As we walked into the courtyard, the noise surrounded us. Inmates were crowding against the cell windows, yelling and banging on the bars. The mix of desperation and chaos was overwhelming. 

This was our first time inside the prison in eight months. COVID-19 restrictions had eliminated all rehabilitation programs, religious services, and even family visits. The young women in this section were lonely, afraid, in need of basic sanitation supplies. But today, they were mad…because only twenty of them were allowed to attend church, and they all craved the connection. 

I have seen people lining up for hours to get into church when a famous preacher or worship band was visiting from overseas, but we are anything but famous and the women were not chasing a label. They were simply desperate to experience God’s presence in a community of believers. They longed to gather in the courts of the Lord and receive encouragement from His word and His people. 

Am I that hungry? Sometimes I’m short with my kids when they interrupt my quiet time…but it’s not the same thing. If I’m honest, I’m more desperate to be left alone for 10 minutes than for my time with God. I treat it as something I can do any time I get around to it, not as the treasure, the lifeline, it truly is.

Seeing the women in prison crying out to be included in the service convicts me. They are like the deer in the Psalm, thirsting, panting, for the presence of God. I take it for granted, fitting it into my schedule when convenient. I mistake working for God for being with Him. 

The service refreshes all of us. We sing, pray, sit under the Scriptures. We remember how Jesus welcomes a formerly sinful woman into his presence. He accepts her sacrificial, undignified worship. He tells everyone in the room who judges her that she has been forgiven. Like the women in prison, she is desperate to worship Jesus regardless of the cost. I pray that I will become just as thirsty.