Our team worked as assistant facilitators for a week long introduction to restorative justice. There were twenty four young men who took part in this program. They were split into six table groups of four students each, and were joined by two facilitators, an experienced main facilitator and a newer assistant facilitator. The young men are continuing with weekly followup sessions which include additional highly-needed teachings for two more months with other volunteers. Because all of us were at different tables, we all have different men who are extra special to us, and we all heard different stories. Below, all three of us will do our best to explain to you what we saw, and how it affected us.
 |
| This young man had much to think over. Even though he was a high level gangster with many privileges, he decided that that way of life was no longer for him. |
 |
| Andrew giving the guys a lesson that they can become trustworthy even if they were not before by putting his safety in their hands. He free fell backwards off the edge of a metal bed over a concrete floor, and they caught him. |
Tatiana
 |
| I miss these guys so much! |
It seems impossible that so much could happen in just a week, and indeed some guys are taking their time thinking it over, but overall the transformation is amazing, and hopefully every young man will continue to think about what they heard and grow even more from it.
One of the main focuses of the program is taking responsibility. Many of these guys have been blaming their bad friends, their gang leaders, their abusive fathers, their drug-addicted mothers, the alcohol they consumed, etc., etc., etc. It is good to know what makes you weak and more susceptible to get into trouble, but it should not be used as an out to escape from guilt and paying the price of your actions. Furthermore, the guys know that they are lying to themselves so they have suppressed guilt that never goes away, and that drives them to drink and use drugs that push them towards committing more crimes. In one class on taking responsibility Andrew (our leader) asked for a volunteer, and when the young man came up, he jumped onto his back. He explained "Some of you have been blaming your fathers for all your crimes. 'If he was only present in my childhood I wouldn't have joined a gang. He was a drinker, so I am a drinker, and then I get angry when I drink.' But was your father actually there when you committed the crime? Was he on your back? Did he put the gun in your hand? (here Andrew pulled up the arm of the young man and acted like there was an exchange of a weapon) Did he pull the trigger when you murdered that man? No! It was you!"
 |
| You can tell from the body language how engaging the sessions were. |
The first topic of the program, which was tragic to go through with them, was called "Roots to Fruits". The guys looked at a picture of a "bad" tree
Then they looked at the good tree.
As they circled words on the trees that applied to them, and started opening up, I saw how little of a surprise it was that they had ended up here. They do need to take responsibility for their actions, but we also need to take responsibility to create better neighborhoods for our young people to develop in. That was my biggest take away from nineteen days volunteering in prison ministry. In the future, I plan to do most of my prison ministry by helping keep kids from growing up into the teenagers and adults who need prison ministry. I also learned in a much deeper way that there is no man unreachable by God's grace.
In order to share with you the wonder and power of their transformation, I think I must share with you a little of where they are coming from. What I am about to share is a bit graphic, violent, and tragic. If this is not something you want in your mind, skip the next paragraph.
At my table of four, as we moved through the week, they shared the violence of their childhood. One poured out to me during lunch, how as a child, he watched his father beat his mother. As he grew bigger, he took on the role of her defender. Sadly his brother followed in his father's footsteps. When my student was in his teens, he would sometimes stay away from home all weekend because it was so toxic, but then his mother would call him and tell him "Because you were not here to protect me they beat me worse. I need you at home!" There was another story at my table of being locked into the back of a car and while an uncle beat him up. They shared the violence that brought them to prison. One at my table told the story of the murder he committed. Someone told him his girlfriend was cheating on him, and when he went to confront her, she would not even talk to him or let him in the house. Hurt and angry he got increasingly drunk. As he walked his neighborhood streets late that night they came across a stranger. The young man asked him who he was and what he was doing out alone so late at night. The other refused to reply in any way. The young man then realized from his tattoos that he was from a gang that was a rival of the gang he himself and most in the area belonged to. He became convinced that the only reason this guy could have for being in a rival gang's territory late at night, was murder. So he took preemptive action and stabbed him. He did not kill him at first, but instead wound up following him with the encouragement of his friends and finishing him off after much suffering. They also told me of the violence that is in their lives now. Murders happen far too often in prison. One of the biggest prison gangs has murder as their primary entry and rank climbing method. Even light bulbs become deadly in such an environment.
Then they looked at the good tree.
As they circled words on the trees that applied to them, and started opening up, I saw how little of a surprise it was that they had ended up here. They do need to take responsibility for their actions, but we also need to take responsibility to create better neighborhoods for our young people to develop in. That was my biggest take away from nineteen days volunteering in prison ministry. In the future, I plan to do most of my prison ministry by helping keep kids from growing up into the teenagers and adults who need prison ministry. I also learned in a much deeper way that there is no man unreachable by God's grace.
In order to share with you the wonder and power of their transformation, I think I must share with you a little of where they are coming from. What I am about to share is a bit graphic, violent, and tragic. If this is not something you want in your mind, skip the next paragraph.
At my table of four, as we moved through the week, they shared the violence of their childhood. One poured out to me during lunch, how as a child, he watched his father beat his mother. As he grew bigger, he took on the role of her defender. Sadly his brother followed in his father's footsteps. When my student was in his teens, he would sometimes stay away from home all weekend because it was so toxic, but then his mother would call him and tell him "Because you were not here to protect me they beat me worse. I need you at home!" There was another story at my table of being locked into the back of a car and while an uncle beat him up. They shared the violence that brought them to prison. One at my table told the story of the murder he committed. Someone told him his girlfriend was cheating on him, and when he went to confront her, she would not even talk to him or let him in the house. Hurt and angry he got increasingly drunk. As he walked his neighborhood streets late that night they came across a stranger. The young man asked him who he was and what he was doing out alone so late at night. The other refused to reply in any way. The young man then realized from his tattoos that he was from a gang that was a rival of the gang he himself and most in the area belonged to. He became convinced that the only reason this guy could have for being in a rival gang's territory late at night, was murder. So he took preemptive action and stabbed him. He did not kill him at first, but instead wound up following him with the encouragement of his friends and finishing him off after much suffering. They also told me of the violence that is in their lives now. Murders happen far too often in prison. One of the biggest prison gangs has murder as their primary entry and rank climbing method. Even light bulbs become deadly in such an environment.
Seeing where these men came from and how they were living now, it would be easy to be hopeless. It would be easy to say they were beyond help and focus our energy on other "easier" people. However, these man have an advantage over many others. They know they are messed up. They know they need help. By the end of the week, two had become Christians, and seven had left the gangs (including two of my own four young men) As we went through the week they asked so many questions, and for help in making decisions. They all wanted to be free, and to live lives they could be proud of, but how do you move forward when you are afraid there is a target on your head now for your past? I am so proud of them for the steps they took, and even for the steps they did not take because they needed to think deeply about it more. We taught them about integrity, and they took it seriously and did not rush to tell us all the ways they were going to be different without meaning it. I have great hope for them.
I also have hope for them because of the four ex-prisoners I worked with: two of our main facilitators, our prayer warrior, and Auntie Charmaine. They were such godly, fun, caring people. Only their scars and old tattoos betrayed their pasts. I was so impressed by Auntie Charmaine that I feel the need to move in with her after I graduate so she can mentor me and I can do ministry under her. It is truly said that a person can only be changed when they want to change. Prison can be a great space for people on the wrong path to be forced to reflect and determine if this is what they really want from life. When the brokenness is so deep, and the desire for change so desperate, then the change that comes can be breathtaking.
Thomas
 |
| Me and my guys listening to a talk on how to apologize and what repentance means. |
Another young man was really struggling with whether to stay in the gang or leave. I told him about Jesus's teaching that you cannot serve both God and money, and later was so encouraged to see him stand up in front of the whole room and say that he was finished with the gangs.
The most encouraging development of the week, was to see Fani (mentioned in the last post) become a Christian and how changed he was. And to get that happy birthday call from his victim! That doesn't happen! How awesome!!
On Saturday the first dialogue with parents really stood out to me. (Note from Tatiana: Saturday was family day. All of the students in the class were allowed to invite up to four family members. Most invited parents, but there were some aunts and uncles, siblings and cousins, and even a grandparent or two. The families were given the option of going to the front and asking their young men whatever they wished. Many asked questions about their crimes. It was heartbreaking. They were finally given the truth, but the truth was painful. One young man admitted that he had not murdered out of self-defense, it was an attack he initiated. Families were told for the first time how long the sentences were. Tears flowed, but so did forgiveness and love. Many families were frustrated and hurt, but they all expressed tenderness and every confrontation ended with a hug. Back to Thomas.) The first guy who's mother came up told her that he would take care of her and do everything he could to never hurt her again. I really believe in this young man and expect him to keep his word. All of the family discussions were powerful, but that first one with his promise really stood out to me.
 |
| Andrew and Cornel explain family day to the gathered family members |
 |
| A student, formerly a gangster, embraces his mother after promising to set a better example for his younger brother |
On day two I shared with the guys the major role crime had played in my life, and how I found God after many years of pain. I would like to share the story with you too.
I was once a victim of crime when I found my murdered brother in his hallway. We were very close in age, only thirteen month apart. Irish twins. I was further traumatized when the officers insisted that I sit in the hallway while they processed his body. I went into shock so badly that I couldn't write my statement when I went to the police station with them afterwards. This was even worse because I was the one who found my father after his fatal heart attack five years earlier.
To cover up the pain and help to cope with the PTSD I turned to alcohol. I would drink every single day, usually till I blacked out. Almost 90% of the time I would blackout from my drinking. After six years of surviving like this there was one morning that I was really angry. I probably consumed around twenty-eight beers in that day, which humans were never intended to do. At the party I was at I could barely stand up, but I still drove away. I was mad again so I hit the gas and was soon doing 100mph. My passenger warned me of the stop sign, which was followed by a corner I had no hope of making. The last thing I can remember before waking up again is crying out "Help me Lord!" Then I was pulling my head out of my windshield. Unbelievably I suffered no broken bones and wasn't even bleeding. One passenger was uninjured, another only suffered a broken elbow. This is after flying down a ditch and slamming into a tree. My steering wheel was bent from where my chest had slammed it, but I had no broken ribs. After getting to the hospital, the doctors first determined that I was really fine, and then discovered that my blood alcohol level was 2.2. I had drank enough for four people. I was put in cuffs before I even left the building. I thought my charge would be a minor misdemeanor, but with my injured passenger and my high alcohol level I was charged with a class B felony. The sentence was 3.5-7 years in prison. My lawyer told me to plead guilty, which I did, and I wound up only serving 120 days. The worst 120 days of my life. Once I got out I was allowed to transfer my probation back home to Boston. My probation officer told me that a stipulation of my parole was that I must check in with my new parole officer as soon as I got to the city, and I was not allowed to drink at all till I had finished my parole. I took the bus to Boston, and the first place I went was a bar. Which is insanity. I went to probation a week later, not that day, like I was supposed to. Later, after I checked in with my new parole officer he asked if three AA meetings a week sounded reasonable. It did and I went home and looked up my options in the pamphlet. Out of more than one hundred meetings in Boston, I chose to attend the meetings at Park Street Church. I felt great at those meeting, and thought it was the program. Then one Christmas Eve, when snow stopped me from going where I wanted to, I decided to attend the service at Park Street and there I realized that it was not the meetings, it was the church and the presence of the Holy Spirit. That was the day I gave myself over to God forever. This summer I am celebrating seventeen years of continuous sobriety. All glory be to Christ.
Afterwards a few of the guys thanked me, and some asked more questions. It was the first time I told my story starting with me as a victim, which was a healing experience. I told the guys that it is still hard to have the case unsolved though. It was great to be able to touch the guys with my story, and to invest especially in the four at my table. At the end of the week S. told me "Thank you for your kindness and your inspiration, and the scriptures you shared, and letting us hear your testimony." I plan to keep in touch with them by letter, and am glad I went on the trip.
Another week of restorative justice has come to a close, and I sit here in Boston, treasuring what I have seen. Inmates turning to faith, gangsters turning their backs on the Number, developing empathy for victims to the point of tears, and on it goes. The words describing what happened cannot capture the miracles that we witnessed, but we will try.
Once again, I had four wonderful guys at my table - Al, Lou, Tim, and Zack (not their real names). Al is soft-spoken, with a quiet voice and a shy, almost nervous smile. Lou spoke directly and thoughtfully, sitting back to think carefully and reflect before leaning forward to clearly share his thoughts. Tim is friendly, confident, and outgoing - always the first to share with a big smile. And Zack was quiet at first but began sharing more openly later in the week, though his slightly limited English fluency made it difficult to understand him at times. Leading the discussions at our table was Skwei - a good friend I came to know last summer in South Africa and last fall when he came to the US for an international conference on counseling correctional officers.
We shared a lot of stories about our lives with one another. One day in conversation, everyone at our table shared the view that crime is wrong and evil, the "right" answer that perhaps they thought we were looking for. And yet, everyone had committed multiple crimes, for which they were serving out a prison sentence. When pressed, we had a deeper conversation on the relationship between the "right" thing and our actual behavior, and how we can both know that an action is wrong and, at the same time, justify doing it. Al said he knew it was wrong but thought he could escape negative consequences if he was quick and was not caught, Tim said he knew it was wrong but it was the only way for him to gain respect in his community, and Zack knew it was wrong when sober, but lost his understanding and became angry and violent when drunk. And so I challenged them: they had one answer on the outside that landed them in prison, and were now giving me another answer during our session. What would their answer be when they got back to their cells, and when they got out? Would they still be involved in crime?
One by one, they gave me more honest answers. Tim said no - he had robbed people and been a contract criminal to fund his old lifestyle, but now had already left the gang, found faith, and turned his back on his old way of living. Zack likewise said no - he has committed to sobriety because he has seen first hand the damage that alcohol and drug dependence can wreck on his life and the lives of those around him. And Al said both no and yes - he knows crime is wrong and wants to be done with it, but at the same time, he has enemies on the outside, members of rival gangs and the family of the person he hurt, and he says it would be hard for him to sit idly by if they planned to take revenge by attacking him or his family.
In discussing our hopes and fears for the program, many people shared a common hope - to see the victim's side, to feel the victim's pain, ad to gain a better understanding of their victim's heart. One was afraid of speaking about their crimes in incriminating detail, another was afraid of seeing his victim face-to-face, and the third was afraid that the child of his victim would grow up without a father and enter a life of crime. And Lou, speaking with his characteristic honesty, said he was most afraid that the program would show him "the real me." I believe that it did, and in discovering his real self, Lou also found his faith.
One major topic that we came to over and over again was unconfessed crime - the sins of our past that we have not publicly declared or taken responsibility for. The facilitators reminded the guys that what they keep hidden they carry forward for the rest of their lives, and that the hidden crimes of their past would always haunt their future, threatening the stability of the new lives that they hoped to build. All the same, confessing the crimes of the past is not an easy thing to do. The guys told us about the lives that they were living on the outside, how they committed crimes on an ongoing basis to maintain their lifestyles and positions in their communities - dozens of thefts and armed robberies and more. Couldn't they be tried and sentenced to serve more time in prison for coming forward with crimes that they had essentially gotten away with? And wouldn't it make them even more enemies, as their former criminal associates are implicated in the crimes that they confess?
I was once a victim of crime when I found my murdered brother in his hallway. We were very close in age, only thirteen month apart. Irish twins. I was further traumatized when the officers insisted that I sit in the hallway while they processed his body. I went into shock so badly that I couldn't write my statement when I went to the police station with them afterwards. This was even worse because I was the one who found my father after his fatal heart attack five years earlier.
 |
| Me sharing my testimony and how crime has affected my life |
To cover up the pain and help to cope with the PTSD I turned to alcohol. I would drink every single day, usually till I blacked out. Almost 90% of the time I would blackout from my drinking. After six years of surviving like this there was one morning that I was really angry. I probably consumed around twenty-eight beers in that day, which humans were never intended to do. At the party I was at I could barely stand up, but I still drove away. I was mad again so I hit the gas and was soon doing 100mph. My passenger warned me of the stop sign, which was followed by a corner I had no hope of making. The last thing I can remember before waking up again is crying out "Help me Lord!" Then I was pulling my head out of my windshield. Unbelievably I suffered no broken bones and wasn't even bleeding. One passenger was uninjured, another only suffered a broken elbow. This is after flying down a ditch and slamming into a tree. My steering wheel was bent from where my chest had slammed it, but I had no broken ribs. After getting to the hospital, the doctors first determined that I was really fine, and then discovered that my blood alcohol level was 2.2. I had drank enough for four people. I was put in cuffs before I even left the building. I thought my charge would be a minor misdemeanor, but with my injured passenger and my high alcohol level I was charged with a class B felony. The sentence was 3.5-7 years in prison. My lawyer told me to plead guilty, which I did, and I wound up only serving 120 days. The worst 120 days of my life. Once I got out I was allowed to transfer my probation back home to Boston. My probation officer told me that a stipulation of my parole was that I must check in with my new parole officer as soon as I got to the city, and I was not allowed to drink at all till I had finished my parole. I took the bus to Boston, and the first place I went was a bar. Which is insanity. I went to probation a week later, not that day, like I was supposed to. Later, after I checked in with my new parole officer he asked if three AA meetings a week sounded reasonable. It did and I went home and looked up my options in the pamphlet. Out of more than one hundred meetings in Boston, I chose to attend the meetings at Park Street Church. I felt great at those meeting, and thought it was the program. Then one Christmas Eve, when snow stopped me from going where I wanted to, I decided to attend the service at Park Street and there I realized that it was not the meetings, it was the church and the presence of the Holy Spirit. That was the day I gave myself over to God forever. This summer I am celebrating seventeen years of continuous sobriety. All glory be to Christ.
Afterwards a few of the guys thanked me, and some asked more questions. It was the first time I told my story starting with me as a victim, which was a healing experience. I told the guys that it is still hard to have the case unsolved though. It was great to be able to touch the guys with my story, and to invest especially in the four at my table. At the end of the week S. told me "Thank you for your kindness and your inspiration, and the scriptures you shared, and letting us hear your testimony." I plan to keep in touch with them by letter, and am glad I went on the trip.
Abiola
Another week of restorative justice has come to a close, and I sit here in Boston, treasuring what I have seen. Inmates turning to faith, gangsters turning their backs on the Number, developing empathy for victims to the point of tears, and on it goes. The words describing what happened cannot capture the miracles that we witnessed, but we will try.
 |
| Skwei, Abiola, and Annette (the office coordinator) serve (and enjoy) coffee and koeksisters on family day |
 |
| The wonderful men at my table |
We shared a lot of stories about our lives with one another. One day in conversation, everyone at our table shared the view that crime is wrong and evil, the "right" answer that perhaps they thought we were looking for. And yet, everyone had committed multiple crimes, for which they were serving out a prison sentence. When pressed, we had a deeper conversation on the relationship between the "right" thing and our actual behavior, and how we can both know that an action is wrong and, at the same time, justify doing it. Al said he knew it was wrong but thought he could escape negative consequences if he was quick and was not caught, Tim said he knew it was wrong but it was the only way for him to gain respect in his community, and Zack knew it was wrong when sober, but lost his understanding and became angry and violent when drunk. And so I challenged them: they had one answer on the outside that landed them in prison, and were now giving me another answer during our session. What would their answer be when they got back to their cells, and when they got out? Would they still be involved in crime?
One by one, they gave me more honest answers. Tim said no - he had robbed people and been a contract criminal to fund his old lifestyle, but now had already left the gang, found faith, and turned his back on his old way of living. Zack likewise said no - he has committed to sobriety because he has seen first hand the damage that alcohol and drug dependence can wreck on his life and the lives of those around him. And Al said both no and yes - he knows crime is wrong and wants to be done with it, but at the same time, he has enemies on the outside, members of rival gangs and the family of the person he hurt, and he says it would be hard for him to sit idly by if they planned to take revenge by attacking him or his family.
In discussing our hopes and fears for the program, many people shared a common hope - to see the victim's side, to feel the victim's pain, ad to gain a better understanding of their victim's heart. One was afraid of speaking about their crimes in incriminating detail, another was afraid of seeing his victim face-to-face, and the third was afraid that the child of his victim would grow up without a father and enter a life of crime. And Lou, speaking with his characteristic honesty, said he was most afraid that the program would show him "the real me." I believe that it did, and in discovering his real self, Lou also found his faith.
One major topic that we came to over and over again was unconfessed crime - the sins of our past that we have not publicly declared or taken responsibility for. The facilitators reminded the guys that what they keep hidden they carry forward for the rest of their lives, and that the hidden crimes of their past would always haunt their future, threatening the stability of the new lives that they hoped to build. All the same, confessing the crimes of the past is not an easy thing to do. The guys told us about the lives that they were living on the outside, how they committed crimes on an ongoing basis to maintain their lifestyles and positions in their communities - dozens of thefts and armed robberies and more. Couldn't they be tried and sentenced to serve more time in prison for coming forward with crimes that they had essentially gotten away with? And wouldn't it make them even more enemies, as their former criminal associates are implicated in the crimes that they confess?
There were no easy answers to give. We can't promise that confession will be free of consequence. But I did remind them that somewhere outside are the victims of their crimes. And for those victims, whose crimes have long gone unsolved and who continue to suffer the lingering aftereffects of crime, they may represent the best hope for truth, resolution, and healing.
 | |
| Local churches and groups came in each day to share prayer and a home-cooked meal with the guys |
Tim wants to be a mechanical engineer, and has taken an engineering course through a program offered by a local college. Al wants to be an IT professional, and Lou is actively working on completing his secondary education, stepping away from our course for a few hours during the week to take an examination on his way towards a high school diploma. And Zack wants to find a stable job to support his family and begin a family of his own, before working his way up towards owning and running his own shop.
This is my second year assisting in restorative justice in South Africa, and we worked in the same facility as last year. I never thought I'd be grateful to return to a prison in the Western Cape of South Africa, but so I am. The day after family day, I was asked to preach a message of encouragement at the prison church service, where I had the joy of meeting many of the men that we worked with last year, including two men at my table. I spoke on Ezekiel and the valley of the dry bones, and shared with them my excitement at being called with a purpose to a new life, after spending a long time rotting away. It was a blessing to see my old friends and to encourage them, to remind them that we continue to think about and pray for them, and to carry their greetings back with me to America.
On our last day in prison, the day before Thomas and I left the country, I received special permission to visit the other two men at my table last year - Si. and Se. In the last year, I've spoke a lot about Si., how he lied to us in the first days of the program but was convicted to tell the truth, about his work as a hired murderer and his dark experiences with postmortem bodily desecration, and his radical encounter with the Holy Spirit that transformed his life and deepened my understanding of God's grace. Even before I left last year, I knew I was looking forward to seeing him again.
We met for about an hour and chatted about the last year, our lives, and our families. They are both sports players, and participate on teams that travel beyond the walls of the prison to play other teams in the regional leagues. Si. and Se. are both fathers, and last year each said that being a good father to his child is the good thing he has set before him as a motivation and goal. Se. is looking forward to a parole hearing next year, hoping to be released soon so he can find an honest job to support his mother and his child. And Si. is looking forward to his siblings bringing his daughter to visit him in the days ahead - the first time he will see her in years. They are well and in good spirits. Of all the kindness that was extended to me over my time in South Africa, I am especially grateful for the chance to visit with those two men and to see them well.
