Dear God, Why?

I joined the U.S. Navy and was stationed all over the world. I also met a young lady who later became my wife. We were blessed with two wonderful sons, Reme and Jason. They were my pride and joy and reason for living. I was on top of the world, and I wanted the best for them, so I took all I had and started a successful business around my talents as a martial artist. I had status, a career, and family. The little religion I had was just a show. God was just a word.

Arrest, and Jail. Then one day, as I was taking a family member to the hospital, I was surrounded by police. I had no idea what was happening. Here I was, an American serviceman, a patriot, and I was being arrested. Dear God, why? I had never been in any trouble and my record was as clean as my uniform.

I found out I was being set up by former associates of mine. They wanted to frame me so that some scheme of theirs could go undetected. My attorney persuaded me that everything was fine. “You’re innocent,” he said. “Don’t worry. This will never stick.”

Then the trial came. There was no evidence, just my word against my accusers’. Somehow, the jury found me guilty, and I was sentenced to life in jail. Dear God, why? What did I do to deserve this? Why are you letting this happen?

I was angry and bitter. I had traded the crisp white uniform of the U.S. Navy for that of the state prison. My faith was shattered. I couldn’t believe that God existed. If he did, why would he let something like this happen to me?

As time passed, I became colder and angrier. Because of my martial arts background, I was accepted and respected within the prison community.

But then the ultimate happened. My oldest son, Reme, was involved in a fatal car accident. I was lost, I hated everyone and everything. Even God was my enemy.

Stirrings of Peace, and a Crisis. Around this time, I met an inmate named Todd. He walked around the prison with a peace that simply glowed. I don’t know why, but we became the best of friends. We even became cell mates. I grew to trust him and found myself sharing my feelings with him. I found out that he was a Catholic, and he kept telling me that he was so peaceful because he knew God. “Fat chance,” was my response.

Then Todd convinced me to go to chapel with him one day. I sat in the back pew and didn’t want anyone to see me. I wasn’t willing to accept God, but I found the quiet, non-threatening atmosphere to be peaceful. I began going to chapel more frequently and following Todd around like a puppy. I wanted the peace that he had, but I just couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from.

Once again, tragedy struck. My youngest son, Jason, was riding with a friend and was struck by a drunk driver and was in a coma. Every day for about a month, I was allowed to call the hospital and speak to him, even though he couldn’t talk back. Then I was asked to make the hardest decision of my life. The doctors wanted me to take Jason off life support. I struggled with the decision, but Todd was there to support me. Finally, I consented, and at 10:00 a.m., just two days after my own birthday, Jason’s life support was discontinued. At noon, he was gone. I felt completely empty.

Meeting Jesus in Prison. As time passed, Todd invited me on a retreat. This was a one-time deal called a Cursillo. My immediate response was, “No way, not me.” I didn’t want to have anything to do with God. But Todd kept hinting, and I felt like I was letting him down. He had done so much for me. I finally gave in. I didn’t expect anything. I thought I’d just go and listen.

Wow! I was floored. I met Jesus on that retreat—a laughing, smiling, crying, joking, caring, loving Jesus. I felt like the prodigal son. I found answers to many of my questions. I forgave my accusers. I forgave the people who caused my sons’ deaths. I forgave everyone who had ever harmed me or my family.

I found the peace that was in knowing Jesus, and I wanted more. I became the prison chaplain’s choirmaster and the chaplain’s clerk. I worked to bring more Cursillos into the prison. Most of all, I began to study the word of God.

Confined,but Set Free. But then my life took another unexpected turn. About a year after my conversion, I was diagnosed with incurable multiple sclerosis. Prison was hard enough for a healthy man, and here I was losing control of my bladder and bowel functions. And the pain kept getting worse. I was eventually confined to a wheelchair.

Then one day, as I was in the chapel in my wheelchair, a young man named Eric approached and offered to help. He seemed to come out of the blue, but I believe the Holy Spirit was at work. I was getting depressed, and the good Lord sent an angel in my time of need. Eric attended to all my needs. He cleaned me when I soiled myself. He cooked my meals. He spent hours playing board games and studying Scripture with me. He was a reflection of Christ to me.

My illness finally landed me in the prison infirmary, where I remain to this day. I now have all the time and quiet I want to study Scripture, and countless opportunities to help others who are infirm.

Recently, I received a scholarship to a Catholic distance university, and my studies have become more intense. This opportunity has allowed me to bring my heart together with my head. I am knowing Jesus as well as feeling him.

Someday, if it’s God’s will for my innocence to be proven, I will be thankful. But in the meantime I know that he has plans for me right here. I’m no longer angry or bitter. It took my coming to prison to see Jesus in the eyes of those who believe in him and to experience his love.

I know my life has changed for the better and I am now being sought out and respected for my faith rather than my ability to fight. I have been blessed with the opportunity to learn about Jesus, and I hope to pass it on. I now hope that the Holy Spirit will make me an instrument of the same peace I once sought and found.

Dear God, thank you!