I’ve learned a lot from my time behind bars. No, not as an inmate…as a volunteer. For the past three years, I’ve worked with VIPS (Volunteers in the Prison System). Our team is composed of ladies from several Houston area Churches of Christ.  We teach classes at Plane State Jail in Dayton, Texas on everything from recovery to character.

The prisioners aren’t the only ones who benefit from our interaction. I’ve learned some valuable lessons, as well. I’d like to share a few of them with you.

1. God gives second chances.

I’ve witnessed inmates, who were formerly enemies to themselves, their families, and society, give up long-standing, harmful habits and lifestyles to follow Christ. They are proof that as long as blood is running through our veins and we are in our right minds, we can follow Paul’s example—“…forgetting the things which are behind, and stretching forward to the things which are before. I press on toward the goal unto the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:13,14 ASV)

2. God will bring us to our knees.

Many of the inmates at Plane State are repeat offenders. They’ve had numerous opportunities to change their lives, yet have persisted in their old ways. Before transformation can take place, the hardened criminal often has to hit rock bottom. And not just rock bottom, completely bottomed out—upside down, topsy-turvy.

Inmates share stories of losing their husbands, health, homes, jobs, and even their children. We’ve prayed with ladies who’ve have had their custody rights temporarily, and in some cases permanently relinquished by the state.

How much does one have to lose before they give up a life of sin?

This question brings to mind a game my friends and I played as kids. One of us would bend the other’s thumb back until they cried, “Uncle!” The challenge was seeing if you could handle the pain without submitting to the command. It never worked for me. I said, “Uncle!” as soon as my thumb went backwards. But other kids could endure the pain until their thumb turned shades of red and then white.

Just like in the game of “Uncle,” some of us have really high pain tolerances and it takes a lot to get our attention. Rock bottom for one is not necessarily rock bottom for another. Because God loves us, He does what’s necessary to save our souls. This includes, giving us a ticket to the deepest recesses of agony, where our soul cries desperately for Him.

I can’t imagine being brought lower than a Texas prison cell with no heat in the winter and no AC in the summer.

My prayer is that my stubbornness will never require God to bring me to my knees.

3. God gave us resilient spirits.

Beyonce sings, “I’m a survivor. I’m not gon’ give up, I’m not gon’ stop. I’m gon’ work harder. I’m a survivor. I’m gonna make it.”

I’ve met some real survivors in prison. Women who’ve battled major obstacles since birth: poverty, single parent homes, drug and crime infested neighborhoods, inferior schools, and parents incarcerated. They’ve been molested, abused, and trafficked for someone’s perverse pleasure. As a result, they’ve spent their lives searching for love, moving from one destructive relationship to the next.

These inmates were left empty, hungry, barely hanging on, yet not destroyed. They survived because God gives each of us the ability to rebound no matter how difficult things are. No matter how low we’ve traveled, God can remake us into his daughters or sons as Paul mentions in II Corinthians, 5:17, Wherefore if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature: the old things are passed away; behold, they are become new.”

The Lord will bring us back to life, if we let Him, and He can do it anywhere, even from behind prison walls.

Copyright © 2011 by Dwan Reed. All rights reserved.

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A Prayer in the Life of a Preacher’s Wife” by Dwan Reed, LMSW, ACG (Advanced Communicator Gold)

The following article appears in Guideposts’ True Stories of Extraordinary Answers to Prayer – Unexpected Answers.

When I listened to our tone-deaf song leader screech, “Amazing grace how sweet the sound…”, I prayed, Dear God, please help me to endure this racket.

When I looked around the church and saw many gray heads and only a few children, I prayed, Dear Lord, help my husband to see there are better ministries we can be a part of.

When I asked for volunteers to help with the prison ministry and no one raised a hand, I said, Dear Lord, wake these people up to Christianity.

Each week, my prayer list grew longer. I could recite all of the things wrong with our church—no children’s ministry, more needs than benevolence, boring Bible classes, no church secretary, few young couples, defective air conditioner…

Whenever I had opportunity, I petitioned my husband. “Thomas, the church is dead. Why don’t we go somewhere that’s more spirited?”

He’d say, “Be patient. Things will change. You’ll see. But first we’ve got work to do.”

Work to do? Didn’t he realize it would take a submarine invasion, air raid, and nuclear battle to change this congregation?

Couldn’t he see the majority of the Vacation Bible School attendees were over seventy years old, the number of people coming to Wednesday night class could fit in our guest bathroom, and the yearly contribution was not enough to pay for the leaky roof?

I wondered, Why me? I never signed up for this ministry. The only reason I assisted was because I’m the minister’s wife.

My stomach felt unsettled as I recognized marriage to Thomas meant that I was betrothed to the church. I swallowed hard realizing that I couldn’t divorce the congregation.

Every fifth Sunday, we have a fellowship after service. One afternoon as I watched members crowded around the card tables with their plates piled high with barbeque, potato salad, baked beans, and banana pudding, I pondered, Why do they continue to attend? What is it about this church that brings them back again and again?

I listened to laughter and the musical exchange of conversation from table to table. I studied smiles and the glow on faces as people sat shoulder to shoulder. I glimpsed hugs, pats on the back, and hands squeezed in gentle encouragement.

As gray heads dined with thick black tresses, feeble legs with strong, dim eyes with bright, the tenderness and acceptance that warmed the frosty room—cooled by that defective air conditioner—also thawed my chilly heart.

I realized I had seen all the things that were wrong with our church without recognizing the things that were right.

I again bowed my head in prayer. “Dear God, please forgive me. You placed the beauty of your Spirit before me, and I failed to notice. I looked for your grandeur in ministries, numbers, and the comfort of the building but failed to recognize the jewels placed in the hearts of each member of our congregation.”

I suddenly thought of the words in I Corinthians 1:28-29,God chose things despised by the world, things counted as nothing at all, and used them to bring to nothing what the world considers important. As a result, no one can ever boast in the presence of God.”

I bowed my head again and asked God to help me be like those people as I strive to understand His amazing grace, veiled beneath the sights and sounds of an imperfect church.

Copyright © 2010 by Dwan Reed. All rights reserved.

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“The Dreaded Green Drink” by Dwan Reed

July 23, 2010

Hi Friends, I hope you’re doing well. Check out my article, “The Dreaded Green Drink” in the online version of the print magazine Total Body – pg. 19. Read about how the dreaded green drink evolved in our family and take a look at some great recipes.

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Thank God for Ugly Feet by Dwan Reed

June 27, 2010

There are two situations in life when strangers tend to bare their souls—When you’re sitting next to them on an airplane and when they see you wearing a black orthopedic boot. I consider myself attractive, but my feet—that’s another story. I remember when my first serious boyfriend saw me in sandals. After choking with laughter, [...]

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Surviving Spiritual Storm Season by Dwan Reed, LMSW, ABR, Broker’s Associate

June 3, 2010

“Have you been watching the news?” asked my husband, Thomas. “No, I’m unpacking.” “Well, there’s a hurricane heading this way,” he said. “You’re joking,” I laughed. We just got here.” Thomas was silent. “Are you still there,” I asked. He sighed. “We better get things ready. I’ll be home soon.” It was October 1, 2002. [...]

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Dead Bugs by Dwan Reed, LMSW, ABR

April 19, 2010

“Look at the beautiful bluebonnets,” I said, pointing at the vibrant patches along the freeway. My son, Noah, who was sitting in the back seat, said, “Mommy, I can’t see them through your dirty windshield.” “You’re right, the bird poop makes it tough to see. I’ll clean it off when we stop and get gas.” [...]

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