Jesus continued to teach me, but I would soon question – is it possible to have a good life doing everything His way?

Returning to Tubman from work one afternoon, I found a young woman named Allie weeping alone in the dayroom. She was new to the prison and I didn’t know her well, but I was concerned. I sat beside her and asked, “What is wrong?”

She wiped her eyes and sniffled. “I went to pick up my canteen order today and it wasn’t there. I guess it was a canteen mistake and my order wasn’t filled.” She began to cry again. “It wasn’t much, but I needed those things! I haven’t washed my hair in weeks.”

I noted her greasy hair she’d tried to fix nicely. Her clothes were also in need of washing. My heart ached for her and all the women here like her. “Don’t be sad!” I told her. “God can use this for good!” She looked unconvinced.

Just then Jenny walked by. “What’s going on?” she asked. I filled her in quickly. “I have some extra supplies in my room,” she said and turned to leave, bumping into Sally. “Sorry Sally,” Jenny added, and then filled her in, too. Sally also wanted to help. Soon a small crowd formed. The table before Allie filled with needed supplies, and even a few treats. Now Allie cried happy tears, unable to believe her eyes. I headed to my room, thoughtfully.

High canteen prices combined with low prison wages encourage inmates to violate a rule called “passing,”  which bars an inmate from giving anything to any other inmate, ever. Once a woman asked me for a phone number and, writing it on a piece of paper I gave it to her. Immediately a guard challenged me; it was against the rules to pass someone a piece of paper. Nevertheless, most (if not all) inmates and even some guards give only a token nod to these rules. After a few days in prison, I agreed – these rules were impossible to obey and remain sane. 

Back in my room I sat and read in Proverbs 31, a chapter describing a godly woman, which said, “She opens her hand to the poor and reaches out her hands to the needy.” An idea formed. “Jesus!” I said excitedly, “I want to help the poor and needy, too! I want to be a godly woman.”

“I’m glad,” Jesus answered me. “I care about these people and their circumstances. Let’s talk about it.”

I barely heard Him. I was busy imagining myself as the hero to poor people, a modern day Robin Hood. I opened my closet. ‘What can I give away?’ I thought. ‘Well I don’t want these socks,’ I said to myself. ‘And I don’t need this notebook….’ Eager to be seen as generous, I ran out the door with my extras.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jesus said. Watching me go, He sighed.

An hour later I was giddy but out of gifts. I returned to my room thinking, ‘How can I be more generous?’ 

I hadn’t asked Jesus the question, but He interrupted, “That wasn’t actually generous.”

‘Nonsense,’ I replied automatically, thinking I was talking to myself. I turned my attention to new ways to help the poor.

Instead of talking with Jesus, I discussed it with my parents. They brought the matter to their church and soon I was donated money. Carefully I kept track of all canteen receipts, adding up money I’d spent on others to be a good steward of what I’d been given. If I haven’t made it clear yet, what I was doing clearly violated prison policies. I didn’t care. 

One day Jackie approached me. I’d helped her with canteen items recently and she wanted to know if I would help again. As was typical, she requested basic hygiene items. Two weeks later the items arrived. Leaning on the wall across from the canteen window, we all waited in line. Jackie, ahead of me, stepped up to the window and gave her name. The worker hefted two large bags onto the counter. Staring in shock, I pushed away from the wall to get a better look. Seen through the clear plastic bags were junk food, hobby craft items and other extras. Delighted, Jackie accepted her order and stepped to the side.

I eyed her bags in dismay, the order easily totaling over one hundred dollars. ‘If she had money, why did she ask me for help?’ I wondered, so I asked her.

“I wanted to buy treats!” Jackie answered. “With your help I could.” Looking away I said nothing, feeling foolish.

Later in my room I prayed, “Jesus, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“Let’s take a walk and talk about it,” Jesus answered. 

“Ok,” I said, and we headed outside. The sun was warm on my face, a lazy breeze ruffling my shirt. We joined the other women walking a circle around the exterior of the courtyard.

“Holly,” Jesus began, “think about this. Does a soldier head off to battle without instructions?”

I pictured a battlefield, hundreds of soldiers all running to fight with their own strategy. It was chaos! “No, I guess not,” I answered as we passed the picnic tables.

“I am in charge,” He continued. “Do you believe this?” I wanted to live like I did believe it. I said so. “Great!” Jesus smiled. “Let’s sit at a table and I’ll show you something.”

I navigated to an empty blue picnic table and sat. “Open your Bible to the book of Romans,” Jesus said when I was settled. I opened my Bible and began reading. Jesus immediately brought my attention to this verse: “He who resists and sets himself up against the authorities resists what God has appointed and arranged. And those who resist will bring down judgment upon themselves [receiving the penalty due them].” Romans 13:2

“How is it even possible to have a good life here if one obeys all these rules?” I wondered allowed.

“Take it as a challenge,” Jesus said. “And ask Me for help.” I could almost hear Him smiling. So my obedience took a new focus, a humbling one. I resolved to stop “passing.”

Soon I found this was difficult, even dangerous, as I began the next morning at breakfast. “Are you going to eat your boiled egg?” the lady seated beside me asked. Our mealtime was nearly over, and it still sat untouched on my tray.

Tensing, I considered how to answer, finally responding with a quick, “No.” I looked away, hoping to dismiss the conversation before it went further.

Instead she asked, “Can I have it?” pointing at the egg on my tray. My eyes followed her hand, staring at the egg. Now I was finding a new reason to hate them. I swallowed a lump in my throat and answered another quick “No.” I braced myself for her response and wasn’t disappointed.

“What! How rude is that! It’s going into the trash. What’s wrong with you?” Slapping the table for emphasis she stared at me, demanding I explain myself. Heads turned at the commotion, others began to stare.

Face burning, I pushed my tray in her direction and mumbled, “Just take it. Whatever.” She grabbed the egg and turned away. Ashamed, I hoisted my tray and made my way to the dishwashers, hoping to prevent another request. I resolved to do better next time.

Next time became harder than I expected, as this time it was me who wanted something. I love cake, love it. While in prison I was determined to attend every meal that served cake, including muffins and cornbread (they resemble cake). It was 2 days later, and I’d missed breakfast. Hungry, I anticipated lunch all morning and quickly ate it when I got to the cafeteria. Finished, I realized I was still hungry and would have to wait another 10 minutes before the prison announced movement and I could leave the cafeteria. My eyes roamed the room, spotting several women apparently on a diet and ignoring their cake. My stomach was quick to note that their cakes appeared more delicious than the one I’d been given. Thick layers of frosting and luscious sprinkles met my eyes.

Determined not to pass, I sweated bullets, waiting for the announcement to leave. Cake continued to be ignored nearby, growing more attractive as my time to eat it grew short. Arguing with myself I sat, tortured. Unable to resist any longer I asked for someone’s cake, which was quickly handed over without thought. Guiltily I ate it while yelling at myself. Why was following rules so difficult?

This struggle went on for months and months. If you’ve ever attempted to quit smoking or stick to a diet, it felt as difficult as that, and I wondered why God would cure my rage instantly yet fail to provide me quick success in this.

While I begged God for help, I began keeping records of my daily successes and failures. I hoped this accountability method would encourage me to do better. I had a prison tablet which included a calendar app and I logged my success or failure each day. I’d stare at passed weeks filled with evidence of obedience followed by a day of messing up. It was so frustrating to see those failures! I began to recognize the depth of my sin nature. Again, I read in Romans: “I can will what is right, but I cannot perform it…For I fail to practice the good deeds I desire to do, but the evil deeds that I do not desire to do are what I am [ever] doing.” Romans 7:18-19

During this time I had a conversation with a guard about passing. I cannot remember how the topic came up, but I clearly remember her saying flippantly, “What’s so difficult about not passing?” Wrestling to obey this rule for many months, I was surprised by her lack of insight. She saw the misery here as clearly as I, couldn’t she?

Thinking back I recalled one winter the air was especially dry. Canteen was out of lotion week after week. I began using hair conditioner instead, layering it over my arms and legs until it, too, ran out. Women who still had lotion began selling it at high prices. My skin itched painfully for weeks. For temporary relief I’d sit in a hot shower. Fortunately the prison had a never ending supply of hot showers, but this made my skin dry out worse. I was miserable. I would have traded anything to feel better.

Another time came to mind when my tooth became infected. The dentist was available one day a week and while I waited my face swelled terribly. Pretty soon I had lockjaw and could barely drink fluids. In agony, I barely slept. I had no pain medications and would have gladly accepted them from another inmate if offered. How does such a needy person overcome their own painful suffering for the sake of an arbitrary prison rule? It sounded impossible to me.

As I continued to try over the next several months Jesus began to correct wrong beliefs and attitudes of mine that held me back. At first I confused wants and needs. Jesus taught me the difference. “I really need coffee!” I said to Him one morning. 

“Do you have coffee?” Jesus responded.

“Well no. That’s why I’m telling you,” I said.

“Your heavenly Father knows what you need before you ask Him,” Jesus replied.

I began reminding myself, ‘If I don’t have it, I don’t need it.’ I also began to tell myself, ‘If I have it, I need it.’ This included some things I wished would go away, like suffering. This gave me strength to stop asking other people for things. I still struggled not to give things. I feared being disliked when I said no.

Jesus had a great plan to eliminate this fear. “I’m going to show you how to help the poor and needy without breaking rules,” He told me. I couldn’t imagine it. “Trust Me,” He said. I did.