by Sara WevodauIt was the week after Amy had prayed for legal miracles in the jail with the women and I was there to find out what might have happened. Not surprisingly, two women had experienced exactly that. One had been given custody of her son. Another had her sentence shortened when a mistake was found in her paperwork (they rarely re-read paperwork, but she had asked a question they couldn't answer).
As I listened to their excited stories, a new woman with dark circles around her eyes who was listening turned to me, saying that she was considering forgiving her mom for 26 years of pain in her life, but that pride was getting in the way. So the woman whose sentence had just been cut down and I were all ears. The more we talked, she seemed to be realizing the way her unforgiveness was keeping her from experiencing freedom and healing in her own life, even though it gave her a kind of power to hold her mom at fault for the very real ways she was wronged and abandoned. She was realizing that unforgiveness is a tremendous burden to carry and Jesus' invitation to throw it at his feet was looking more and more attractive.
But she was self-conscious, didn't want to pray in front of people. She would do it later that night, alone. So we asked if we could pray for pride and shame to get out of the way and for the courage to follow through. By the time we had finished praying for her and blessing her, she had suddenly changed her mind and wanted to pray right then. After assuring her that it was okay not to close her eyes and that there was no right way to do it, we put our heads down on the table so she could not feel watched, just supported.
What proceeded was one of the most beautiful unreligious prayers I've heard in a long time. She chose to not only release her mom and to bless her, but entirely unprompted, said, "Jesus, I want to walk through the gate of life with you and have you with me instead of the heavy things I've been carrying."
When I lifted my head, there were tears in my eyes. "Did I do it right?" she asked. "That was so powerful," was all I could reply.
Over the next ten minutes, I watched this woman changing before my eyes. She was suddenly smiling, visibly lighter, asking me to teach them all a song that they could sing while they clean the jail at night. Her releasing had released her--and she was putting a face on forgiveness in a drastic way, turning into a new creation right in front of me.
So while she's locked up the next five months for identity theft, will you pray with us, that a new identity as a child of God would spread out in Cindy* and strengthen her for a hard life on the outside.
*name changed
