Hold Fast

I just have a question: Why is it so easy to do wrong? Okay, so I have two questions: Why is it so hard to do right...all the time? I had that question posed to me yesterday by one of my co-workers who's thinking he may go back to prison. 


The easy answer is that it's because there is a God deficiency; that it's easy to do "wrong" when you don't recognize God's desire for your life. The difficult answer, I've found in witnessing to others, is telling them just how to do the right thing. What is there, a step by step manual for how to make the best decision you can everyday? OK, OK, those of you who are Christians are jumping up and down saying, "Yes, there is - the Bible!" 


That's true but to avoid polarizing my audience I just want to stick to my question(s). Why is it easy to do "wrong?"  I think it's because guys like me have been doing whatever we want for so long. We often don't change instantly over night, it's a process of putting ourselves in situations that led us to do right. For instance: I kid you not almost everyone smokes at the job site. I see it everywhere. Then, here at the halfway house I can't find a person who doesn't chew tobacco at night. Those both were a problem for me. I used to do them both - sometimes at the same time. 


In prison I could resist all that stuff because I had a core group of brothers who could/would watch my every move. It would be both difficult and impossible to get away with hiding it from them. So the temptation wasn't there at all. I'd have 5 brothers on me before I pulled the stamps (jail house currency) from my pocket. Out here? It's legal, it's everywhere. In most circles it's acceptable. I would never have wondered at the difficulty, or the easiness of a decision not to smoke had I not been faced with the decision everyday to choose not to. 


There really is no temptation for me concerning tobacco. That's so off putting to me now. For one because God wants me to stay healthy and two, I'm a distance runner and putting poison in my body doesn't sound delectable. My point though is that we all have decisions to make each day and the right ones become the norm over time. It's not an overnight process. "He who began a good work in you," the Apostle Paul said, "Will complete it until the day of Christ Jesus." And, he says again elsewhere, God is working out His plan in our lives according to His schedule. 


So if these decisions to do right come difficult, hold fast to the knowledge that we do have a Helper to aid us in life. I'm thankful that He's there because without Him that cliff I was headed for before Christ, would be the same one I crash over today if I didn't choose, in every decision, to do the right thing. 

February Sun

It was a rare spring like day in February and my family all gathered at the house on Genessee. Mom and dad were there bringing cheeseburgers. Grandpa was in town and there to show off his truck (A Ford, really?). Colton James was in tow, such a beautiful baby (fortunately he takes after his mom!). In addition were the 3 kids, Shawn the running tomato, Alex, Grayson (who is growing into a beautiful woman), Jack Cooper and April too. Beki and I played host to a house full. It was an amazing moment, a scene that I had dreamed of for many nights while behind the brick walls of Leavenworth. 

At one point I went upstairs all by myself. I had to collect myself, gather my bearings. Mostly it was to stop and thank God for His goodness. Some of  you can never understand this need to stop and wipe away the tears coming from my eye. Then again, some of you might. It comes from an overwhelming desire to be close to those I love. This is all a man ever dreams of behind bars. 
When I was living in sin I was caught in a selfish world. I cared little for anyone other than myself. If it didn't fit into my agenda or it didn't suit me I usually would avoid it with some lie or crazy tale I put myself through; all to avoid doing something for another person. This is sad considering how great my family really is. I guess it took prison to put that into perspective. 

In the middle of all this disregard for my family and the precious moments we could have shared together was people like my Grandpa. You see this man. He loves me unconditionally. Literally. He not once stopped loving me even in the middle of my own self-destruction. Oh, and you better believe he offered all the advice he could and the help he could to get me to stop. That's why yesterday, standing there next to him (in something other than khaki) was a moment of pure bliss for me. It was the start of me finally showing him I'm ready to give back, I'm ready to take life on God's terms and not my own. It was a time to embrace him, show him how thankful I am for all he is.

There were nights when the hurt of my failures kept me up. When all I wanted was to wake up and be standing in my front yard, surrounded by family and friends, loved ones and my wife. Those were the hardest times, the nights when I had all my decisions that led me to Leavenworth laid out in front of me; opened up and bare before my weeping eyes. A man, I found, never really discovers what's important to him until it is all torn away and he's pouring out his heart to God for just one day, just one day of closeness with Dad, Mom, Grandpa, Beki, the Kids. 

Then, then I wake up one day, after all that praying and pleading and I find myself standing in the midst of it so overwhelmed by it all I have the cheesiest smile donning my goofy mug. Tears of joy are coming and prayers of thanks are due. The funniest thing happens in that moment. I realize that life is really really really good. No matter the crazy political scene, the economy, Iran, Afghanistan, the state of sin...whatever. No matter any of that. All that matters is I love my family and crave more days when I can spend a Sunday afternoon with them, next to them enjoying the February sun. 

True Sustenance

Something told me to go to the 7-11. Used to be going to the quick shop meant that I needed some cigarettes or (this is terrible to admit) chewing tobacco. I would spend probably, on average, 500 dollars a month just at the "convenient" store. I'm one of those who go in and instead of getting exactly what I need, I grab up a drink, a candy bar, the latest magazine, a newspaper, some gum, oh and then there is some cool trinquet at the counter and might as well buy the value pack instead of just one. There were times when I would say to myself, "Just the smokes, nothing more - in/out."
Yesterday on the way to work my foreman said, "They sure know how to monopolize a city block." They being QuickTrip. I watch as every morning, like moths to a bug light my co-workers walk in and spend 8 bucks on literally nothing.
So I'm on a rant and don't know how that started.
Anyway. I asked Beki to swing by the 7-11. Why? I had no idea honestly. I didn't need anything (whoever "needs" anything from a conveniant store besides gas anyway?) so why I said it baffled even me. When we pulled up Beki decided to get gas for her little 100 miles to the gallon Yarus. As I contorted my way  out of this tiny contraption on wheels (still love me?) a man approached.
I walk nearly everyday through some pretty rough neighborhoods. I am around Troost, Prospect, and Peseo here in K.C. While walking through I get asked a lot for money as if because I'm a clean cut white guy I would have some. When in all honesty I'm as poor as most that are asking.
Now I'm not one to just hand out money that I don't have. So when people come ask - and I kid you not it happens about 10 times each day I walk through a neighborhood that has more boarded up houses than residents - I will give them a word of Scripture or hand them a card for employment resources I picked up in my search.

When this man at the 7-11 came up he didn't ask for money - he asked for food. Which means he was in need - genuine need. I told him I'd see what I could do and headed off in to by him a pop and sand which. While I did that I skimmed the recesses, of my mind, aided by the Holy Spirit, for the right Scripture. John 6:35 seemed fitting.

I don't want to drag on (any more) or seem like I'm bragging about the moment I had with this man named TJ who spends what little he has on his pregnant wife who was back home in their dilapidated squat house. It's not about me, or even TJ or the 7-11. it's about where Jesus was that morning and how I didn't miss the opportunity to preach the Gospel message to a man in need of bread.
Look around you. Do you see anyone who need's Bread? I'm mean the Bread. It happens everyday. We walk by hundreds of people, all busy on their way to the next task and how often do we miss chances to talk, to engage and discover the beauty in life through other people? TJ and people just like him are all around if we but stop and look. I just happen  to make myself available to the Holy Spirit that morning and was rewarded more so than I could ever have been spending 8 bucks on nothing.

Francis Chan

So I'm going to do my best not to look like a giddy little groupie right now but Check out this picture!!!!

Are you for real? So my boy Shawn Sanchez and I were totally hooked on what Francis was doing through his videos and books: Crazy Love and Forgotten God (Check him out at francischan.org). We used his work in Bible studies, modeled his approach to witnessing, everything he was doing we were hip to and just desired to live as a Jesus Freak like Francis was. 
The best was watching him talk about drinking a latte on his blanky while asking the will of God in his Forgotten God video. That inspired us to get off our butts and do what Jesus told us to do - not search it out as if it hadn't been written down 2,000 years ago!
We passed around this beat up copy of Crazy Love that Beki had sent in when she'd mentioned her brother Jake (missionary with Global Orphan Project down in Haiti) loved Francis Chan. I bet 100 different people went through that book - myself twice. 
Shawn and I also taught Bible studies inside there and we modeled a lot of our cirriculum off of the two books he published. My personal favorite was building a sermon off of his chapter on lukewarm faith - Don't be a Laodacian! 
Funny now Shawn is out in San Fran and he's - by the will of God - met Francis and not only that has become friends with the guy. That's only something that God could have worked out. But just as Shawn will tell you and Francis too, this isn't about two guys loving some famous dude. This is about Jesus. How effective can we be for the Kingdom? Can Shawn do it with Mr. Chan? That's what God seems to think. I think so as well. Shawn has an amazing light and as long as he lives I know He'll preach Jesus with all his heart. I only hope to do the same. 
That's what life's all about - Christ. He's the end all be all and I know if it means we can preach him a little louder with help from a man of Mr. Chan's stature - than may God be true! 

Careful For The Splash

Ever carry around a bucket full of water. One of those five gallon buckets you know? Dad would always have me grab a bucket when we'd go fishing, "Always bring a bucket Jeff." He would say as we were loading the poles. Yeah, one of those buckets, handy for carrying just about anything from your lunch to your catch for the day to paint to turning it upside down - which makes for a handy seat (that's the real reason dad always wanted the bucket loaded).
OK, you following me with just what kind of bucket? Well, if not just imagine a pale or something with a handle. Now think back to a time when you had that bucket (or pale) loaded with water and you had to get somewhere. Enevitablely that water would seem to splash out, some getting on your pants, your shirt and in the worst case your shoes.
Still with me. Now let me tell you a story. I was on leave from the Marines. I had my dress blues on, looking sharp as they come: fresh haircut, clean shave, sharp creases and a smile because I was headed home. Problem was my ride hit the airport in Reno at 2:30 in the morning, my flight didn't leave until 5. As any young gung-ho Marine would do I decided to "pull an all nighter." I'd thought it wise to just sleep on the way home.
The minute the plane was in the air I tilted the seat back (ever notice how little the seats go back in coach?) and grabbed my complimentary pillow and began to snooze. Lights out. Dead to the world. Ask anyone, I can sleep.
There's a trait I happened to inherit from my dad. No I'm not talking about the rugged good looks. Unfortunately this one I would rather throw back into the gene pool. What is it? Talking in my sleep. Yeah, I'll hold full conversations with random people as if I were wide awake.
So there I was sleeping,  fully comatose, decked in parade uniform, talking up a storm. There was a problem though, I was cussing like a...well, there really is no comparisons I can draw upon. When I finally woke, thanks to the frightened stewardess, I looked around and the whole plane seemed to have these looks on their faces as if they'd been traumatized. I wiped the drool off my lower lip and asked why everyone seemed to be looking at me and keeping their distance like I had leporasy. "Dude, you must have been going through WWIII in your sleep." The other steward...er, what do you call male stewardesses? - said. I screamed and shouted and cussed and fought with imaginary enemies in my sleep on this quiet 4 hour flight to K.C.
The bucket i used to carry around was the bucket of foul language, anger, and resentment. I had a bad habit of letting that bucket spill out in the worst situation imaginagble, like on a flight where the frightened children had nowhere to run "Keep the crazy man away from us mommy!'
Now, now that the Spirit of God lives in my heart, I don't cuss. So the bucket's contents are a little less muddy. But every now and again I forget that I do have some buckets I don't like to carry that are overloaded. With the help of Christ I'm dumping those muddy ones out and doing my best to keep the buckets clean with fresh water - Living Water.

Little Blue Bottle

It was sitting there, nicely placed as if lain by a gentle hand. Bright blue was its color and as the morning sun began to shine it sparkled just right to catch my eye and lead me to stop. I was on my way to work, a 3 mile walk. Along that walk I encounter so much, from nearly being hit by a car to talking about Jesus with a homeless person. This day was no different. I had yet to encounter my new friend on his way to scrap out his latest cart full of metal, must have been too early for him and it was exceptionally warm for a day in February; other than that, nothing was unusual. 

But this bottle. It was perched on top of beautiful green grass on the edge of Kansas City's Troost Ave. I was mesmerized for some reason, captivated by the sudden moment of clarity. It was this bottle that led my mind to race with ideas for how to better my world. "Why would someone throw that bottle there?" I asked. Just as quickly as I posed that question another came, "Why wouldn't someone pick the bottle up? Why don't I pick it up?" 
There it was. If I was going to do anything about my world, anything about my community, my family, my life, my church it would have to start with stopping, bending, and subsequently picking up this Bud Light bottle thrown out of a car and onto the grass of this beautiful apartment complex the government invested so much money in to help suffering families. Imagine, all it took was me making time to better this very tiny spot in the scope of the galaxy but a big spot in the scope of my view. 

God put me in no other place than that spot right there that morning. Here I was, able to contribute - however small - to the world in which I was a part of. Sure, I could have bypassed it and thought nothing of it. I could have ignored the fact that the trash can was a block away and I'd look pretty silly carrying a beer bottle at 8 in the morning down a busy street. And yeah, I could have said, "Someone else will get it." Yet, what would that have accomplished? I know the answer: Nothing. 
I have the chance everyday to do something. Be it picking up an insignificant beer bottle off a public sidewalk or picking up a kid to make him or her feel loved. There are so many opportunities in a day to make a difference. And they may seem so small that we ignore them, thus getting nothing done. But if you're like me you want things to change with our world, you want things to start changing for the positive. I must tell you as I told myself staring at this little blue bottle, it starts with me. It starts with my actions every single day. So, what do you say? Have you passed a little blue bottle lately? Well, pick it up!

Rules to live by

I'm 30. For those of you who've been there then you know how tough it is to say. I sat down this morning and thought to myself, that in all my years of living what are some rules that I've picked up along the way. Now I know you've read many lists like this before but just read; hear me out. Maybe mine will be unique - maybe not. But I just felt compelled to write about rules that make me who I am. Maybe you'll better understand who I am by seeing how I live on a daily basis. So here's my 30 rules (subject to change) for living.
1. Life is short - hold nothing back.
        - Eat, drink, dance. Never cease to have fun
        - Life is long however, pace yourself
2. Invest your time in others
        - Don't say hurtful things, say encouraging words
        - Build others up, speak positively
3. The time is NOW! 
        - Love boldly, pray always, live fearlessly, take risks
        - Don't hesitate to seize the moment
4. Ask questions - Be curious 
        - Never think you have it all together
        - Others enjoy sharing their intelligence - encourage that out of them
5. Assume Nothing
        - People are not mind readers
        - Be clear. Articulate your desires
6. Learn to say no - and mean it
        - You can't please everyone
        - you can't be all things to all people
        - Say Yes to life (cf. #1)
7. Look with a positive perspective 
        - There are really good things to see in this life
        - Don't talk about how bad life is, talk about how good you got it. 
8. People Matter, not things
        - Things break, possessions whither, don't let your connection to your stuff put enmity between you 
           and someone else. 
        - Friendships are eternal
9. Shut up - pay attention
        - Turn off your cell phone
        - Look at the people who are speaking in the eye
        - Don't fiddle with "stuff" (cf. #8)
10. Be sincere
        - When you say something - mean it
        - Apologize and then act like you mean it
        - Don't be sarcastic. No one likes sarcasm
11. Be Humble
        - Learn to say, "I'm sorry." 
        - Winning arguments makes you a loser
        - Above all, don't ever, under any circumstances or assumed pressure, brag
12. Mind your manners
       - Say: "Thank You; Pleas; Excuse me; May I; Yes sir/mam; God bless you." 
       - Thank others for their service to you and the community (no matter the profession)
13. Don't hesitate to offer help
       - Be the first to jump up
       - There's always time to stop and help - you're never too busy 
14. Never leave a conversation not mentioning Jesus
       - He died for you - live for Him
       - Fit it in, there's always a way
15. Don't talk about the glory days
       -It makes you sound old and bitter
       - They weren't that great anyway
16. Exercise, Exercise Exercise
       - Running is awesome - try it if you can
17. Set goals - Go after them
       - Be someone with a purpose
       - Be a visionary
18. Forgive, Forgive, Forgive
       - Don't hold a grudge; don't desire revenge.
       - Be merciful as your Father in Heaven is merciful with you
19. Smile at everyone
       - People love a smile, makes them feel at ease
20. Say "Hi" to all who pass
       - Never go unnoticed 
21. When you ask, "How are you?" Mean it.
       - Don't ask and then not listen (Cf. #'s 8&9)
22. Offer to pray with someone as well as for them
       - 9 times out of 10 you'll forget by the time you get home.
23. Remember names
       - Don't be afraid to ask for it again...and again...and again
       - Say someone's name often, makes them feel close to you
24. Mean people suck
       - Anger gets you nowhere but alone (Cf. #'s 8,11&12)
25. If you love someone - say so
       - Tell them often. Say it everyday
26. Never leave a conversation angry
       - What if it was the last thing you ever said to them?
27. Help those in need
       - Give to the homeless. Spend time with children. Sit with the elderly.             Assist the widowed and orphaned
28. Volunteer
       - You always have time. 
       - Find out what you enjoy helping with and do it at least once a week
29. In all your getting, get knowledge and understanding
       - Knowledge we acquire is for other people - share it
       - Knowledge is power. God loves those who seek to understand Him
30. Laugh at yourself
       - Don't be too serious - people love to laugh
       - People make mistakes and decisions are in the past - forgive yourself. 



       -

Watch and Wonder

I've seen God move in some outstanding ways. I've seen men so drastically transformed from a life of immorality and debauchery and whatever other hell fire preacher verb you come up with. This life of waste leading to nowhere and getting them put in situations where everything was taken from them. Then, when faced with the thought of being stripped of all your possessions, losing the presence of your family, and then thrown in a room where you're forced to sit and think about all the crap you've ever done that led you to the place you sit, God comes in and moves. 


It seems He works best when we're stripped of every resource that can get us out of the trouble we find ourselves in. I mean, when there is an outlet we can turn to that isn't God (not necessarily un-Godly) we'll constantly resort to our familiar safety net. Be it a phone call to mom, a trusty bail bondsman or a delusional girlfriend who will put up with more abuse than she deserves. (There is a lot of that in jail believe it or not)


This outlet that we run to when times get tough - again, that isn't God - only seems to cloud over our true need. Like painting over mold, the crap that kills us is still underneath no matter how beautiful the color. We need to first clean the mold before we go seeking to make the room better. That's kind of what jail/prison does for a lot of men and women who go. They are stripped of the resources that lead away from God when in need of safety and are now face to face with the reality that slick talk, a pitiful story or a threat to a girlfriend will not work. 


I was faced with that going to prison. Before it was a matter of claiming I didn't do anything, I was a victim and they had the wrong guy. At the end of the day however when they said, "Jeff Lee #08758-030" it was me and I was the guy locked behind a forty foot wall and told that if I were to ever try to leave my life was not worth a warning shot. America had a problem with my behavior; literally all of America, that's why the court document said United States VS. Jeffery Thomas Lee. How can little ole me ever talk my way around that reality!? 


I couldn't so it was either accept my fate or fight against it. I'll write someday about what those who struggle against it end up like but for now I'm going to let you keep reading, keep watching, and you'll see what a guy who had it all stripped away and ran straight to Jesus turned out like. 

What If???

I'm Talking with Shawn who's out in San Francisco. He's been so blessed to run across Francis Chan. Mr. Chan is systematically changing the world for the better. The project they're involved in can be found at  sfcityimpact.org . I imagine what we could do if all of us had the heart to reach out and grab hold of the lost and hurting, the broken and needy. What would our world look like? What if we made the effort to change it?


I was talking with Ralph Maser my mentor and coming up with really good ideas for how to impact this community. I know that God has great things in store for me and that I can and will do something big. That starts, however, with making the right decisions all the time - even in those moments when no one is looking. 


Beki and I were joined by my future mother in-law Pam for church this morning with about 3-500 others. It was one of those mega churches. I'm not a big fan of those. To top it all off they were hooping and hollering for God and I'm more of your conventional worshiper: hands held high, deep in prayer. I looked around and saw all these bodies having what seemed like a Holy Ghost, Pentecostal-esque experience. Now to avoid making an unwarranted claim to this churches outreach ministries - because I'm not privy to their activities in the community - I want to make a general statement. 


What if those same people who show up to get crazy on Sunday got out this afternoon and hit the streets with shovels, rakes, extra food, clothes, coats, hugs, genuine concern? What if they, instead of getting all excited in Sunday service got excited on a Tuesday afternoon skipping their lunch break to hand out hot dogs on a city street corner? What if? What if we actually started to see that Christianity is not about Sunday morning? Christianity is about Thursday night. Christianity is about Friday morning. Jesus, I'm pretty sure, never wanted Sunday to be the only day for service.


What if, as another example, we took the men who sat around all day on Saturday and Sunday in this halfway house and put a bag in each hand and had them walk around the blocks in the area picking up trash? What if they used us to paint buildings, trim trees, paint curbs, cut grass, rake leaves? Yet here we sat wasting away watching a Saturday Night Fever Marathon, to include the sequel Staying Alive. Talk about a waste of time!! 
These are ideas I have. They may be grand but I think a business minded man like Ralph could find a way to get it all done and spend as little money as possible. We have to do something - anything!


It needs to happen, it has to happen or we'll all be sitting back watching the evening news asking ourselves, "What went wrong with the world?" when really we should be asking, "What if...?" 

What To Do

I sat in the stuffy chow hall that had lettuce covered floors from the hungry "clients" (that's what they call us) who have lost all concern for the cleanliness of the institution. I stared down the long table. I sit in the same spot every night, back against the wall, chair at the head of 4 tables lined with men who have scowls on their faces. Another night eating this food shipped into us, taken out of bags and heated up. The flavor isn't the reason for the scowls, it's the portions. These helpings wouldn't fill a church mouse.

There are 4 guys that eat with me each night. 4 ghetto gangsters who think guns and Tupac are better than textbooks and Jesus. They have as many tattoos as chips on their shoulders. I reach out to them every night. It often starts with a piece of cake. I want the cake no doubt but I learned fast in prison the key to striking conversation up is to give your food away. It's a small sacrifice compared to the joy I have of sitting with these men. Yeah their conversation is vulgar, they talk about the most insane of subjects and they objectify women constantly. But that's who they are - that's who I've met and where they are the moment I worked my way into their lives with just a piece of cake. Oh, and the other day it cost me a P.B. and Jelly. That was a struggle to come off of.

Yet the spiritual reward I get from sitting with these guys is more than any meal could ever satisfy. I get something so much more filling. Tonight I nearly broke through with the really angry one. He always stares me down in that mean prison stare. Tonight as neither of us made a move to look away he was the first to nod - Breakthrough!

I mostly sit at the end of this table and analyze the people I'm with for the very reason I want to change their lives. I want to give them some sense of hope that they don't get from this miserable halfway house we're all stuck in. There are no opportunities for anyone here and I think to myself, "What would I do if I owned this place?" What would you do?

Would you do it like they do and ignore these "hoodlums" because they might cuss too much or they might look really mean? What would I do if I could do anything?

I'd like to think I would be the first to give up my piece of cake in order to gain their trust. I'd like to think I would be the first to offer up my coat, a ride, my jacket, a pair of shoes, anything to better their lives. I'd like to think at the very least I'd remind them that there is a God who loves them more than they could possibly imagine. So much so that He died for them. Better yet - He conquered death for them by rising from the dead so that they may have life, "and have it abundantly!"

So, what to do? You answer that question next time you have the chance to give up a piece of cake

Work In Progress

Bear with me. I'm new to this. To go right on in and jump around on a computer can be difficult if not an outright challenge for a guy just coming home. You'd be amazed at the difference in the web and your basic computer systems in a small span of 3 years. 
With that being said, also as a work in progress is this blog. I don't know how to use it. Should I write crazy prison stories (with a touch of exaggeration of course. Wouldn't want petty things like "truth" or "facts" get in the way of a good blog!) or should I just talk about what comes to mind. Believe it or not my best writings come from the moments when I have nothing on my mind and I sit to type. Like this morning. Nothing really profound has been impressed upon me in such a way I have to get it out. Really I'm kind of foggy minded and have no since of direction. 
So what's the difference than any other time? I don't know where this thing is going to take off. Personally I have to admit this blog - really like anything I do, is a way to promote what's good in the world by showing how I got through some really difficult obstacles and kept a positive attitude when the dust settled. No I haven't trekked the Himalayas nor have I fought the stormy seas of the Atlantic. I don't have stories like that. But I have been faced with trial and difficulties that seem to cause nothing but a stronger resolve in me. 
For the first 26 years of my life I chose to create the trials. I chose to make terrible decisions that would harm myself, cause hurt to my family and break solid relationships that I bet would be so beneficial now had I never been a fool. Those choices, namely the bar fight in Muscatine, IA, have caused me years of frustration and constant battle to overcome my record. This 30 second altercation has caused me 5,6, maybe even 7 years worth of clawing to get back on top and a lifetime of shame when I go to fill out an application.
Point being, if there is anything I can do to get my story out there, the story in which I came from the depths of depravity to surrendering to the Lord and King Jesus and it keeps one person from going down that same path - I've accomplished exactly what I set out to do. A life of violence, anger, hate, whatever you can think of that's harmful to self and others, is no way to live. I lived angry for a long time. No more. Today I choose to move forward. Dean Karnazes' motto: No matter what, keep moving. I'm going to keep on keeping on a la Joe Dirt and never let circumstances or my past dictate my emotional response or my goals for the future. Because after all, that's the only thing I can control; the only thing I can ever say I have power over is my response and my drive. 
As I write I ask you to bear with me. There really is no theme, no direction other than what goes on in this guy's crazy brain. One day I could write about prison, the next my love for Beki, maybe then my parents unwavering forgiveness and then, who knows, maybe I'll tell you about that one time I fought wild beasts in the jungles of India.  

Why 42 Steps?

"Take a good look at da scenery." The guy shackled to the seat in front of me said as the white gov't van made its way down Main street. "Yeah, take a good look at dem leaves and dem houses and da cars...the trees too. Yeah, take a good at dem trees because dez the last trees you eva gonna see until you get out from behind dem walls!" 


Pulling up to the massive stone structure placed perfectly on a hill overlooking the Kansas and Missouri plain I was in total shock. Nothing can prepare you for the sudden mass that comes into view. It looked as though the whole thing stretched a mile long - half a mile one way, half a mile another; in the center a great big dome coming out of the foundation. 


"As soon as you get in there you're going to have to get a knife. No, get two because the guards are going to take the first one." This coming from the guy shackled next to me. The two juicing us up were both traveling from the CCA down the street; warrant holds out for court writs. "And you don't want to be in Leavenworth without a knife." 


His words only added to the already mounting fear coming from the many stories a kid growing up in Kansas hears about this place I would now call home for the next 3 years. No matter how great my fear, I didn't want to show it - no sir. I figured if I would show fear it'd be a sign of weakness and next thing you know they'd take my shoes, my coat, my pants, my socks... OK, maybe not my socks but I knew I'd need my shoes. Seems the guy in the front seat of the van however didn't hold to that motto - either that or he didn't care who took his socks. "I'm not supposed to be here!" He cried out in a a cracked voice. "I'm supposed to go to the camp. I can't go behind those walls. That's not where I'm supposed to go!" His voice broke and I could see the tears well up. Funny trick the guards pull actually. They put the camp people in the same van as the ones going behind the walls. Probably to get the campers to act right by saying, "I'll throw you behind the walls if you..."


I can't vividly recall my first walk up to the R&D door but what I did notice off to the right was the massive staircase leading up to the front entrance. Later, on visit, my uncle Buck Langsford would count each step on his way to see me and he'd never fail to remind me of the count: 42. Yeah, 42 steps lead up to the Leavenworth penitentiary. That's why I chose to call my blog 42 steps. I was scared to death going in and  I'll talk about more of my times in there as I write. I plan on authoring a book by the same title; out by years end. 


It was only through God's grace that I made it without having to buy two knives and it was by His mercy I was set free down those 42 steps a man forever changed by his experiences. Some for the bad, many more for the good. Looking back I wouldn't change a thing of it. Not the ride there nor the first days of utter terror as I built in my head that this place was going to be really bad.