What’s better than official prison release papers?

Let me tell you a story about the power of accompaniment.  Erwin was released from a prison in Florida in December.   He’s 70 years old.  He is now homeless in Hickory, NC.  He sleeps on the streets when the Salvation Army shelter lacks space. 

When a person is in prison Social Security payments cease.  His first step out of homelessness is to reinstate his Social Security.  He went to the Social Security office, and they said they couldn’t do anything until they saw official release papers.  He didn’t have them.  It’s understandably hard for a homeless person to keep up with a lot of papers.  He called the prison and asked for another set.  They said they only issued one set. 

I met Erwin at Strong Life Rescue Mission for the homeless. He was stuck between two large governmental bureaucracies.  He asked me if I could do anything.  I called the Social Security office. After a 45-minute wait, they repeated that they couldn’t do anything without the papers.  I then called the prison and after another long wait, I heard the same. “We only issue one set of release papers.”

I appealed to the correctional officer.  “He’s 70 years old and homeless in North Carolina. Can you write just a letter?”  He said he would check with his administration, which I didn’t take as being very hopeful.

After a week of fuming about the system and some accompanying prayer to calm me down, I saw Erwin again.  He was grinning.  He said he called the same officer to follow up.  “It was like we were best buds.  I should be receiving the letter today.”

I said, “Wow, that’s great! 

He said, “It’s because of you.” I told him I didn’t do much. “You did a lot.  Once they saw someone cared for me, they realized they should care too.” 

A week later, I accompanied Erwin to the Social Security office.  We gave the agent the one-sentence letter, plus a printed copy of his public record from the Department of Corrections website.  These were not “official release papers”.  We knew it.  The agent knew it.   He gazed at the papers and then gazed at us.  We sat there smiling innocently.  He said, “I’ll be right back,” presumably checking with his manager.  He returned, and after a few keystrokes said Erwin would start receiving his social security payments.

We high-fived our way through the parking lot. 

Instead of an official letter from the prison, it was like I was Erwin’s letter.  As Saint Paul said to the Corinthians, “You are my letter, written on my heart, to be read by all… written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God.”  (2 Cor 3:2-3)

The words of Erwin echo in my heart.  “Once they saw someone cared for me, they realized they should care too.”  Is bringing about God’s kingdom simply being that ‘letter’ that says ‘I care’?