I’ve spent most of my life working beside other men: with Aussie diggers in the army, with farmers in Central Asia, and now, back in Australia, with men in prison workshops.
I remember one summer evening in Central Asia, walking with a local colleague. With the harsh sun gone, the cool water of an irrigation canal running beside us and lush green vegetation everywhere, almost pulsating in the twilight, I thought we could have been in the Garden of Eden.
My friend, however, was deeply troubled by something. As we walked, we talked about how to know the right thing to do, and where we got the strength to do it. I tried to encourage him that just as God walked with Adam and Eve in the Garden all those years ago, he was still walking with each of us—if only we would listen to him. My friend wasn’t used to thinking of God as one who comes close, so as we parted for the evening, he continued to ponder this.
“My friend wasn’t used to thinking of God as one who comes close.”
Fast forward ten years and I’m back in Australia, running a manufacturing workshop in a men’s prison. What a contrast to that evening, working inside a windowless cavern, literally locked in and no vegetation or water to be seen. One thing remains the same, however: I still work with men—men facing the consequences of their actions and certainly not where they want to be.
So we work. And as we work, we talk. We talk about their lives and mine. I ask questions and listen. One bloke has a court appeal coming up. Another has children he doesn’t see, or a mother who’s ill. Most feel that life is out of their control.
I try to encourage them with how God is real for their everyday lives, just as he’s real for me in my life, for farmers wanting rain, and for soldiers nervous about a parachute jump, or missing their families while they’re away.
In the workshop there are 20 men watching me, so they figure me out pretty quickly. Am I for real when I tell them that as a follower of Jesus, they can expect me to treat them with respect? Jesus gave the lowest outcasts dignity as people made in the image of God. Sadly, I don’t always live up to that example: I’m impatient or don’t listen. Then comes repentance and asking for forgiveness. That’s part of ordinary life working beside men.
“Wherever we are, I figure God has put us there. So we can live for him at work.”
Tim* is one bloke I’ve worked beside. As we talked, we’ve found a common concern in feeling out of control in life. I explained how I have to keep going back to God and trusting him that he is in control.
Tim asked why I believed in God at all.
“Jesus,” I replied. “When I read the accounts of his life, I am so struck by how he interacted with people. He’s a guy I can follow.”
So Tim started to read Mark’s Gospel.
About a month later, Tim came to me and simply declared: “You know, when I came here, I was a confirmed atheist. But now I’ve decided to follow Jesus.”
What’d brought about this change?
“I knew a bit about Jesus,” Tim said, “but I’d just never heard it put that way before.”
“How on earth did I put it?” I asked myself. But I encouraged him to keep re-reading the account of Jesus.
Only a few days later, he was shifted to another prison. I can write to him, but I feel a bit out of control… so I hand Tim over to God.
By working alongside each other in the time we had and encountering the Gospel, God had shown himself to Tim and made an eternal difference in him. Wherever we are, I figure God has put us there. So we can live for him at work, loving people and listening to them, praying for them and speaking about how God is real for their life.
Brian is an Interserve team member working in Australia.
*Name has been changed.
