FRONTLINE LOVE

My schedule was extremely tight, so [at the prison] after we finished "Amazing Grace" we said our good-byes and began filing out.  We were crowded into the caged area between the two massive gates when we noticed one volunteer had stayed back and was with James Brewer in his cell.  I went to get the man because the warden could not operate the gates until we had all cleared out.

"I'm sorry, we have to leave," I said, looking nervously at my watch, knowing a plane stood waiting at a nearby airstrip to fly me to Indianapolis to meet with Governor Orr …

"Oh, yes," the volunteer looked up.  "Give us just a minute please.  This is important," he added softly.

"No, I'm sorry," I snapped.  "I can't keep the governor waiting.  We must go."

"I understand," the man said, still speaking softly, "but this is important.  You see, I'm Judge Clement.  I'm the man who sentenced James here to die.  But now he's my brother and we want a minute to pray together."

I stood frozen in the cell doorway. It didn't matter who I kept waiting… Anywhere other than the kingdom of God, that inmate might have killed that judge with his bare hands -- or wanted to anyway.  Now they were one, their faces reflecting an indescribable expression of love as they prayed together.

Though he could hardly speak, on the way out of the prison Judge Clement told me he had been praying for Brewer every day since he had sentenced him four years earlier…

Taking the gospel to people wherever they are -- death row, the ghetto, or next door -- is frontline evangelism.  Frontline love.  

 -- Charles W. Colson in Loving God

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