As I’ve shared, I have been participating in a prison ministry for over a year now. Since I started going with a group of ladies into our county jail once a week to conduct a Bible study with the inmates, I have had many profound experiences, but few as deeply moving as that which I had tonight.
As part of our program, we issue stick-on name tags to the inmates as they come in — we also wear them — so we can get to know them and call them by name in our discussions. The training videos we watch to be cleared to enter the jail lead us to believe that anything could be fashioned into a weapon or lock pick, so as per the rules of the jail, we must carry out everything we carry in — everything. I always take a box of Kleenex in with us (as sometimes things get a little emotional) and we even collect the trash. So, at the end of the night, we have to collect those name tags from the inmates.
When I ask for the name tags, I always feel like I am humiliating them. By the end of our session, we have usually had a wonderful time sharing the Gospel and ministering to these ladies, then as we leave, the act of collecting these name tags seems to remind everyone of the reality of their situation. I know it seems minor, but it has always felt yucky to me.
So, one night, about a year ago, as we were finishing up, an idea struck me out of nowhere. I asked them for their nametags and told them that I was going to keep them as a reminder to me so I could pray for each and every one of them by name during the week until we came back. I always pray for them, and have told them so, but after we leave the session, I picture their faces in my mind, going around the circle, face by face, from memory, but usually cannot recall each woman’s name. As they handed me their name tags tonight, I applied each to a piece of paper and promised that I would look at that paper and pray for them every day.
As one young lady handed me her name tag, she watched as I carefully placed it alongside the others and she looked at me, with tears in her eyes, and said, “You will really pray for me by name?” As I looked back at her, we shared a silent exchange that touched me very deeply. She was genuinely surprised that anyone would care about her — maybe it had been a long time since she felt that kind of compassion. Perhaps she never had.
“I promise,” I replied, “every day, by name.”
Just like that, a previously uncomfortable and demeaning chore was transformed into an uplifting and inspiring act of love. As believers, we pray for “the sick,” “the poor,” “the lost,” “our leaders,” “the troops,” and such, and all that is good. But prayers for a specific loved one who has been stricken by cancer, or a brother who has lost his job, or a spouse who doesn’t know Christ, or the pastor of our church, or a deployed cousin, each by name demonstrates a greater sense of intimacy and urgency in our prayers. Picturing the face of a person as you pray for him or her by name makes it very personal. I am honored to be able to give that simple gift to each of these ladies.
As one who plans every detail of every day with agendas, schedules, and to-do lists, I was impressed that one of the most profound experiences I’ve ever had resulted from a spontaneous idea. In that moment, I was reminded that even though I may not have boundless financial means by which to bless people, I do possess a powerful blessing I can share with others — genuine compassion.
Ever since that night, we’ve been using this practice of collecting the nametags at the end of every session and using them to inspire us in prayer throughout the week, giving a measure to those ladies we are serving.
I have called you by name, you are mine. ~Isaiah 43:1