Meeting Jesus in Jail

“And one of the malefactors which were hanged railed on him, saying, If thou be Christ, save thyself and us. But the other answering rebuked him, saying, Dost not thou fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation? And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds: but this man hath done nothing amiss.” Luke 23:39–41 (KJV)

Guilty, convicted, and sentenced to death, he had a chance encounter with Jesus, the Savior who saves. What was different between him and the other prisoner? Both were guilty, both sentenced to death, yet one cried out, “Remember me.” In that moment, despite how he lived, despite being guilty, the Lord remembered him.

An empty prison cell reflecting solitude

“And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom. And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, Today shalt thou be with me in paradise.” Luke 23:42–43 (KJV)

Oh, the joy of being remembered, the joy of crying out, the joy of being saved.

A joy I know all too well. In September 2008, I was on the run and wanted by the police, facing a 20-year sentence for attempted murder.

Just a few hours earlier, I was hidden, alone, hopeless, and guilty. My grandmother called out to me and asked me to attend church with her. Being from a small town where news travels fast, I rejected her invitation. “Grandma, if I go to church, someone will call the police, and I will go to jail for the rest of my life,” I stated sorrowfully. My grandmother did not give up.

Thirty minutes later, I was surrounded by my grandmother and my two aunts, who began to evangelize to me. They told me God was a keeper, that He would keep me, that He would protect me. I angrily accepted their invitation to church, but I let them know that I didn’t agree with what they said about their God.

I remember yelling, “Where was God when my mother died? Where was God when it came time to save my uncles, both sentenced to 20 years? Where was God when I needed Him? You want me to believe your God can save me?”

Finally, I said, “I’ll go to church, but first I need to do my hair.” I knew the moment I stepped into that church, I would go to jail, and I didn’t want my mugshot to look crazy. I did my hair, dressed in fancy new clothes, and went to church for my grandmother, not for their God.

While in church, the pastor preached a sermon that I took no interest in. I was there for my grandmother, and that was it, or so I thought. Toward the end of the sermon, the pastor said something that seemed to shoot lightning through my heart. He said, “So many people are willing to praise God after He works it out, but who’s willing to praise Him before He works it out?”

My body leaped from my seat, my hands lifted, my heart softened, and I began to cry out. I couldn’t control myself; my actions weren’t my own. When he called for an altar call, I walked up unashamed but broken and in need of a Savior. I walked to the altar and gave my life to Christ. At the same hour, I was baptized by water.

Under I went, tormented and without peace; out I came brand new and full of peace. The war that was raging inside of me was gone, and the only thing I felt was peace and Christ’s love.

The moment I changed into dry attire, there was a knock on the door. “Who is it?” I asked. “The police,” they replied. I opened the door to find two officers waiting for me. They told me they were there to arrest me, but if I promised not to run, they wouldn’t embarrass me by putting handcuffs on me. I promised, and they walked me out.

To my surprise, the once-filled church was empty. Outside of the church, all eyes were on me. The entire congregation was outside to witness me being arrested. I wasn’t embarrassed. The peace I had received shielded me.

At the station, I said I didn’t want to make a statement, and I accepted my fate. I told them the freedom and peace I had just found in Christ would keep me. “May His will be done,” I said.

Oh, did His will get done? From the county to the penitentiary, the love of God found me. Jesus met me in jail! The warden was a believer. Prayer boxes, Bible studies, and justice-impacted individuals came into the prison, testifying about the redeeming power of Christ.

The Journey That Brought Me to Grace

August of 2008 was the end of an emotional, physical, and spiritual war. For months, I wrestled with the feeling of war raging inside me. It felt like I was fighting a battle with myself, but I was losing. I didn’t know then what I know now, but that war was me wrestling against the salvation prayers being prayed for me.

I was an emotional, angry, defeated, and broken woman. I seemed to carry a dark cloud over me. I turned to alcohol, attempting to escape the unbearable pain of being a motherless child alone in an unfriendly world. Surrounded by betrayal, struggle, and heartbreak, I made a decision that would follow me. I committed a crime that caused tremendous pain. That night, after I committed the crime that put me on the run, I remember hearing a voice that laughed at me, saying, “Hahaha, I got you now,” and everything went silent. I now know the voice I heard was the voice of the enemy.

My Moment of Transformation

In a prison room full of 17 prisoners, I prepared to call it a night. Like I did every night, I decided to go to bed early. I climbed up on the top bunk to read the Word of God and say a prayer before I went to sleep. It started out normal. I read the Word and then went into prayer.

While in prayer, my body became engulfed by the power of the Holy Ghost. I began to speak in an unknown tongue, and the presence of the Holy Spirit fell on me so heavily that I evaded time. For 30 minutes, I prayed uncontrollably. My spirit cried out in a way I had never experienced. Once the Holy Spirit lifted, I was able to lift up my head. I saw 17 women astonished by the move of God in that room. I later came into the knowledge that that night was no ordinary night. That night, I was filled with the Holy Ghost.

Hebrews 13:3 (KJV)Remember those in prison, as if you were there yourself. Remember also those being mistreated, as if you felt their pain in your own body.

Are you willing to remember the guilty, those who are bound and in prison? You are needed in the byways, highways, and prisons. There is a man, a woman, perhaps even a child, in need of the message of Christ.

A Charge to the Body of Christ

The story of the thief on the cross reminds us that grace can reach the darkest places and that salvation is never out of God’s reach. The same Jesus who remembered a condemned man on Calvary is still meeting men and women behind prison walls today. They are not beyond redemption; they are the very ones through whom God displays His greatest mercy.

The Body of Christ must rise with compassion and conviction to give those who have met Jesus in jail a chance.

Many who were once bound are now free in spirit, carrying testimonies that can shake nations. Their experiences with God are raw, powerful, and real. They need mentorship, discipleship, and opportunities to serve.

Let us not turn our backs on those whom God has already called His own. Let the church become a bridge, not a barrier. There are future ministers and leaders behind those walls waiting for someone to believe in their transformation. Like me, some need spiritual parents, supporters, accountability partners, and much more.

As Christ remembered the prisoner on the cross, so must we remember those who have encountered Him behind bars.

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