It has been quite an experience so far. It's the very first time I have been in an Israeli prison and those in there say that the one I 'picked' is the worst one in the country from the point of view of conditions and facilities. Nevertheless, I have learnt a lot more about a different kind of life that some live.

The most noticeable thing is that most men (or women) in there had strong dependency problems which seemed to be closely linked with the reason they were in there and kept returning. I would meet some guy I thought was quite a decent sort of person and after a few days find out that it was already his 3rd/4th jail term; having already served 2 + 5 + 5 years when he is only 27 now.

In almost every way I seemed to be totally different and somewhat lost in that environment. For example, it seems I was the ONLY one in the whole prison who didn't smoke, added to that I didn't drink, do drugs and whatever else could or can be done. Some guys way 'older' than me would say, "I'm 50, how old are you?" They were very surprised when I told them that I am nearly 68. The doctor who checked me when I arrived did my blood pressure and pulse twice and then said to me, "Look at this!" and my blood pressure was 115/70 with a pulse of 52 the first time and 48 the second.

Relationships was one area I would have thought was going to be a hard thing, but because of so many around the world praying for me, that turned out to always be resolved extremely well - and surprisingly!. I am always amazed at the Lord and what he does, so don't ever underestimate the effectiveness of your prayers for anyone or anything.

For example when a really tough guy joined the cell of 8 men, I wondered how I would relate to him. He immediately started throwing his weight around and pushed the guy out of his bunk that he thought was the best and the one he wanted. Then he took things from people just because he wanted them. Everyone seemed to run round after him and do what he said just because he bullied. We each get just one blanket and this guy took someone else's blanket and started to make it into a pillow for himself. I was annoyed at this, knowing that the other guy would not have one that night which was pretty cold - below freezing outside and no heating.

I asked God if I should stop him, but God just said, "No, let him do it", which surprised me. It was then that I remembered that the guy he took it from had wet his bed the night before and the blanket probably got a little wet too. Then he started trying to get me to do things, but I ignored him and didn't even answer him. After three times of trying to demand I do something he became really angry and started pacing up and down the cell banging and punching everything in sight with his fists and shouting very agressively through the bars of the cell door, but funnily enough he didn't shout at me or approach me at all. Then he kept quiet for a long while and didn't try it on anymore.

When we were sitting around on the bunks in the evening I just picked up the Book of the Psalms in Hebrew which they allow/put in there and started to follow through the Psalms I knew the words of in English in the Hebrew text. This guy immediately said to me that HE had a book of Psalms, and did I want to read his one, and I said I did. I then spent the next one and a half hours reading that quietly to myself. This seems to have pleased him a lot. I don't exactly know why, but the Lord knew his needs.

From then on he kept wanting to talk to me and be friends, although he still had the angle of whether I could get him anything or be of benefit to him. That doesn't matter, though, as the Lord knows the future and had started to minister to him.

Another guy was like that too - throwing his weight around, I mean. I sat on his bunk one evening and talked to him about his life and listened carefully as he told me of about his early life and some of the crual ways he and his girl friend had been treated as they lived rough on the street sof Tel Aviv. Then the next evening, after everyone had settled down for the night, God said to me that I should tell him the gospel!

That doesn'tsound much, but to me it seemed a hard thing to do and I was thinking, "I can't, I can't". I thought how on earth can I do that to this tough bullying person. But God said, "If you want me to get YOU out of this prison the least you can do is tell him something which could get him out of the prison his life has become.

The word prison made me realise what to say. So I decided I had better do it and as I walked towards his bunk, the guy himself asked if I would talk to him again. He started by saying that I was different and I asked why. He said that as he told me his life's story the night before I had tears in my eyes. He said that had never happened to him before.

I said that - "I was different because I had an experience like being in jail in a condemned cell and waiting day after day to be executed at sometime in the future that I didn't know. I know I had been put there by the Judge, who seemed to me at that time to have been unduly harsh with me to sentence me to death. Then one day a visitor came to see me in the cell. He was wearing absolutely pure white clothes and I realised how dirty mine were - and smelly. He asked if I wanted to change clothes with him and I agreed. He then told me that some people he visited didn't want to change because they thought their own clothes weren't too bad. In fact, I'm not so sure I thought mine were too bad, until I saw them on him. As soon as we had swapped the jailer came into the cell saying it was time for my execution, but the visitor jumped up, wearing my clothes and went outside and not me. I was dumbfounded. I heard what was going on and what the crowd were shouting and finally I knew he had been killed. Then the jailer came back and asked, "Are you still here? Don't you know the execution is over?" So I was amazed to find I was now completely free to go through all the gates, bars and doors, right to the outside. (Believe me, that part is really meaningful when you're in jail, because there are so many locks and banging doors every where.) I decided to go to see the Judge who had put me there and was surprised to be able to just walked into his house without anyone trying to stop me. There he was and sitting beside him was my visitor, but the visitor was now wearing pure white clothes again. The Judge looked at me very, very kindly and explained that he HAD to find me guilty and sentence me to death, but he hated having to do it so much he thought of a plan. He decided to send his son as my visitor, to change clothes and then to die instead of me."

The guy I told this story to said he knew the Judge was God and also understood when I said the visitor was the Jewish Messiah Yeshua. He asked if I thought the visitor would come to visit him and I said that I was sure he would and was probably already on his way. I then went back to bed, wondering if I had done all that I should have, because I didn't actually lead him to the Lord or pray with him. As I was doubting and blaming myself the cell door opened and the lights went on. Three Russian guys came into the cell and the tough guy - rather uncharacteristically, I thought - found them somewhere to sleep and we started to settle again with the lights off. To my surprise he started to tell everyone in the cell the story I had just told him, but in Hebrew. "Wow! I thought. So I don't even have to be able to speak Hebrew!"

There are quite a few other things that have happened in those 5 weeks, but best of all, I found out more of just trusting the Lord and watching him work and smiling with pleasure as he did so. Oh, and prayer is very powerful, too!

Barry (March 1, 2010)