Today, while doing my morning devotional, the question rose: What encounter or moment changed the way you fundamentally do things?
I recall an encounter with James, an incarcerated youth, in 2009. He put the choice before me. Hope or despair? What will you choose?
While I say that James put the story before me, it was really the totality of his circumstances. We met for the last time and played cards in juvenile detention during free-time. He loved to play hearts. With a couple other youth, we talked about what is next.
He told me that he would probably start using again. Why? He was returning to his drug-addicted mother who continually invites him to use with her.
I asked about his father. He was a member of a gang and was responsible for moving guns around. James thought he would never live to the age of 21 if he went there.
So that was the choice before him. Addiction or death.
I left juvenile detention that night with my heart broken and in rage. I know the statistics. He was a Black youth, that counts against him in the juvenile justice system due to implicit bias. He was impoverished. His parents were less than ideal. He was undereducated (although smart). He was an addict, himself. These statistics each increase the chances of incarceration.
What hope does a 16-year-old boy have when everything is stacked against him?
The desecration of hope sat heavy on my heart that night. In fact, I could not even talk to my family when I got home. Actually, just remembering it now, 12 years later, while I am typing this, tears are flowing.
I wrote this Psalm of Lament as a response and as an indictment of all those that had failed James:
Eli Eli lama sabachthani?
where were you
when the embryo
hatched and was formed
by blood-spattered hyenas
tearing hope from
limb to limb and
laughing gleefully
at the mockery
where were you
when the embryo
fell and love
offered a hit
of a crack pipe
covered in symbols
flashing through
the ghetto offering
escape from the
desolate heat
the hands that
should be reaching
out are cut off at
the wrists bleeding
sanctimonious tripe
in defiance of the call
to love the
least , lost, and lonely
while sentencing each
embryo to death
guilty rings through
the room as we
continue to bleed the
embryo out with
ignorance born of
fear and shame and
the lie of the only way
being my way standing
on the corner shouting
belligerently to
repent or die
revelation rings through
the cosmos as the
embryo marches the
guilty to sheol while
silent tears are birthed
wresting the stumbling
breath of hope into a
silent scream reaching
to the ramparts and
calling forth the final
battle fought with
easter lilies
© 2009, Terri Stewart
Unfortunately, there are more young people like James affected by juvenile incarceration. Please, let us not fail them.
If you can give a donation to the Youth Chaplaincy Coalition right now, we are making a special effort to get a workbook titled “Ink About It” that is designed to be used with a youth and a skilled, trained mentor to create pathways to success.
You can help!
Learn more here
Peace,
Chaplain Terri Jane Stewart
