Letters From Prison

“What could Paul do while he was in prison?” This was the question my wife asked the 3-5 year olds we were teaching one Sunday morning. The day’s lesson was using Paul’s imprisonment in Rome as an illustration. Prayer was of course the most obvious answer, especially for the kids. 

But one little girl piped up “He could write letters!” We were blown away by the knowledge this girl confidently wielded about Paul’s letters from prison. We were just as impressed she understood this well enough to relate it to the lesson — or so we thought. 

A few moments after chiming in with “He could write letters!” she went on to explain her answer. “That’s what my Daddy does.” With our mouths wide open, her painful reality now stared at us in the face. Her answer wasn’t rooted in bibliographic knowledge of the New Testament. Sadly, it was a natural response to the current circumstances she found herself in. 

Her Dad had made some mistakes and was now living the consequences of those mistakes. But he loved his little girl so much he wrote her letters from jail so he could still be a part of her life. I imagined he must have realized the void his absence left in her life. Perhaps he was trying to fill it the best he knew how. Maybe he was hoping the lessons of his misguided example could be overcome through the love expressed in his letters. Maybe he was even hoping someone like a Sunday School teacher would help him do this in some small way.

It was here my role instantly reverted from teacher to student. This girl’s father loved her very much. I’m sure he wanted nothing but good things for his daughter. At that moment, teaching her was the best thing we could do for her. God brought to my mind that by doing this, not only were we ministering to her but we were also ministering to her father even though he wasn’t there. By showing love to someone he loved, we were also loving him.

The honest answer of a little girl to a simple question had just re-framed for me one of Jesus’ most famous parables. It’s found in Matthew 25:35-40:

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?”

The King will reply, “I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.”

I used to read this parable as Jesus’ blueprint for how I should treat the needy and those whom society doesn’t want. But for the first time, as this little girl’s words rang in my ears, I saw this scripture in a totally different light. I saw it as a relationship between a father and his children.

Contrary to what I used to think, Jesus wasn’t asking me to throw a bone to those less fortunate than me. He wasn’t extending himself in proxy to societal outcasts so I would be nice and polite to them. He wasn’t trying to coax me to donate my time, energy, and resources to those in need. No, the point of his parable wasn’t so much about teaching me anything. Rather it was much more about demonstrating God’s love for them, his children in need. He wasn’t concerned with trying to coax my action. He was concerned about providing for their well-being.

Just like this girl’s father, God loves his children very much. If I minister to their need, then I’m ministering to him as their concerned father. When I love on someone he loves, I love on him. Seeing his children through his eyes makes me want to give a drink to the thirsty, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, and visit the lonely. My reaction to this need will be a natural response springing from agape love rather than a token response drawn from a sense of duty.

In hindsight, it seems I have always read this parable rather arrogantly. I’ve only seen the actions I should take rather than the love I should extend. I now believe the intent of Jesus’ parable was to encourage us to glimpse the needy through the eyes of his loving father. In this way, we can love them the way he loves them.

I’m coming to discover more and more that my Christian experience really isn’t about me much at all. It’s about moving me out of the way so God’s agape love can reach through me to those who need it most.

Truly a child shall lead them…..

© Gregory M. Watson, 2010 (see Copyright Page for details) 

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