One of my inmate correspondents sent me a sample Sunday bulletin from his church fellowship at the Texarkana facility. It looks pretty much like a bulletin from my local church. But there is this extra je ne sais quoi.

I read under the letterhead: “Pray for deliverance from strongholds in your life, and we will celebrate communion expecting strongholds to be broken through the broken body and shed blood of Jesus Christ.”

There is something sharp and clear about penitentiary Christianity. These guys don’t pray about “sin,” they pray about “strongholds.” The term connotes protracted trench warfare, and an awareness of its Spiritual dimension with a capital “S” — as in these words of the Archangel Michael: “The prince of the kingdom of Persia withstood me twenty-one days, but Michael, one of the chief princes, came to help me, for I was left there with the kings of Persia.”

It’s a funny thing when you first realize that a lot of Bible teaching and imagery you used to think was literary and metaphorical turns out to be truly true. It reminds me of the hucksters of the god “Tash” in C.S.Lewis’ The Last Battle, who thought they had made up “Tash” to exploit the ignorant masses — only to discover he was real and about to devour them.

The best kept secret in the country is what God is doing in prisons. Troy is in a state facility in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. He is a “lifer” who shares this story: A prison is a universe with its own set of laws. Old timers guard their places in the pecking order; newcomers (“fish”) vie to establish theirs.

In prison you do a lot of walking “on yard.” The sidewalk ringing the perimeter here is only wide enough for one to pass. Troy, a man in his early 40s, is strolling in one direction, the new inmate is coming toward him from the opposite. In a moment, when they reach each other, one will have to give way. How will Troy handle it, as a Christian?

The moment of truth arrives. The cocky fish approaches. Troy steps down off the curb. For a split second, this is victory for the whippersnapper. But as the younger man begins to pass, triumphant, Troy gently but firmly grasps his elbow, looks him in the eye, and says: “How is it goin’?”

The love of Christ: meekness — from a position of strength.