Light Shineth in the Darkness

Several months ago, I shared about Ethan, a horticulture student who had recently tried to commit suicide – twice. I’d be remiss if I didn’t share an update.

Genesis arrived at Burruss Correctional Training Center unlike many other juvenile inmates – he was upbeat and smiling. He actively participated in class and gleefully shouted out answers to the little puzzles we use to warm up at the start of each class. His answers were nearly always wrong – he is undoubtedly intellectually disabled. How a court found him fit to stand trial is beyond me. His capacity to understand what’s going on around him is definitely diminished.

Over the past few weeks, Genesis’ demeanor completely changed. He totally withdrew from the rest of the class, opting to sit alone. His unmistakable smile disappeared; no answers came forth from his mouth. I couldn’t bear it any further. I asked him to stay after class.

I pleaded with him to tell me what was going on. The strong scent of teenager body odor overwhelmed my nostrils. This told me that something was wrong – either Genesis was fully disintegrating mentally and refusing to shower, or, and I prayed this wasn’t true, he was afraid of being accosted in the showers and thus refused to even shower. If you smell horribly, someone is less likely to touch you inappropriately. His voice was a whisper, I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Suddenly, the door flew open, Ethan came bounding in, full of joy. He’d returned to the classroom with one of the assignments he had failed to previously turn in when he was on suicide watch. I asked him politely to wait a few minutes. He moved towards me anyways.

“Genesis, what’s going on with you? You haven’t been yourself, are you okay?” Ethan asked. Genesis nodded along. “I’ll be okay, yeah, I’m fine.” Ethan replied, “Okay, if you need anything, just let me know.”

Driving home that afternoon, I reflected on the interaction between the two young men. One, previously suicidal, looking out for the other, now seemingly suicidal, or at least on the verge of it. I thanked God for both Ethan and Genesis.

The following week, Genesis approached me. Again, more words I couldn’t understand, but the unmistakable smile had returned on his face. I patted him on the shoulder, he didn’t smell as bad as last time, still not good, but an improvement. He and Ethan sat together in class.

God has a purpose for me, you, Ethan, and Genesis. We are put on earth to love our neighbor. God allows us to partner with Him. God helped Ethan stay around so he could be there for Genesis when I couldn’t. It’s not coincidence; it’s Divine.

Light shineth in the darkness. The darkness comprehends it not.

Amen to that.

Spencer