Jailhouse Religion? Probably… NOT.

Going to church is where I found some peace in my life.  My life was shit.  Using drugs every day.  My girl was a stripper who worked the late shift.  She came in at 3 a.m.  There was not a damn thing “normal” about my life… except for Sunday morning church.

Perhaps that’s why I chose to go every Sunday.  Not only that, but I felt when I went to church.  Like I would stand there by myself, people all around me are singing, clapping their hands, praying.  Some raise their hands, others kneel down at the pew.  Husbands and wives holding hands, little kids singing with their little voices….

Many times all I could do was cry.  Here I am, with a stripper passed out at my house, I just snorted two Oxys off my dash-board.  I’m on felony probation.  My family is several hundred miles away.  My life is in shambles, yet this God in this church is touching me and all I can do is cry.

How many times I looked up at that altar and tried to will my feet to carry me up there…but they wouldn’t.  Wishing someone would see me and reach out to me, but they didn’t.  Their God was speaking to me, doesn’t He speak to them too?  Why can’t they see me?

I wanted help.  But I couldn’t make my feet carry me to the front of that church.  All it would have taken was one person putting their hand on my shoulder and asking if they could pray for me.  Not once did anyone ever do that for me.

I have been writing for this blog now for nearly a year.  As you see, I don’t preach.  No, I guess I want to be the guy who puts his hand on your shoulder just to let you know you don’t stand alone.  You don’t have to carry your burden by yourself.  That’s what I needed and couldn’t find.

Not long ago, someone called me out.  …Asked if perhaps I had found jailhouse religion.  No, what I have is a personal relationship.  I take my God with me everywhere I go.  My God doesn’t live in a church.  A pastor doesn’t bring Him to life on Sunday morning from 9-10:30.  My God has become my personal savior.  He puts His hand on my shoulder every day.  He walks with me, He talks with me.

Want to know why I’m free today?  How even in here, in this prison, my spirit is free?  My personal savior, Jesus Chirst. 

My friend, I challenge you to get some.

Having God in your life doesn’t mean you have no life anymore.  Not hardly.  Don’t get me wrong – some days will still suck.  That’s when you feel that hand on your shoulder and find the strength to carry on.

Jail-house religion.  I don’t know what that’s doing for anyone.  Then again, I don’t know what going to church and sitting in the front pew is doing for a lot of people.  If you still find time to point fingers at others, then there’s your answer. 

Instead of pointing fingers, try placing the whole hand on the shoulder of someone who needs it.  …A soul that is crying out for love, for freedom – someone who is dying to live.

That’s the problem: The joy of God in your life became just that - Religion.  


I’m gonna take this even a step farther.  If you’re looking for some answers, try stepping into a church on a Sunday morning.  Find yourself a quiet corner and just chill.  Relax and listen.

Whatever you do, don’t look to the people there for answers.  Chances are you’ll be let down.  However, someone there has what you’re looking for.  God will be there.  He’s always there…looking for that person who is broken.  The one who can’t make his feet carry him to the front.  The one that fell between the cracks.  The one nobody else notices.  He sees you.  Trust me, He will place His hand on your shoulder.

I have robbed people, hurt people, cut people, shot at people.  I have spit on God, my family and everyone who loved me.  I have broke the law my whole life, and God still put His hand on me.  He will do it for you too.  You want some peace then look at the cross.

I’m trying to do more of this myself.  It’s only when I try to do it myself that the road gets hard to travel.  If I look to the cross, I feel peace.  Those, my friend, are the best days.  I wish this for you.  I challenge you to get some!  Get some God, just beware of religion.

I have felt this way since this blog started.  Nothing has changed.  I’m still gonna speak my mind.  You won’t ever classify me under a title.  I can make you laugh, I can make you cry.  I can’t save you, but I can try and make you believe.  I am not a preacher.  More like a pilgrim passing through.  “Probably” not a preacher?  …No, definitely not a preacher! 






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