-Matthew Graziotti, United State Penitentiary Tucson in Tucson, AZ
I spent many years remodeling my small starter home, painstakingly ripping out the old and slowly rebuilding as time and funds allowed. I rebuilt the bathrooms, completely redesigned the kitchen, and replaced all of the closet shelving.
From painting to gardening, I plugged away at the never ending to do list. It was not only fun, but rewarding when a project was finally completed, and I could enjoy the fruits of my labor. There were plants still in starter pots and products still in their original packaging, when all my efforts came to a screeching halt in July 2014.
Now, nearly ten years after my arrest, I look back with mixed emotions and contemplate the renters who enjoy my former residence, oblivious to the sweat and toil that shaped their current environment. One renter, upon moving out, and angry that she lost her security deposit for damages done, proceeded to cause further harm.
She ripped an expensive digital thermostat off of the wall, tore down an ornate ceiling fan, and broke the venetian blinds that once adorned the windows. Should I see it as a mercy then that barring any changes in the law, I will never see my house again? Perhaps.
I was born in 1971 with the same genetic disposition toward sin that inhabits all of us. After countless years of resistance to urges I’d developed as an indulgent and undisciplined childhood, I finally broke and gave in to my sinful desires. I was wrong and the word of God was right. The pleasures of sin do indeed only last for a season.
When God decided my season should end, He lovingly intervened, and His chastening led to my permanent removal from society. I now approach my tenth year behind bars. I’ve learned a lot in that time. Aside from how to survive in a violent penitentiary, God showed me a way out and back to life in the right relationship with Him.
He gave me the opportunity for true repentance and a return to the life that he intended for me from the beginning. I don’t pretend to understand exactly why. You’ll have to take that up with Him if it bothers you. I only know that I’m eternally grateful for His mercy. From day one, I was fully aware that God’s hand was behind my arrest, and while the FBI was still rifling through my material possessions, I knew what I was supposed to do.
That very day I recommitted my life to Him, to fight for purity, and to rely on His strength to never again cave in to worldly appetites. With His help, I’ve been doing so ever since, and I have no desire to turn back ever again.
I caused a lot of pain and needless suffering to myself, to others, and to the cause of Christ. The shame and regret I feel is a daily struggle for me. I shake my head in disbelief when I think about the depth of depravity that marked nearly a decade of my life. The voices of the nay-sayers still ring loudly in my ears:
“He’s a menace to society!”
“How could you do such a thing?”
“People like you can never be cured!”
“He’s only sorry because he got caught.”
I don’t blame them for their outrage. In some ways I’ve felt the same about others. It’s natural to get angry at the sins of others, especially when we can’t relate to them. When a person fails, there’s no lack of negative commentary. But the voice that should be our focus, and the one I’m most concerned with, is the Lord’s. It’s what He says about me that matters most.
While He says I was conceived in sin, He also says I’m fearfully and wonderfully made. Though He chooses the foolish to confound the wise, He says I was chosen according to His purpose before the foundation of the world. I wake up every day in a world that’s quick to remind me of my past. I live every moment of my life surrounded by society’s outcasts. Everywhere I turn, I’m reminded of the consequences of my sin, and it’s hard to press on as Paul said.
The voices of politicians, radio hosts, and society resound with scorn and ridicule in a seemingly endless cacophony. It’s deafening! If the government has its way, my life will end in prison. It’s defeating! Yet, the masses cheer “lock them up and throw away the key!”
While my heart cries out with the Psalmist, “Restore us, O God.”
I miss my home. I miss my loved ones. I miss my son. I pray for God to restore that which sin has taken from me, to restore some purpose for me in this world, and to restore my church family to me. In all that I’ve lost, perhaps the most important for me right now is the church and it’s the church to whom I write.
I’ve read through the bible many times, and I’m always amazed at how passages I’ve read on numerous occasions suddenly stand out like never before. God has a way of directing our attention to exactly what we need to hear at just the right time. Now that I’m in prison, I can’t help noticing phrases such as “remember the prisoners.”
Recently I did a study on Hebrews 13:3. “Remember the prisoners as if chained with them – those who are mistreated – since you yourselves are also in the body.” The body here is a reference to the flesh, as if to say “You too understand physical and emotional pain.”
As I pondered the passage, I looked up the word prisoner in the Greek and found it to be a passive imperative, an unusual verb. My goal had been to discover who exactly was represented by prisoners and what exactly remember was calling believers to do. I found similar references in the Old and New Testaments. I thought I’d discover that it meant persecuted Christian prisoners only, or perhaps those wrongfully convicted of crimes.
To the contrary, I found no such dis-qualifiers. Prisoners seems to be all inclusive. And in searching for the who and what, I stumbled on the how. You see, when a subject, in this case believers, does the action of a verb, it is in the active voice. This is not the case here. When a subject receives the action of the verb, it’s in the passive voice. It’s the difference in saying, I threw the ball (active voice) versus “he ball was thrown (passive voice).
In the passive, the ball does nothing itself. It receives the action of being thrown. An imperative is a command, such as throw the ball!
So why is all of this important? Well, we don’t use passivity in giving a command. It’s contradictory since it calls the subject (believers) to perform a specific action, and I couldn’t understand how this was supposed to work.
I asked the Lord to help me understand since my knowledge of Greek is limited. I have no cell phone, no internet access, no pastor to call, and no meaningful biblical resources available to me. If an answer was to be found, it had to come from God. Imagine my delight while lying in bed the next evening, listening to the pastor of a well known church in Chicago who took the time to elaborate on another word using the same construction.
In my excitement, I almost missed his explanation. The following is a paraphrase to the best of my recollection of what he said. A command is simply that. A command. You do it. If the Bible gives us a command, we obey it. Nothing more, nothing less. However, the passive voice adds an interesting dynamic to the command.
In a sense, it indicates the power to perform the command is outside of the one commanded. They don’t perform the action per se, they receive the action. As they submit themselves to the Lord, He performs the action through us. How beautiful is that? The power to obey is outside of the one being commanded. It rests solely in the One giving it.
Many prisoners are very unlovely people. We’ve done some awful things and in many respects, we deserve the disdain of society. In spite of this, believers are commanded to remember those in prison as if there with them. It falls in line with the biblical command to love others as yourself. It’s not an easy task if we are honest about it but it’s a command, and it takes Christ in you to do it.
In Matthew 5:43-38, Jesus quotes an Old Testament passage and dispels the religious leader’s perversion of it that said to “love your neighbor and hate your enemy.” He countered, “I say to you, love your enemies…”
Love here is no feeling. It’s an active imperative verb. It doesn’t always feel good to love the unlovable, but we’re commanded to do so. In Luke’s account of the story (Luke 6:32) Jesus says, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them.”
For many this is a lot to ask. Loving a stranger is one thing, but loving an enemy is getting personal. And honestly, it’s going to be impossible to do without Christ. Asking you to remember the prisoners, especially if their actions have had a negative impact on you, may be offensive to you. If this is the case, I sincerely apologize for my own and ask for your forgiveness.
I know that I approach this subject with some level of bias. Unfortunately, it’s not a popular message, and no one else seems to be talking about it. It needs to be said. I grew up in a church, and in fifty-two years I can recall only one message on the topic.
There are many Christians in prison who need the body of Christ more than ever. Books are nice, but it’s your words that we need the most. It’s your love that makes a difference, and your forgiveness that heals and refreshes the soul.
Prisons are no walk in the park. They’re crowded and filled with constant noise and violence. I grew up hungry and poor. I know how to do without, or with very little, but I had a big family and I was never truly alone. Prisons may be overcrowded, but they are some of the loneliest places in the world.
The people we care about the most are too often hundreds or thousands of miles away. Prison chapel programs tend to be just that, another government program. They are run by a government official, offer little in the way of spiritual nourishment, and frequently promote false doctrines.
Prisoners who’ve been shunned by family tend to seek love and attention in the wrong places. Few churches outside of prison offer their support. The vast majority that do try to get involved only go so far as sending in bible study materials. These resources would be much more effective if they were presented in a face-to-face setting by a Christian volunteer.
We were designed by God to connect with others, not to be alone. We need the body of Christ, that body we are part of as believers. Christ is my head, and I have unique gifts given by God for the edification of the saints. Unfortunately, I’ve been cut off from the body and I’ve yet to know restoration. I am a foot or a finger with no body and I hurt because of it.
Loving prisoners is no easy thing to ask and is sure to come with some public ridicule. The world expects you to choose sides, usually that of the victim. But the world is not our master. God’s word teaches us to love all, even the unlovable.
With roughly 1.3 million prisoners in the United States alone, it shouldn’t be too hard to connect with prisoners near you. Occasional correspondence or visits mean far more than you could ever imagine. True believers are plentiful in prisons and long for the right hand of fellowship.
I no longer get to enjoy my earthly home. The sound of the hammer and drill ended years ago, but the remodeling goes on. My body is the temple of the Holy Spirit. My heart is God’s throne. My mind is being renewed day by day. Christ is building his church, and that church includes more than just those gathered in comfortable pews on Sunday morning.
It includes the sick and infirm, the elderly shut in too frail to leave the safety of home, and it includes the prisoners cast off from society. Some will make excuses while they are not the solution to the problem. Others will scoff and mock me because they’re fully aware of my sordid past. Jesus too was mocked, even to the end. But one man heard the message loud and clear. At the point of death, he cried “Lord, remember me when I come into your kingdom.”
Jesus replied “…you will be with me in paradise.”
So, I ask, how will you remember the prisoners today? What will your response be?