my little piece of paper, and through tears and a trembling
voice, I said,
“God wanted me to give you a message:If you went to bed crying last night, angry at God, blaming Him for
why you’re here, He wanted me to tell you that He’s not the reason
for your pain or your problems. He’s the answer. And He loves
you.”Then a gear switched. I took it to the next level and boldly
powered through my story in less than twenty minutes to a
completely quiet and captive audience. I ended with, “If you
would like to ask Jesus Christ to come into your life today, to
forgive you, to fill you with His Holy Spirit, please just raise
your hand.”
In that instant, I was horrified! I had completely forgotten
that I was specifically instructed NOT to ask them to raise their
hands—each of them was in chains and the guards didn’t like
movement.
Almost the moment the words left my lips, two-thirds of the
boys and girls in the room raised their hands.
I looked at my dear pastor, my protective husband, a
speechless chaplain, and the not-so-friendly guards. But in one
unspoken moment of approval, our little team was given
permission to approach each child whose hand was raised,
kneel beside him, lay our hands on her, and pray with and for
them, one by one.
We had been given only one hour for our entire program—
yet at the end of sixty minutes, we had sung, delivered a
message, and individually prayed for every boy and girl who
had raised his or her hand.