That's why I cry . . .

A few posts back I wrote about the Alabama Supreme Court's recent scheduling of several executions of residents of Alabama's Death Row during the first half of 2009. That announcement irritated an old nerve in me, brought back old pains, and the result was a rather terse, angry post. I explained the story behind that to a small group of people Sunday, and realized I have not shared that story as often as I thought. So I will explain it to you.
Apologies to those who have already endured the story.

A few years ago I participated in the Kairos prison ministry, which is based on the Cursillo/Emmaus model, for those of you who may be familiar with those ministries. In Kairos a team of street folk go into the institution for three days of fellowship, talks by preachers and non-preachers, good food, singing, laughing, discussion, prayer and worship. Following that weekend the team returns once a month for a "reunion," which usually lasts only a couple of hours.

Our group had the unprecedented opportunity to take the ministry into Death Row. We prepared as we would for a general population Kairos, but knew that there would be things we would not anticipate. The week-end came. The residents of Death Row participated seriously and fully, and we all were inspired and blessed. An element of the Kairos model is that before the three day event begins, each prison resident who is scheduled to attend is assigned to a member of the team. It is the team member's obligation to set the resident at ease, answer questions about the event, and help them get into what is going on, separate and apart from what is happening at their table groups. I was assigned to Billy Ray. But rather than me setting Billy Ray at ease, the roles were reversed. He recognized how foreign the Death Row environment was to me, and he immediately set me at ease. I quickly learned that Billy Ray was much farther down the disciple road than I. We became good friends.

The December reunion meeting was to be a Christmas celebration. Billy Ray had the devotion that day, which was beautiful. Billy Ray was confident in his faith, and spoke with power and love. At the close of the devotion he made a personal announcement. He had received his "date." That meant he had been told when he would die. That was on the third Saturday in December. His "date" was January 11.

That was one of those things we had not prepared for. We had become friends and brothers in Christ with people who would be told when they were going to die. Billy Ray seemed to be handling it pretty well. I was devestated.

As it turns out, the next day, Sunday, the band at Lester Memorial UMC, my church, was going to do its first performance of Graham Kendrick's "Rumors of Angel," a Christmas program found on a CD by our preacher, Gary Formby. We had no written music, so we all listened to the CD and Gary sang the songs for us, and eventually we figured out the chord progressions and arrangements. Each of us in the band were assigned solos or duets. I was assigned a song called "Thorns in the Straw". One of my gifts is the ability to commit things to short term memory, which came in handy for this program as we learned it quickly. The problem was, I had memorized the melody, became familiar with the words and chords, but did not take time to hear the message of the song. . . until I was singing it in front of the whole church on that Sunday after hearing Billy Ray's news the day before.

The program went well. Then it was my turn to sing alone. Everything was fine. But suddenly I was singing the last verse.

"Till against the darkening sky, the son she loved was lifted high,
And with His dying breath, she heard him say 'Father forgive,'
To the criminal beside, 'today with me in paradise,'
So bitter, yet so sweet . . ."

Along about the time I hit "to the criminal beside . . ." I realized what the song was saying. I choked up, crying, and couldn't get the rest of the words out. I will never forget Gary picking up where I had stopped, and finished the song that I could not sing.

The next three weeks were full of attempts to do something to stop Billy Ray's scheduled death. Meetings with the governor. Court filings. Nothing worked. The night before his execution Billy Ray called me. He comforted me. How absurd is that? He told me how much he loved our singing. He told me that he loved me. Then he told me not to worry, that when he sat down in that chair he would begin to sing Amazing Grace, and no matter where he was when he stood up, he would finish singing it.

We still sing "Rumors of Angels" at Lester. We'll do it this Sunday at 8:30 a.m. at Early Church. If I sing "Thorns in the Straw," I will not be able to get through it . . . still. And that's been more than ten years ago. But the tears are a ridiculous gift from God, reminding me of Billy Ray, reminding me of the grace we have not yet learned how to extend. I would not trade that gift for anything.

Anyway, that's what that's all about.