Looking Back on 2024

Remember Genesis? The boy who Ethan encouraged when he was feeling down? Who didn’t shower enough and was intellectually disabled?

Well, Genesis did something pretty remarkable the other day. He volunteered to speak at our graduation ceremony. 

Totally out of the blue. Not sure what compelled him to raise his hand. When no one else had the courage to do so, he volunteered. I had no idea what he would say. All I knew was that I was excited to hear it.  

The day of the graduation ceremony rolled around. The prison was locked down. We were in danger of the entire program being cancelled. Chaplain John and I decided to wait and see. An hour ticked by, then two. Chaplain Emily Kelly from the Department of Juvenile Justice arrived. Emily works with many of our students before they ever arrive at Burruss Correctional Training Center. She routinely shows up for our programs to remind these boys that she hasn’t forgotten them, that she still cares. 

She was toting a crate with her. Turns out she had another surprise today - she was adopting a cat from the prison’s kennel. I thought to myself, even if today’s program gets cancelled at least something good will come out of this. 

Genesis’ GED teacher came by in the afternoon on her way out the door. With the prison locked down and classes cancelled she saw no point in sitting around any longer. We exchanged pleasantries and she asked who was speaking during the ceremony; she’s been before and knew the drill. I responded by telling her Genesis. Shock rippled across her face. 

“Genesis! Why he can barely read! He never speaks in class. How’d you get him to agree to speak?”

I shrugged my shoulders. With God, these things happen. 

She decided to stay for the program. I guess it was one of those things she had to see with her own eyes. 

Finally, the lockdown lifted. The food had long gone cold, but no one cared. We played trivia. Fun fact, the lyrics “Chestnuts Roasting by an Open Fire” were written during a national heat wave. Only one group answered that correctly. 

Before we began the ceremony, I approached Genesis quietly. Whispering in his ear, I asked if he still wanted to speak. Resolutely, he nodded in the affirmative. And here we go, I thought. 

Genesis spoke. I can’t remember his words. He didn’t read from a paper, no notes to reference. Simply from the heart. It didn’t last more than a minute. Thunderous applause echoed through the room, his fellow students celebrating his milestone achievement. He held his head high. 

I write this newsletter on the very last day of 2024. The light has long left us outside, the clock inches towards midnight. As I typically am this time of year, I’m looking back on 2024, thinking of what the year ahead might hold for me. Adventures unknown. The past year has been something to say the least. I broke my ankle in March (or was it April). I started actively pursuing dating again. I added two more classes to my weekly schedule, one at a women’s prison, the other at the state’s intake prison. I was blessed to serve alongside my church as we brought the Alpha program to 70+ men at the Atlanta Transitional Center. I’ve seen more lives changed this year than I could possibly hope or pray for. 

Through it all runs a thread, a current. I don’t have the words to describe it, but I found someone who gets pretty close. David Brooks. 

In an article titled “My Decades Long Journey to Belief,” Brooks writes:

“Think of the drives that propel you through life. Some are caused by a void. You get hungry when your stomach is empty. But others are caused by an attraction. You sense some distant delicious thing and find yourself pulled forward by its goodness. Sometimes I feel pulled by a goodness that seems grand and far-off, a divine luminosity that hovers over the far horizon.”

A close friend recently asked me how HeartBound did with fundraising this year. “Better than ever before.” She seemed surprised. “That’s awesome. I was worried because it seems like you all haven’t done a lot of advertising. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

I agreed. God provided. There’s a divine luminosity that hovers over this blessed ministry. It’s palpable. It’s what keeps drawing generous people and absolute strangers to this ministry. It’s what calls them to give, to volunteer, to pray for those in prison. 

Some 2,000 years ago, a babe was born in a manger. That babe would go on to radically transform the world as we know it. Human love is wretched. God knew it and sent his son to redeem us sinners. His own son died on the cross next to two common criminals. That same son reminded us to remember those in prison. Those are not hollow words. There has to be a reason why Jesus told us to visit those in prison. He often taught in parables, but this was no parable. Viktor Frankl writes, “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms -- to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” Sitting here, waiting to go join friends to ring in a new year, I’m filled with the thought that this is why we share these stories. To show that despite the utter loss of freedom found in prison, men and women and children like Genesis are choosing the right attitude, choosing their own way. There is goodness and mercy and love in that. Just as Jesus would want. 

Those words from a babe born in a manger, condemned to die alongside the least of these, have guided HeartBound for the last 21 years and will guide us for 21 more. Happy New Year, friends!

Have a blessed day. 

Spencer