Yesterday evening, not being the first time going to prison and all, went a lot for efficiently. That’s a weird word to use for something so profound as a prison ministry, but there’s not doubt we got in and out much more quickly than last time. That was good, because it left more time for “church”.
It went beautifully, as expected. There is a man who calls himself “Happy Jack”, who was there last time as well, who may be the best singer I’ve ever heard. Anyway, it was a wonderful service, and it went over a little because nobody wanted to leave. A couple of guards positioned themselves in front of the chapel where we could see them in an unspoken summons for us to wrap it up.
But even they got into our version of Amazing Grace.
So anyway, I get home later than expected, and as I’ve said before, you can’t bring a cellphone or even your wallet into the prison. I walk in and Lintilla’s giving me a vibe like: Here I’ve been alone wth the kids and you’ve been out late with the boys.
Which is, technically, true. And ‘the boys’ would be considered by most to be BAD boys. So, somehow, doing what I figure is God’s work, I got in trouble. I think Lintilla was joking. I think. Right?