come, risen Lord. teach us your resurrection

I have been writing Eugene for about three months now. Eugene is living on North Carolina’s death row, where he’s been condemned by the state to die for a crime he may or may not have committed. Our writing relationship started slowly, but as any friendship, we grew more comfortable with one another over time. I had been meaning to visit him in prison for quite some time now, but had been too “busy” (which really means that I was subconsciously putting it off). Walking into a prison to spend an hour talking to someone you barely know is a daunting task. But that is where I found myself today. This past Thursday, I made an appointment to come visit Eugene (or Teddy as he likes to be called), and had been thinking and praying about it over the weekend. And I have to say, I was a bit nervous about the whole thing.

The visitation process isn’t as onerous as I thought it might be. When I first arrived, I was asked to check in and get a visitation pass. Once the time came for my appointment, I simply walked to the main building, showed my photo I.D., got in an elevator, went up, and stepped out into the visitation room. Pretty simple. I was directed to room number five, where Teddy was anxiously awaiting my visit. As I walked in the very small concrete and poorly lit visiting room and sat on the small stool, I was immediately greeted warmly with a big grin through a glass and steel wall. All anxiety about the visit dissipated. All nervousness in my stomach gone. The conversation started and didn’t stop for an entire hour, when the guard came to notify me that my time was up. Teddy and I covered a spectrum of topics with our conversation, which flowed as naturally as the Mississippi River from one subject to the next. What struck me was the familiarity of the whole thing. Sure, there were a few awkward pauses, but overall, I felt very much at ease talking with Teddy. And I think I have a hunch why.

Christ said that when we feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the prisoner, it is as if we are doing it unto Him. I’ve preached this for years, but the full impact did not hit me until I walked into a small room and talked to Christ through a veil of glass and steel. Maybe this is why my nerves were settled.; why it felt so familiar. I have been proclaiming my faith in Christ for 17 years now, and yet very seldom have I sat in His presence as I did today at Central Prison in Raleigh, NC. The death penalty ceased to be an issue for me and it became real. It was given a face. It became a friend‘s struggle. It became Teddy’s - no, it became Christ’s struggle.

Our Lord was executed at the hands of the state, and I believe He understands well the struggle of men and women facing death at the hands of our state. To visit the prisoner is to spend time with Christ, and to stand against the execution of a fellow human being is to proclaim that Christ has brought life to all and that death no longer has power over us. This is why I oppose the death penalty. Sure, there are many other great reasons to oppose the machinery of death. But Christ’s death and resurrection have shown us that death is no longer needed and we are invited to share in the life of the Eternal One, and this is what compels me to say "NO" to the sacrificial killings to the god of vengeance and hatred.