(For those interested in this series, click here for Part 1, here for Part 2 and here for Part 3.)
“Despite all the denominational distinctions I’ve come across along the way, for the life of me, I cannot find any other litmus test Jesus insisted upon to authenticate his followers except love.” Jim Palmer in Divine Nobodies.
I was 22 years old the first (and last) time anyone ever called me “Church Lady”. The irony is far too thick to go into here without getting waaaay off topic. Sadly, I know exactly what you’re thinking…
No, not that Church Lady.
You’re not the only one who thinks that this name, for me, was insane. I kept looking around at who the inmates were talking to.
They were talking to me.
Weekly, I went to be locked into one cell with a group of female inmates at Houston County Jail in Warner Robins, Georgia. The fact that I had a Bible and was loony enough to be locked in with them, got me some respect immediately…so much that they took to immediately calling me “Church Lady”. I corrected them a few times, but they didn’t seem to care about my birth name.
Each visit was different.
Some visits I’d just listen. Other visits we talk about life or a Bible verse. One of the older “Church Ladies” liked to travel with a boom box, so some times we’d sing. While other weeks it would be desperate requests, “Church Lady I need you to pray with me, my parole hearing’s tomorrow and I gotta get outta here.” We’d form a circle, join hands and pray our guts out.
One visit the warden counted me in the headcount which would mean I’d be an “overnight guest”. The ladies thought it was hilarious. There one was lady, the Church Lady, that didn’t find it quite so funny, “Warden, I’ll be going home tonight. Ladies, I’ll see ya next week.” (Peacin’ ya out!)
One visit (outside of almost being locked in overnight) I’ll never forget. One woman, whom I’ll call Rose, asked if we could talk privately. Not sure “private” could actually happen in a single cell filled with about a dozen ladies, but I agreed. We went to the corner of the cell and she said, “I have to ask you something but I need your home address.”
“Rose, you know the rules, that’s just not allowed.” My heart ached telling her no because she was always so kind and we’d come to be friends.
“Church Lady, PLE-ASE. I can’t talk about it here and I need your help.”
Listen, I know it was against the rules…but I gave her my address anyway.
A very relieved Rose responded, “Thank you sooo much Church Lady, I’ll write you soon.”
What did I just do, Lord?
Days later, Rose’s letter arrived.
There were two papers in the envelope. On one, Rose drew a beautiful hand sketched rose. Art was her gift and that was her way of thanking me. She didn’t know it, but roses are my favorite flowers.
She cut right to the chase in her letter, “What does the Bible say about homosexuality?”
I knew exactly what Christians said about homosexuality but I hadn’t the foggiest idea what the Bible had to say about homosexuality. I’d only been a Christian for a little over two years and never researched it before.
So, I dug.
I wrote Rose back that same night and asked her to look up and read the handful of scriptures that I wrote down. I couldn’t send it off without telling her how much Jesus loved her and how honored I felt that she trusted me with such a question. She had moved to another facility before our next visit and we never had another communication past my return letter.
I don’t know what difference, if any, I made in Rose or the other ladies lives…but I can assure you what a significant difference that they all made in mine.
At the time I visited that jail, I was in a jail of my own. I felt the fire for Jesus inside of me, but was trapped in my old party lifestyle.
I knew the Bible said in 2 Corinthians 5:17 that, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”
I didn’t feel like a new creation…I felt like a hypocrite. A hypocrite that participated in jail ministry. More irony…
At the time I hung with the Southern Baptist crowd on Sunday mornings…not on Friday and Saturday nights, no, those nights I preferred to “have fun”. No matter how hung over or how much sleep I didn’t have Saturday night, I’d make it to church every Sunday morning. Sometimes, I brought the boyfriend that I participated in the “flirt to convert” ministry with.
Well, one Sunday morning in that Southern Baptist church, I realized that Rose and I weren’t so different. We were both struggling and didn’t feel safe in our circle of friends. While I’ve never struggled with same-sex feelings, I have struggled with revealing my current struggles amongst my circle of friends.
Sometimes, I still do.
First, what’s your favorite flower?
Second, do you have a difficult time telling your current circle of friends your struggles?
And, HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY TO YOU BUB-BA-LA! 
