trebeck's mustache

when i was the greatest

 abuse

I’m a cook. I’m a very good cook. And I know it. When I was asked to use my cooking skills for something called Kairos Prison Ministries, I jumped at the opportunity to show off my skills in the kitchen, cooking for a hundred or more people for three meals a day for several days in a row. But first, I had to learn the expected scheduling, budgeting and even menu selections required of the ‘outside team’ (the cooks and ‘runners’) before I could begin to try to influence the menus and methods used by those involved in this prison ministry.

It was one major ego trip for me to hear feedback from the prison ‘inside teams’ of the praise for our (that is: ‘MY’) cooking.  I was busting buttons and grinning like a mule eating briars from the accolades.  I knew that I had done good! As my ego told me, I truly was the best cook the ‘outside teams’ had ever had.

Don’t get me wrong here. There are plenty of experienced, talented cooks in Kairos. But overall, I knew I was the best of them all.  And I was convinced that I had not only made a mark, but was setting a standard that would be hard to match or surpass for many years to come by future kitchen teams.

Since I became a part of Kairos in the fall of 2001, I have never felt called to be part of an ‘inside team’.  The inside team is those folks that go into the prison and minister and share with the residents (we never call them ‘inmates’) from the early morning to the evening.  But one benefit I gained from being a part of Kairos was the opportunity to attend the very last few hours of the ‘weekend’.  This is called the Closing.  It is a marvelous time where the residents, inside team members and outside team members get to spend an hour or so reflecting and sharing upon the Kairos Weekend experience.

I went to my third ‘Closing’ after having been almost fully in charge of the outside kitchen team for the first time ever for me.  And it was there that God – and not my ego – spoke in a very loud voice to me.

There was this resident who claimed to be Muslim, yet had participated in the Kairos weekend because, he said, he wanted to know ‘what kind of Christians YOU are’.  I was told that the entire time he participated in the weekend, he never said the name “God”. He always chose to say “Allah”. 

At the end of Closing, there is an ‘open mic’ time. Any resident who wishes to speak of his Kairos experience is given an opportunity to address all at the closing meeting. 

This ‘Muslim’ man stepped up to the mic. The room was silent. I could see the inside team members and residents looking at each other, puzzled, shocked, worried that he was going to ruin the entire experience for all.  He stepped to the mic and slowly looked around the room. The Kitchen Team had been introduced to them earlier in the Closing program. He looked at us, slowly, deliberately making eye contact with each member of the outside team.  He looked very serious, almost angry.  Then he spoke to the Kitchen Team members.

“Where’s Miss Betty?” he asked.

We knew who he was asking about. Miss Betty is our potato salad specialist, though there are many hands that go into the making of such a quantity for a Kairos weekend.

 “She couldn’t be here,” we responded.

“I want you to tell her something when you see her,” he said with a firmness that was almost threatening. 

We sat silently, looking almost fearful, I’m sure.  He continued, “When I was a little boy, my grandma made the best potato salad ever. I loved her potato salad.”  He paused, obviously becoming very emotional. “She believed in God. And she taught me about Him.”  Again, he seemed to choke up.  Then, collecting himself, he got to the point of his story for us, his face softening and a slight quiver in his voice.

We all began to feel some sympathy for him, and all smiled reassuringly as he continued.

 “I want you to tell Miss Betty,” he said directly to us, “I finally got my grandma’s potato salad” 

I don’t know if there was a dry eye in the room at that point.  But I do know that my ego and I walked out of Central Prison in Raleigh that day feeling about half an inch tall.

I’ve meditated on his words and my actions and those of my fellow Kairos outside team members often in the years since I heard him speak to us.  And I’ve come to realize just how powerful our Lord is. 

You see, I was cooking. I was showing off. I was working for ME.  But Kairos isn’t about me. It isn’t about any team member. It’s about the love of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ and those who follow Him. 

When that young man took a bite from that bowl of potato salad, I realized from his words that everything his grandma had exemplified to him came rushing back. I can imagine she was a good, Christian woman. That he recalled her pride in his accomplishments. That he recalled her admonishing him to be a ‘good boy’.  And, somehow, he had ended up in North Carolina’s maximum security prison. 

I heard in his words that his life had truly been changed from his participation in this Kairos weekend. But, two lives were changed that day. For I was changed as well. Never will I be in the kitchen for a Kairos weekend thinking that I’m just making a reputation for myself as a good cook. There is one ingredient in all of the Kairos recipes that is not in any cookbook anywhere. Everything we prepare and send in to the prisons contains a very generous, heaping helping of the love of Christ our Lord.

Jesus tells us to ‘visit those in prison’. James tells us in the New Testament that ‘faith without works is dead’.  Often we fail to realize just how much faith is in our works, and how those very works affect the lives of others around us.

I know, it sounds like a joke. But it’s very true:  I really DO know a man who found Jesus in a bowl of potato salad.

Filed under: Personal