Yesterday at about 2 p.m. I was heading out the door to meet up with the guys. In just a few hours we would be leading worship in a maximum security prison. I was really nervous, I must admit. Not really afraid, just nervous, I mean anything could happen. I arrived at the church office where I was given a list of rules and requirements of what not to wear. "No white shirts (since the prisoners wore all white), cover most (or all) of your tattoos during the walk-in (we would be walking through the prison and not all were as well behaved as most of the crowd we would be in front of), no flip flops, and no shorts." We double checked each other and the set list of music we would be doing. Then a confession of sorts took place, we discussed everyones fear, nervousness, or excitement. I was super excited, and that outweighed any fears I had.
It seems that maybe a week or so ago I had come to the realization that we are all convicts. Some just get caught. Society views some things as worse than others but in the grand scheme of things I was no more right than any of those dudes in there. I was also remembering what Jesus said in Matthew 25:35-40; "...I was in prison and you came to visit me." I've never visited anyone in prison. Maybe I will.
At 3 p.m. we headed to the Polunsky Unit, which is a maximum security prison here in Livingston. While in the van some texting took place to let others know we were on our way, and some tweeting happened also, mostly for prayers and just letting other know what getting into. There were also many nervous jokes and still some talk of fear from a couple of the other dudes. We arrived at the main driveway and pulled up to the first security gate. We told the guard why we were there and he told us to park, unload, and go to the main entrance. Seconds before we get out Jason tells us to leave our wallets, keys, and phones in the van. We were like, what? Most of us verbalized that we felt naked without our wallets, keys, and especially our phones. Thats where my concept of time comes from and I was reluctant to not hear from Tasha and Chandler for hours. I put on a long sleeve shirt to hide my tattoos while we walk through. We left our belongings in there, unloaded, and headed to the front gate. Jason had already been here to scope it out once. It was all new to the rest of us though.
We walk in and they took our gear immediately to inspect it. The guards opened the guitar cases and looked in the compartments. Carefully combed over the amps and checked Jason's' backpack. "What now?" I asked. The guard replied, "Take off your shoes, belt, beanie, and empty your pockets." I put my shoes, belt, and guitar picks (the only thing in my pocket at that point), on the table between the metal detectors. I got my shoes and belt back but was made to leave my beanie at the front until we left. Apparently there was a no hat rule. I walked on through and the detectors only to be frisked very, very, thoroughly. It was like a really hardcore airport experience. There was a window with a lady behind the glass. She asked for our ID's and gave us a visitor passes in return. We headed out the huge metal doors into the actual prison.
A group of men dressed really nice walked by us immediately. Jason said hello and introduced himself. One of the men was the warden. After a short greeting we headed on through the next group of gates. The gates with razor wire everywhere. To our surprise, there were men dressed in all white everywhere. We kept on walking through other gates and making turns right and left. Then the chaplain pointed us to the gym, where we would be setting up. There were about 50 inmates standing there blocking the door. As soon as they realized that we were coming in there they parted like the red sea to make a clear path to the door. We walked right through them. The nervousness that any of us had climaxed at that point.
Once inside the gym, we set up like normal. A few of the guys introduced themselves and helped us set up mics, amps and sound check. It was their sound system so they knew the ins and outs of it. We borrowed their drums too. Most of the guys in there at that time were the ones who usually lead the service. They were the ministry team. They got us cups of ice water and set up fans on both sides of us. It was really hot in there.
Right away some of them took notice of our skills like Brok on drums and Shaun on keys. Other guys were interested in the instruments themselves, which lead to conversations with Tyler. Jason even borrowed one of the guys guitars. It was a sweet Epiphone SG.
I was told a little later that some of them took immediate notice of my shirt and tattoos. I guess I could see that. Although many of them had tattoos, no one else in the band had a single one. My shirt, I guess, could be a topic of conversation too. It has Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X on it and says United we stand, divided we fall. The black dudes in there got a kick out of the shirt and the "fried chicken" tattoo. Oh man, unbeknownst to me relationships were forming with these guys.
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