Description
Forgiveness and Redemption:
by Paul Thorsteinson (PT58)
Every Thursday I teach a class for SBU Redemption. The guys in the class are all incarcerated. They’re here for a variety of crimes, but they all have something in common. They want to change their lives. Something I have in common with them too, because after 22 years in prison, I’d like to make a sincere difference in the lives of others.
I started class today by reading from Bryan’s book. I shared a story about a young man named Charlie who was sentenced to life in prison. Even though he was just a kid when it happened, Charlie was sentenced to die in prison for shooting his step-father George. Charlie was only thirteen years old. He just wanted to help his Mom. Help her in an abusive relationship that was killing her one day at a time.
At the time of his crime, Charlie’s mom laid huddled up and unconscious, bleeding on the kitchen floor. As he wrestled with the courage to go into the one room in the house that had a phone, Charlie knew he had to go in the room with him. The room where the one phone was at, was the same where his abusive step-father was sleeping.
Careful to be quiet, Charlie crept into the room, but instead of grabbing the phone, his hand found it’s way to the the gun he knew George had hidden. Charlie made a choice.
“Man this class is about to get deep…” one of the students uttered under his breath.
Why not? We’ve been in scuba suit for years challenging people to go deeper, why not today?
We talked about what happened to Charlie after that moment. His appeal. The reversal of his sentence. The Jennings and their belief in him. But like all roads in a Redemption class, it was important to find the lesson. I looked around the room as everyone unlocked began to become engaged.
“What is Charlie going to really need to be successful?”
The students chimed in one at a time:
“A plan!”
“Some support!”
“A job!”
Those are all good answers, but I needed to push them a little bit farther, “What about what’s inside? Is Charlie healed from what he went through? Does he still have scars on his heart? Where does forgiveness play into Charlie’s story?”
“His stepdad?”
“The courts for giving him all that time?”
“The guys that hurt him in county jail?
“His mom?”
I knew we’re getting to the heart of this. Charlie doesn’t have to forgive those people. But if he carries it in his heart his whole life it is at a cost to him. Next I shared with the students, “I heard once, holding a grudge is like drinking poison and hoping the other person will die.”
“Man I like that!” one of the students interjected. I asked the next question.
“What would be the benefit to Charlie if he chose to forgive any of those people?”
A series of answers. They don’t know it yet, but this class is not about Charlie. In a few minutes they will all close their eyes, take a deep breath and think back to a person who treated them unfairly, made them feel small, or hurt them in their past.
The class is about forgiveness. Maybe one of the most difficult sessions during the entire course. But it’s not about forcing people to reconcile with the most traumatic instances in their lives, but with how those instances have ahold of them today. How those traumas still affect them in their everyday thoughts. We were going to talk about the benefit to them if they chose to forgive someone who hurt them in the past…
Someone asked me, Why do you go teach those classes? Aren’t you afraid of Covid?
No, I am not afraid of Covid. I am not afraid of dying. I am afraid of not doing enough. Of giving up on people at a crucial juncture in their lives. That seems like the truest injustice.
I teach classes, but this is not your kid’s math class. This is a class that can save someone’s life. This is a class that teaches you about forgiveness and remorse. A class that challenges you to think about the people that were harmed by your decisions. To show gratitude to your family before it is too late. A class that will make you rethink before you even consider committing your next crime. I teach Redemption.
Most people live their entire lives never fighting for something they believe in.
Am I afraid to continue teaching?
No, I would die for this.
