A bench, a concordance, and a word that wouldn't leave.

Burns, Wyoming

I moved to Burns, Wyoming, to recover from burnout caused by intense work with the men at Hearken House Ministries in Chambersburg, Pennsylvania.

The Bench Outside Rev. Brady's Office

I sat developing this idea that I felt God put on my heart while I was still in prison. Sitting on a bench outside Rev. Brady's office, I felt the Holy Spirit rain down on me. From that moment on, all I could think about was developing this concept — starting a soup kitchen, a construction company to fund it, and a homeless shelter for the downtrodden in Franklin County, Pennsylvania. The other inmates grew very weary of listening to me expound on this idea.

Prison is a place where you can reinvent yourself and your imaginary life before prison every other day. Time drags on, and even if you know someone is lying, at least it fills up some of the long, empty hours.

Hearkeneth

As I prayed about this concept, the next step was choosing a name. What do I call this thing? Weeks later, sitting on the same bench, I grabbed a concordance, flipped open the pages, and found the word: "Hearkeneth."

I had never heard this word before, let alone how to pronounce it. I closed the book and reopened it. It fell to the same page and the same word.

I put that book back and grabbed another concordance. I flipped open the pages, and again, it fell to the same word — "Hearkeneth."

Curious, I asked the church staff what this word meant. I later found out it is used only in the KJV Bible, appearing in only two places:

I believe God was speaking to me. He was saying:

"You can do it, but you cannot do it alone. I have your back."

Up to this point, I did not want God in my life, but He was letting me know that He wanted to be in my life. All I had to do was ask Him in.

The Top Bunk

I struggled with this for a few nights. One evening, I couldn't stop thinking about how I had pushed everyone away and hurt every good thing in my life.

That night, I fell off the top bunk in the prison dorm and hit the floor. I pounded the floor three times and surrendered with this simple prayer:

For the first time, I faced myself, and I did not like the person I had become. These thoughts broke me, and in that moment, I cried out to God for relief.

Before this day in prison, I had run far and hard from my Heavenly Father. My environment taught me to use Satan's tools to fight against God.

I believed God was my enemy.

If God really loved me, why did He allow those men to do those things to me when I was just a little boy?

If God loved me, why was I put into juvenile prison at six years old?