out more about this unique character that received so much respect from the other inmates. It seems Preston was what you would classify as a career criminal and had spent most his thirty five years behind bars. He had done some pretty nasty stuff and even alluded to a possible murder in his past. From the information garnered it seemed Preston would be incarcerated in this Oklahoma jail cell for a number of weeks until the paper work was processed for his extradition back to California. Cali was home and this is where he was facing new charges. Along with the charges there was also the possibility of a sentence of life imprisonment under the "Habitual Criminal Act" also know as the "Three Strikes Your Out Statute."
For the next few weeks I noticed Preston paying steadfast attention as I spoke of God's love and a greater purpose in life. I ended up spending much time in giving him individual attention and sharing conversation before and after my messages. He repaid me on my fourth visit by rousing every single soul out of their bunks with a suggestion that every one should sit down at the tables and give ear to what I was going to preach this day. In the seven years I never had a more attentive audience in that dark smoke laden back area of this jail. As I preached a seemingly more anointed message of God's love that Sunday I noticed a single tear roll down the cheek of Preston's scarred face. I knew then that this bad man was soon to be God's chosen child. I was thrilled even though Preston declined my offer to pray with him at the conclusion of the service.
The next meeting would be Preston's last and God was faithful to have Preston finally pray with me after the service. He acknowledge Christ as his Saviour and asked for my prayers with regard to his upcoming court case in California. I gave him my mailing address and told him to stay in touch before we shook hands for the last time. I noticed his soft blue eyes were raining tears as I parted.
God was so very good in the couple of months following Preston's departure. This new found brother was faithful to send at least one letter a week and the pages of these were full of wonderful testimony of God's love and goodness toward this once bad man. His marriage which had been in two heaps of bitter separation was restored and his wife had come to know God through Preston's sharing and his changed nature. In addition, instead of receiving a life sentence he was given only a year in a prisoner fire camp in the mountains of southern California. This was truly a great miracle as this sentence was not only phenomenal in it's lack of length but a "fire camp sentence" was coveted by all convicts as the very best in the California penal system. Preston was beside himself with joy and he was also growing strong in his love of God through his personal Bible study and prayer life........... but things were about to change.
It had been a few weeks since I had received any communication from Preston when I received a collect call. I had earlier, in a letter, given him my phone number and encouraged him to call me if he ever felt the need. It seems out of the hundred prisoners at the fire camp there was not a Christian among them and Preston was discouraged and lonely. Living a Godly life among such hardened and oft cruel men was taking it's toll and Preston asked me to pray that he would find the strength to hang on to his new life in Christ ............. I could never have dreamed of how God would almost immediately and miraculously minister to this situation.
A few days after Preston's call for help I received another unexpected phone call. It was from my grandma whom I hadn't heard from in years. She was bubbling over and hardly able to talk as she reported to me that she had just "found the Lord". She apologized for all the times she amusingly had addressed me as her "Jesus freak" grandson. She wanted to know what I was doing in regards to my service toward God and I told her about my jail and prison ministry. She was thrilled and said she had always had a soft spot in her heart for those men in the prisons. Grandma asked me to pray that God would open up such a ministry as I had, for her............ a light went off in my head.
Preston had mentioned the area where his fire camp was situated and having been raised in California I knew it was not too far from where my grandmother lived. I thought, "Wow! maybe Grandma could visit Preston sometime." I shared my thought with her on the phone and she said the camp couldn't be but an hours drive away and she would love to visit with my friend. I told her I would write Preston immediately and try to set something up ........... Glory Be! a new ministry was being birthed.
Grandma would make the drive up to the mountain fire camp on a Sunday a few weeks following our phone conversation. In this first visit, she and Preston would hit it off like a mother finding her long lost son. She would continue her visitations each following Sunday and soon other men in the camp joined Preston as he and Grandma shared God's love. Preston soon found his loneliness dispelled by a new and fulfilling fellowship as many of his camp mates came into God's grace. A small chapel would even be erected on the prison camp grounds before Preston would leave and grandma would continue to visit the men in that camp for over a decade. She would also start ministries in two other fire camps as this became her life's work. Can you imagine a seventy five year old woman driving all those treacherous mountain roads each week to visit and share God's love with multitudes of convicts. She once told me how she always addressed these hardened men as "sons" and they always called her "grandma."
In closing let me report that Preston along with his wife kept in close contact with my grandmother for many years following their introduction. Of all the many men this woman ministered to, Preston was always counted as her favorite. This tireless saint of a woman passed away a half decade ago and is buried in the mountains she came to love. I have lost contact with Preston but I will always remember him as the toughest convict I ever met changed into a glorious child of God.
Such are the ways of God and isn't He good.
A year after writing this account and after decades of unintended separation my uncle Donald (grandma's son) and I would get re-acquainted last July. I asked him not long ago if he had some old photos of grandma I might use to put a face with this story. In addition to the photos he sent me, which I have posted below, I thought to add this touching excerpt from an E-mail I received from Donald as he searched and gathered the pictures of his mother for me. I hope you can feel his words, to know the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and sensitivity of heart is oft a family trait passed from generation to generation.
dear Jack,
i found these and they have lots of meaning to me. first one was when mom and another lady were being ordained...and NOT in the finery of some magnificent church with lots of pomp and circumstances! it happened directly in the midst of prison walls with all prisoners participating, laying on hands, including the guy officiating. hard to believe, but Rev. Ray Gauger was a felon on death row and in solitary, where nary a ray of sunshine penetrated. for some reason or another, they released him on parole. to this day he cannot figure out why. he was a super person, but he's passed on now.
the other lady also ministers to prisoners all over, and she travels extensively. she's a genuine person too Jack. so being that the only two there were not convicts, they were each awarded a certificate certifying them to be "honorary convicts." LOL...kinda neat, huh! believe me, no self respecting church could ever come up with something that twisted...why.....they'd be shocked!! but not grandma or the other lady. they were honored by that!
.....hard to go thru all this stuff....plus....it touches me emotionally .......... she was so wonderful...such a person....so genuine and transparent
uncle donald
Grandma is the little dark haired woman in the
center of the photo. She is with her beloved boys,
being ordained as an "Honorary Convict"
.
