Tales From the Lions' Den, Volume 5
The Holy Spirit vs a Preacher of Islam
The Holy Spirit vs a Preacher of Islam
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For more than half of the last year I was in prison at Westville, I was blessed by being
housed in “the college dorm” even though I was attending Vocational Education, Culinary
Arts (banquet/restaurant services) Class. My classmates were housed in the other
education dorms nearby with other Voc. Ed. and GED students. Most dorms have no
names but rather building/floor/direction codes such as D1West or E2North. However, the
eighty-some-odd other prisoners in “the college dorm,” otherwise known as D2West, were
extension students of Purdue University (Northwest Indiana Campus.) And, as a group,
those guys were more intelligent and much more calm and quiet than any other group at
Westville. And why not! These were the few prisoners actually receiving accredited,
college- level education at Westville. With their successful completion of a college degree
they received a much earlier release from prison!
I have pondered my good fortune of being housed in “the college dorm,” wondering about
the reasons. Perhaps the corrections staff had recognized my personal efforts studying
Bible college courses and tried to encourage me. Perhaps the word was out how I tutored
students on the dorms where I had lived and could help college students, especially with
their writing assignments. Or, perhaps, as one Corrections Officer suggested to me, it
was because I could be moved sometimes to “help in keeping everything around me
peaceful and calm.” All I know for sure is it was a blessing to me to be in that quieter, more
peaceful, mostly sane company of men; and I thanked God for His favor continuously.
And I say all that to explain how the following incident of heavenly battle involved me
personally.
On a Friday afternoon as I returned to “my college dorm” from school, the Dorm Sergeant
handed me a Movement Slip, ordering me to pack my gear to move to another dorm in the
same building. In fact, the physical move involved simply going through the normally-
locked door which separated the two upstairs dorms in building D. But, having lived on
that other dorm before, I knew that I was going back to a noisy and profane, and
sometimes violent place. I was not a happy camper! And I cried out within myself, “Why,
Lord; why?”
Not long after I found my empty upper bunk in the assigned, four-man room and began to
move in, a man only a little younger than I, also white, a Christian man whom I had roomed
with before and prayed with and studied with and attended chapel services with, came into
the room and broke into a huge smile. “You’re my new roomie, Hill? Oh! Man! You are the
answer to my prayers!” (Dennis, are you reading this? Do you remember?) Then he
lowered his voice and tried to explain “the problem with our other roommates and their
friends.”
Well, it turned out that one of my new roommates, a twenty-something black man who went
by the nickname “Tenth Street,” had been a roommate of mine previously for a week or
two in the main kitchen-workers’ dorm. He had seen my lifestyle of studying and teaching
God’s word on that dorm even after he traded rooms to have roommates he was more
comfortable with. And I had had opportunities to answer his questions about Jesus Christ
and about Christianity. He also seemed a shade relieved when he recognized me.
My other new roommate was Tenth Street’s uncle, about forty years old, who seemed
pretty much angry all the time. He made it clear to me that another white man in “his” room
did not make him any happier. And Dennis, my white roommate, had said he made him to
feel so uncomfortable that he spent much of his time down the hall with some other white
guys.
After evening chow I went with Dennis to meet his friends. Then I walked around to see if
there was anyone else I knew, black OR white OR whatever, and to ask about any
Christian group activities on this dorm; but I saw only strangers – loud, profane, mindless
strangers. When I went back to my room, no one else was there. I climbed up onto my top
bunk and lay down to nap with a rolled-up towel over my eyes to block out the light.
Not much later I heard Tenth Street and his uncle enter the room. They were not only
talking between themselves but also with others I could hear making themselves
comfortable on the lower bunks, on the personal trunks and on the floor. Before too long
the six or seven men in the room were all listening to one who was speaking loudly about
Allah and his prophet, about Christianity being “the white man’s religion,” and about Islam
being “the religion of real black men.” I began to pray silently for the souls of these men.
The preaching in the room became focused upon hate and crime and violence being the
will of Allah for the African American men. As the preaching became more intense, my
prayers became more fervent until my mouth opened and I spoke out loud. I spoke three
words which my mind did not recognize, Spirit-prompted words in a language which I do
not know. I cannot remember the sounds of those words to this day except to say that I
know I gave some kind of command. And I heard the preacher of hate gasp and stomp out
of the room. I heard the other men saying things like: “What was that!?” Then I heard Tenth
Street saying something like: “Oh, that? My new roommate just says things like that
sometimes.” One by one, men said their good byes and left.
The next day, Tenth Street asked me: “Man, what did you say last night? That dude who
was in here went to the CO’s and got hisself moved on up outa here!” To which I replied:
“Tenth Street, I honestly don’t know what I said. The LORD apparently had a message for
him. And I don’t know exactly what it was.”
Then on Sunday morning the CO’s sent me another Movement Slip which ordered me
back to “the college dorm,” back to the same room and roommates I had left on Friday. I
talked to Dennis and to Tenth Street lots of times after that – at school, at recreation, at
chow, at chapel. We were never roommates or even on the same dorm again. But we
were and, as far as I know, still are Christian brothers.
housed in “the college dorm” even though I was attending Vocational Education, Culinary
Arts (banquet/restaurant services) Class. My classmates were housed in the other
education dorms nearby with other Voc. Ed. and GED students. Most dorms have no
names but rather building/floor/direction codes such as D1West or E2North. However, the
eighty-some-odd other prisoners in “the college dorm,” otherwise known as D2West, were
extension students of Purdue University (Northwest Indiana Campus.) And, as a group,
those guys were more intelligent and much more calm and quiet than any other group at
Westville. And why not! These were the few prisoners actually receiving accredited,
college- level education at Westville. With their successful completion of a college degree
they received a much earlier release from prison!
I have pondered my good fortune of being housed in “the college dorm,” wondering about
the reasons. Perhaps the corrections staff had recognized my personal efforts studying
Bible college courses and tried to encourage me. Perhaps the word was out how I tutored
students on the dorms where I had lived and could help college students, especially with
their writing assignments. Or, perhaps, as one Corrections Officer suggested to me, it
was because I could be moved sometimes to “help in keeping everything around me
peaceful and calm.” All I know for sure is it was a blessing to me to be in that quieter, more
peaceful, mostly sane company of men; and I thanked God for His favor continuously.
And I say all that to explain how the following incident of heavenly battle involved me
personally.
On a Friday afternoon as I returned to “my college dorm” from school, the Dorm Sergeant
handed me a Movement Slip, ordering me to pack my gear to move to another dorm in the
same building. In fact, the physical move involved simply going through the normally-
locked door which separated the two upstairs dorms in building D. But, having lived on
that other dorm before, I knew that I was going back to a noisy and profane, and
sometimes violent place. I was not a happy camper! And I cried out within myself, “Why,
Lord; why?”
Not long after I found my empty upper bunk in the assigned, four-man room and began to
move in, a man only a little younger than I, also white, a Christian man whom I had roomed
with before and prayed with and studied with and attended chapel services with, came into
the room and broke into a huge smile. “You’re my new roomie, Hill? Oh! Man! You are the
answer to my prayers!” (Dennis, are you reading this? Do you remember?) Then he
lowered his voice and tried to explain “the problem with our other roommates and their
friends.”
Well, it turned out that one of my new roommates, a twenty-something black man who went
by the nickname “Tenth Street,” had been a roommate of mine previously for a week or
two in the main kitchen-workers’ dorm. He had seen my lifestyle of studying and teaching
God’s word on that dorm even after he traded rooms to have roommates he was more
comfortable with. And I had had opportunities to answer his questions about Jesus Christ
and about Christianity. He also seemed a shade relieved when he recognized me.
My other new roommate was Tenth Street’s uncle, about forty years old, who seemed
pretty much angry all the time. He made it clear to me that another white man in “his” room
did not make him any happier. And Dennis, my white roommate, had said he made him to
feel so uncomfortable that he spent much of his time down the hall with some other white
guys.
After evening chow I went with Dennis to meet his friends. Then I walked around to see if
there was anyone else I knew, black OR white OR whatever, and to ask about any
Christian group activities on this dorm; but I saw only strangers – loud, profane, mindless
strangers. When I went back to my room, no one else was there. I climbed up onto my top
bunk and lay down to nap with a rolled-up towel over my eyes to block out the light.
Not much later I heard Tenth Street and his uncle enter the room. They were not only
talking between themselves but also with others I could hear making themselves
comfortable on the lower bunks, on the personal trunks and on the floor. Before too long
the six or seven men in the room were all listening to one who was speaking loudly about
Allah and his prophet, about Christianity being “the white man’s religion,” and about Islam
being “the religion of real black men.” I began to pray silently for the souls of these men.
The preaching in the room became focused upon hate and crime and violence being the
will of Allah for the African American men. As the preaching became more intense, my
prayers became more fervent until my mouth opened and I spoke out loud. I spoke three
words which my mind did not recognize, Spirit-prompted words in a language which I do
not know. I cannot remember the sounds of those words to this day except to say that I
know I gave some kind of command. And I heard the preacher of hate gasp and stomp out
of the room. I heard the other men saying things like: “What was that!?” Then I heard Tenth
Street saying something like: “Oh, that? My new roommate just says things like that
sometimes.” One by one, men said their good byes and left.
The next day, Tenth Street asked me: “Man, what did you say last night? That dude who
was in here went to the CO’s and got hisself moved on up outa here!” To which I replied:
“Tenth Street, I honestly don’t know what I said. The LORD apparently had a message for
him. And I don’t know exactly what it was.”
Then on Sunday morning the CO’s sent me another Movement Slip which ordered me
back to “the college dorm,” back to the same room and roommates I had left on Friday. I
talked to Dennis and to Tenth Street lots of times after that – at school, at recreation, at
chow, at chapel. We were never roommates or even on the same dorm again. But we
were and, as far as I know, still are Christian brothers.