February 8 - 400 year old prison in Ukraine

This is the last story from Ukraine. I've put off writing it because I wrote it once and lost it on the Internet. The whole experience was gut wrenching. Writing it the first time was painful and reliving it in detail is hard. This is long but I hope you will take the time to read it.

The bus ride was short and it was snowing again that day. We pulled up to an ancient looking sliding gate painted with aluminum paint. The gate (solid door) creaked open just enough for us to pass through one at a time. As we stepped through, the prison complex became visible. It was a mix of archaic and moderately archaic looking buildings in an arrangement that one could not completely see unless you were at bird's eye level. We marched in silence across to a huge metal garage door that lifted up for us to enter. It was a truck entrance and garage. As we entered the garage area, Pastor Misha's group was hastily unloading boxes of hygiene supplies and food for the prisoners. Global Aid Network had purchased these items for the inmates. The humanitarian aid opened the door for us to go in the prison. No Americans had EVER been allowed to visit the cell blocks or see prisoners. God was definitely at work here!

As soon as everything was unloaded and all team members were in the garage, the huge door lowered and we were asked to form two lines so they could count us. They did not check our pockets or pat us down but trusted we were not carrying any of the forbidden items such as weapons or any kind of bag or purse. At each of the prisons we visited, all of our passports had to be handed over to the administration as we entered, this time even our interpreters had to hand theirs over. I had the large Gospel bead bracelet in my coat pocket for the group presentation and my family pictures in my hand. The feelings of oppression, depression and hopelessness were starting to creep in. The huge metal door at the other end of the garage slowly opened after we were counted and we walked through in our two lines to the oldest part of the prison.

This prison was built in 1611, the same year the King James Bible was translated into English! The plumbing in the prison is 200 - 300 years old and is in need of constant repair. There are crumbling walls on the first floor that are full of mold and in such bad condition they took all but one "life sentence" prisoner out of those cell blocks. When it was first built, the building was a Cloister, then a Monastery for men until the Austrian-Hungarian forces turned it into a prison.

We were escorted to one of the oldest buildings and through many locked, grid and heavy metal doors that closed after we passed through. The floors, walls and stairs were badly in need of repair. Broken stairs made us watch every step we took as we climbed up and up to the top level of the building. On the top floor, we were taken to the cell block where they keep the teenage boys. There were heavy wood doors to be unlocked and then an iron barred door before we were allowed to see the boys. Much to our amazement, the boys were all wearing Operation Carelift sweatshirts! They had been given to Pastor Misha to give to the boys before we arrived. Five or six of these cells were opened for our groups to enter.

The cell had a high ceiling but little room to move around in because the beds took up most of the floor space. Each bed was neatly made with an incredibly thin, lumpy looking mattress, sheets and wool blankets. There were 8 - 10 boys in each cell, standing in a row with hands behind their backs as we entered in single file. The only place to stand was directly in front of the boys so we were eyeball to eyeball with them. There were two guards, one interpreter and five of our team members in each group.

We shook hands with the guys and later presented them with hygiene packs. We also gave them Gospel bracelets and shared the Gospel with them. Since the interpreter was three down from me, I could not get his attention but made an attempt to communicate with my feeble Russian skills. Everyone in this region of Ukraine speaks Ukrainian and if you speak Russian to them, they get upset. At this point I didn't care about all that but wanted to get to know these young men. They seemed surprised I could speak the language and quickly engaged in simple conversation with me. Some of them had been there only a few months, others much longer waiting for a trial. They shared their stories with us and each one of us who had a son was deeply touched. One boy said he was a believer and smiled a lot. He said he would be in prison six more years!

It is hard to describe the sadness we all felt as we were asked to leave only 15 minutes later. We each hugged the boys and said goodbye. Those of us who have had trouble with a teen were moved to tears. At the end of the hall was a class room behind the same kind of locked door where a TV station had set up a camera to interview our leader, Dave. The camera followed us every were we went recording our entire visit.

The next stop was a cell block of women. We went down several flights of broken concrete stairs and arrived at the women's part of the prison. Our little group of two women (including myself) Tawny, a twelve year old, and two men were ushered into a cell containing 8 women. This cell was much smaller than the previous one with barely enough room to stand at the ends of the bunk beds. The women were lined up in front of us and we could easily reach out to shake hands with them. The looks on their faces were what got to me. One of the women did most of the talking and my friend, Gary, began speaking to her. He relayed we were there to encourage them and share our faith with them. This tall woman could look Gary in the eye and she responded to everything he was saying. She told us that she had a Bible and that they read it every day and prayed in the morning and the evening before bed. As Gary was speaking words of encouragement to these ladies I watched their faces. Tears started to flow down the cheeks of the woman standing in front of me who was probably about my age but looked much older. I reached out and offered a hug which she immediately took. She clung to me and held my hand afterwords. There was a young woman standing next to her who was trying very hard to be strong but her quivering lips and chin gave away the tenderness in her heart.

We asked their names and told them our names. Then I pulled out a picture of my son during his time of rebellion and told them his story. I showed them the picture of him, now, with his lovely wife and talked about the transforming power of the Holy Spirit when a person turns their life over to Jesus Christ. Tears were streaming down my face and Tawny, our twelve year old was wiping them with her little fingers. Several of the women reached out and grabbed my arm and hand acknowledging the pain of the situation. They said they all had children and were very worried about what was happening to them while they were in prison.

Toby, the other woman in our group shared some words of encouragement to the ladies from her heart. The tears were flowing freely from every eye in the cell. Aaron, our dairy farmer and recent widower (age 32) offered a prayer for the women.

I will never forget their faces, the pain in their eyes and the encounter we had that day with those precious ladies. They seemed genuinely touched especially by our two men who spoke gently to them. I suspect they had not had a kind word from a man in many years. As we left the cell each of us hugged and kissed every lady on the cheek. More tears fell from our eyes as we filed out and the door closed behind us.

Then we were taken to a room without windows in another part of the prison to visit with some of the adult men. There was a small stage in front of the room which we were asked to stand on. The men came in, dressed in black and sat at tables with benches all facing the stage. Our hearts were full of emotion from the visits with the teens and the women but we knew we had to give our best to these men. We sang several songs to them and several people gave testimonies. Pastor Misha had brought two men who used to be in that prison who testified about how Jesus Christ changed their lives. Palmer gave his testimony and the Gospel presentation then Gary invited the men to pray.

It is hard to read faces of people who are hardened. I don't know what they were thinking but they were very attentive the whole time. As we left, food and hygiene items were handed to each man seated at the tables. They wanted us to leave before the men left the room so we stepped off the stage and down the center aisle to the back of the room. Normally I would not have tried to engage with the men but God prompted me to begin shaking hands and saying "dobrey den" to each of the men seated on one side of the room. I was not afraid but genuinely tried to look each person in the eye and be sincere in my greeting. Every handshake was firm and assuring. One of the older men at the back table had a terribly burned hand. I reached out my hand to shake his and he stood, not wanting to look in my eyes but took my hand and bend down in a bow. He place both of his hands around mine and hesitated. I did not resist but waited for him to release my hand. As he did, I smiled at him and received a small smile back. I could see the pain in his eyes and it broke my heart.

We were escorted back through the courtyard where there was a greenhouse in which thousands of onions were growing. Snow was falling reminding us of God's incredible grace and pure love he has for all of his created beings. Later, we were told that the simple act of shaking someones hand and saying "hello" to them was huge for these prisoners. They are often treated like animals and to have a kind word, respectful handshake and a gift means more to them than we can imagine.

Pastor Misha has quite a ministry here and he said Christian programming like sermons is played over the intercom for an hour, twice a day. They also play Christian music over the intercom. They wanted a CD player because the tape recorder they were using was about worn out.

Dr Jean and a couple of other medical people on our bus were allowed to tour the prison "hospital". They serve several thousand prisoners a year with very little equipment or methods of treatment. The doctors do what they can but things like their x-ray equipment was ancient. Our x-ray tech team member said she had never seen anything like it. Dr Jean said it was at least fifty years old, maybe older and the images were so bad the doctors had a difficult time diagnosing much of anything. There was also a "surgery" room that had a light which was archaic and no working anesthetic machine. Dr Jean said they use a kind of anesthetic used on kids for very simple things like keeping them still for suturing. It was not meant to be used for major surgery.

Jean is going to see if she can get some doctors in the States to help fund some working, more modern equipment for the prison hospital which takes care of prisoners from the whole region around L'viv.

Dr Jean and her little team were able to visit many of the hospital patients and share their faith with them. She shared that God's love could reach inside even the thickest prison walls.

We left through another garage door and silently walked to the bus. Our leader and a few others were invited to tea with the warden. There he expressed his gratitude for our visit and thankfulness for electricity in the prison because it made the place cheerful. He really cared about the prisoners and wanted to give them hope.

Please take a moment to pray for the prisoners we saw and the seeds of faith and hope that were planted in each of them. Pray that God will provide more openings for Pastor Misha to minister at other prisons in the area. We got to leave, get on a warm bus and go home to our families, everyone in the prison had to stay there and many will be there for quite some time.

Thank you for taking the time to read this account. The reports would not be complete with out it. I hope it touched your heart in some way or gave you perspective on your situation in life. I am so blessed and I feel compelled to share the blessing with "the least of these".

May the love of Jesus Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit rest in your hearts today. Thank you for taking this journey with me and for all of your prayers and financial support. With out you, this mission would truly be impossible.

Until next time, dus vee danya (good bye)
Love,
Dasha