You Could Tell

You could tell by his voice, his voice gave him away. The name "Boston" stuck on him. It fit... You could tell...

You could tell by his "cellys" accent that he was indeed from the south. The rebel south...

The "white pride" tattoos that sleeved his arms and the hatred that peppered his speech gave him away. The name "Skitz" stuck on him. It fit...You could tell...

You could tell from the arguments that echoed up and down the cell block that something was brewing... that a fight would soon be ensuing... You could tell.

You could tell they clashed, but then again; I overheard "Boston" offer "Skitz" a Bible. I guess you could call it a peace offering...You could tell.

You could tell that he was trying to calm the storm, to appease the situation, to pacify the problem. You could tell that he was trying o be a "Peace Maker"...You could tell...

I thought about that verse, "One of the Beatitudes"; that Jesus taught in the Sermon on the Mount; He said: "blessed are the "Peacemakers" for they shall be called the children of God."

You could tell that things were about to explode. I could tell that the Holy Spirit was prompting me to act. I could tell that it was His still small voice beckoning me and pleading with me to tell them of His love for them. For BOTH of them... I could tell...

But, I hesitated, I reasoned, I rationalized, I couldn't tell...

You could tell from the sound of his voice that it was "Boston" His voice gave him away. You could tell that he was being choked, strangled. It sounded as if he had a mouth full of gravel: scratchy, hoarse, desperate...

You could ell that he was pleading for his life. Like a five year old child whose abusive parent doesn't know when to stop the co called disciplining... You could tell...

You could tell that it was over... You could feel the silence...

You could tell the guards were coming. You could tell that others thought it was funny. You could tell that they didn't care if he was dead or alive... You could tell...

Now, all I am left with is "What if?²

What if I had told them? What if I hadn't reasoned? What if I hadn't rationalized?

What if?

Would it have made any difference? Would it have helped? Would it have hindered or even stopped the foul spirits of hate and rage that run rampant and roughshod in these walls of concrete and steel?

So what stopped me? FEAR?

Fear of what others might think of me? Fear of being labeled a "Holy Roller" or "Preacher Boy"? or "Jesus Freak"?

I could tell you that it was none of my business, but, Jesus would tell me, "He was your brother".

I could tell you, to each his own, but, Jesus would tell me "They are all my own".

I could tell you, they made their bed, so let them line in it. But, Jesus would tell me, "They made my cross but I hung on it".

I could tell you, that's life, asi es la vida que'no? But, Jesus would tell me, "They are my life".

I could tell you that this is the penitentiary. But, Jesus would tell me, No, this is your mission field".

I could tell you any of these excuses, but, that's all they would be...miserable excuses...You could tell...

So, what will happen the next time? Will I tell? or, like a coward, go back in my shell and hide in my cell?

What about you?

Would you tell?

Or, like Jesus, You could tell... "Blessed are the peacemakers".

You could tell them of God's love for hem. You could tell them that He has great plans for them. You could tell them that He sent His Son to die for them. You could tell them to look at Jesus' hands stretched wide on the cross saying "I love you this much"...You could tell...

Or, you could sit back and do nothing at all. Adding another missed opportunity to your "What if list". But, remember this: The devil will remind you day in and day out of your "what ifs"...They are his ammunition...They can haunt you...

So, stand up and be counted the next time. YOU CAN DO SOMETHING! and don't say you can't...

You could tell...