War Photographer: Ed Cyzewski

War Photographers is a curated mix of stories from people working on the front lines: how do we share the hard stories that aren’t our own? To learn more about the series, click here.

 

Today we get to hear from Ed Cyzewski, famous to many in the blog-world. He himself would say it wasn’t all that radical to feature the voices of women in ministry on his highly succesful blog, but the truth is that he is one of the few evangelical men who are outspoken in their appreciation for diversity in dialogue. I have always loved how Ed constantly uses his “platform” (again–a word he hates) to let others speak. Today he writes a bit about a world that many of us no nothing of, yet contributes to the broken stories of many. I appreciate his honesty in detailing the way we choose to write off, or ignore, that which we don’t understand.

 

 

What I Saw in an Inmate’s Eyes

What chance would you give a middle-aged African American man who has been imprisoned
five times and is about to be released again?

I used to write this type of guy off. I mean, he just can’t get his act together. At least we’ve got a
prison to keep him off the streets.

Stan changed my perspective. I met him while volunteering for an Alpha course in a prison.

All of the younger inmates were drawn to him. He shared advice, encouragement, and whatever
lessons he had learned. He wasn’t proud or arrogant. In a prison culture where you need to act
tough and together, he was the odd man out with his humility and compassion for others.

How did this guy end up in prison five times already?

Stan and a small band of inmates regularly joined me to pray for about 20 minutes at the end of
each Alpha session. I quickly learned their stories.

Abuse and neglect from their parents started things out. Then impoverished neighborhoods with
few opportunities for success took over. With no mentors and no visible opportunities for work,
they turned to drugs and alcohol. Relationships with family members and friends were already
under tremendous strain, but substance abuse made things worse.

By the time these men broke the law, they had been broken in so many ways. Prison only
served to break them further with the extreme hostility and tension among the inmates and
guards.

Where does someone go to pick up the pieces? If you don’t have a stable family to return to,
you’re going to return to the same old neighborhood where all of the same demons are still
haunting you.

I can’t do justice to the stories of these inmates, but I want to tell you about something I saw as
we prayed.

I saw men with fear in their eyes. They wanted to make it. They wanted to get their lives in
order. They knew the odds were stacked against them and that failure is almost inevitable.

At least two men said it bluntly, “I’m afraid of being released. I’ve got nowhere to go, and I’m
afraid I’ll just get into trouble again.”

They were specific with their prayer requests. They knew what would trip them up.

As we sat down to pray in our battered folding chairs in a dirty all purpose room lined with old
televisions and rusted folding tables, I felt the weight of their past, the shame of their present,
and the despair of their future.

These men came to God praying that God would save them from themselves, helping them
become better people who stopped inflicting pain on others. For all that I know about God’s
salvation, I’ve also never faced something quite so daunting as what these men carried with
them.

Make no mistake, there are some horrible people in prison, people who delight in the power of
causing others suffering. Some are mentally ill. Others have been wounded first and learned
that way of life. There is no excuse for violent crimes.

I just want you to see their eyes for a moment. I want you to see the pain and the fear. Their
eyes don’t change the past for anyone, but they tell us a deeper, more complicated story. They
show us that there are some trapped people who can’t find an escape hatch. If they could,
they’d use it in a heartbeat.

I like prison ministry because it cuts through all of the grandstanding Christians are tempted to
do. A guy in blue prison scrubs can comb his hair nice and wear a cool pair of sneakers or sport
an impressive tattoo, but even a prisoner on top of the inmate pecking order is still in prison.
You can’t act like you’ve got your act together for long—especially if you’re going to open
yourself to the Holy Spirit.

While volunteering in that prison I never felt like I could write about it. I didn’t want these men
to become a writing project. As I look back on them, I think of their struggles and uncertainty. I
pray for them. The reality is that many of them will end up back in prison. Change can take time.

I don’t know how Stan’s story ended. I moved away and then the prison closed. But let me tell
you what I hope…

During one of our last conversations, Stan shared his plan. He’d been in touch with a pastor,
and the pastor and his church were going to help him find a job. Once he saved up enough
money, he wanted to start his own business. His plans were far more detailed than anything I’ve
ever done in my life. I’m sure he was one of the few inmates with a legal career path mapped
out for his release.

I pray that Stan connected with that pastor.

I pray that this church helped Stan find a job.

I pray that Stan will launch his business someday.

These are wildly optimistic prayers that fly in the face of common sense. They make about as
much sense as ordering your entire life around a man convicted and killed for treason 2,000
years ago.

 

 

Ed Cyzewski blogs at www.inamirrordimly.com where he shares imperfect and sometimes
sarcastic thoughts about following Jesus. He is the co-author of Hazardous: Committing to the Cost
of the Following Jesus and the author of Coffeehouse Theology. Find him on twitter: @edcyzewski
and on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EdCyzewskiWriter.

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8 thoughts on “War Photographer: Ed Cyzewski

  1. J.R. Goudeau says:

    Ed, I loved this piece. It’s interesting what happens when you get past your pre-conceived notions and start really SEEING people. Thanks for sharing this (excited about this series, D!).

  2. Caris Adel says:

    My dad used to volunteer for prayer ministry at the jail and he had some of those same experiences. It created a lot of compassion in him, and us. Thanks for sharing what you learned. It’s situations like this that make me feel so powerless and helpless.

    • Something that helps me is remembering how many years of negativity and failure need to be healed. sometimes God heals us on the spot, and other times the big wounds of the past need a lot of time to heal. I see “progress” so much differently now with this kind of stuff. I’m just grateful they came to pray in the prison, it was a huge step toward healing even if they had far to go.

  3. Ed, thank you for sharing with grace and respect. You honor Stan and his friends, you honor us. This is what good story-telling ought to do, put truth out there that invites us to see each other truly. Love how you see into their eyes and call them friends. Your writing challenges us to do the same… see into their eyes (and world), befriend them with our presence and prayers. Blessings.

  4. Greg Strannigan says:

    One of the finest pieces of writing that I’ve come across.

thoughts?

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