BY RICK FLECK

E INTRODUCED HIMSELF AS SALTY. Salty? I'd never heard of him. He looked about 5'6", late 40s, quite heavy for his height, and rather stressed out, as are all new inmates after a long bus ride.

"Do you need anything?" I asked.

"I need a smoke."

"Sorry. I don't smoke," I said. "But if you need soap, toothpaste, or something to read, I can help you there. If you're interested, I'm a Christian, and we have regular services."

His eyes lit up, and his face beamed. "I'm a Christian too," he exclaimed. "I could really use a Bible." We talked for a minute; then I returned to my cell. Salty seemed sort of an odd fellow. But I couldn't get past his genuineness, something not often seen in prison. Most inmates wear masks of some kind or another to hide their fears and their pasts.

Settling Into a Routine
Salty and I occasionally saw each other and met in church. Every week he'd be right there in front, praising the Lord. When the chaplain organized a baptism, 14 guys decided to make their commitment public. Salty was one of them.

A few months later the prison officials did a massive move of inmates to another yard, taking my celly, along with Salty's, and many others. This is a situation that no one in prison enjoys. An inmate has two choices: either find someone who will move in ASAP, or just wait, hoping that whoever comes through that door is compatible. Because of overcrowding, bed spaces are filled fairly quickly.

Living side by side can be hard even with someone likable, so while praying that evening, I wondered who God would put in my cell. The next morning I started thinking about Salty, but hesitated because of his smoking. Yet I had lived with smokers before. We would have Christ in common, and that was what mattered.

The more I thought about it, the more I felt impressed to give him a shout. Kneeling, I asked God to lead, rose from my knees, went to the door, and yelled down the tier, "Salty!"

"Yeah, Skip?"

"Hey, do you want to move up here with me?"

After a short pause came a healthy holler, "Yes, positively."

So there it was. Salty was moving in. After putting down his belongings, he said, "I'm going to quit smoking." Having quit 10 years earlier myself, I knew how hard it is to break an addiction. He seemed determined; I hoped he could do it.

Weeks rolled by, and not only did Salty kick smoking, he began to exercise. Weighing well over 200 pounds, he had a mountainous task, but the resolution that I saw with the tobacco habit, I now saw with his exercise. But the best part was studying the Bible together. Salty already had knowledge of God, but still had many questions that needed answers. He loved the Lord with all his heart and showed it every time we studied together.

Salty told me of disappointing years in the Salinas Valley Prison. For five years he had tried to get moved to Folsom, closer to where most of his family lived. His mother had had several heart surgeries, his father battled cancer, and both were elderly. Naturally Salty prayed and pleaded with God to be transferred to a prison close enough for them to visit. He had begged his counselor to send him south, anywhere except High Desert Prison, which is far from his family. But here he was at High Desert.

I wondered what God had in store for Salty, and we prayed time and again that God's will would be revealed. As months melted away I still didn't know why God had sent Salty to High Desert, but one thing was certain; Salty was a work in progress. His conviction to kick the smoking habit and get in shape paid big dividends. After about 10 months Salty weighed 170 pounds, ran four miles a day, and looked like a new man. Even the staff commented on the new and improved Salty McGraw. The fellas started calling him "Slim," making his eyes gleam and an ear-to-ear smile pop out. But in the quiet time of cell living he still questioned, "Why High Desert?"

With spring came news of Salty's father's declining health. All of the Christian brothers banded together in prayer sessions, asking for mercy and healing for Ray McGraw.

A Father's Journey
Ray McGraw had come to know the Lord as an 8-year-old in Jacksonville, Florida, where a local pastor of the Southern Baptist Church baptized him. Shortly after his baptism, while playing with a friend, Harry, in a vacant lot, Ray began talking about a book in heaven with many names. Then he explained his newly found love for the Lord and his assurance of salvation through Christ. One can only imagine two 8-year-olds discussing the plan of salvation, but Ray's words had a life-changing effect on Harry.

The following weekend Harry asked the pastor for baptism. When he turned 13, Harry decided to become a preacher. Ray and Harry lost track of each other. For more than 50 years Harry wondered what had become of Ray and his brother Joe. When Harry preached at the old church in Jacksonville, he told of his conversion experience in the vacant lot nearby. When he thought of the true favor Ray had done for him, Harry wondered if he could ever repay Ray for his heartfelt testimony that day.

Intersections
Spring came late at High Desert State Prison. As Chaplain Green drove to the prison, the smell of sage and fresh grass filled the air. He picked up his keys at the front gate and walked to his office to review the previous day's voice mail messages. Being the head chaplain has its benefits, but it also comes with the undesirable task of notifying inmates of lost loves ones.

Questions for Reflection or for Use in Your Small Group 1. Who are some individuals who had an early positive influence on your decision to live as one of Christ's followers? List at least three. 2. Whatever happened to them? If they are still alive, do they know how they affected you? Shouldn't they? 3. Among your circle of friends, is there anyone who looks to you as a role model? What can they learn from you about the life of discipleship? 4. What is the primary unspoken message you want your life to communicate? Say it in one sentence.

As the chaplain listened to his messages, a woman's voice told of the death of an inmate's father, and asked that the inmate be notified. She left her name and number, so Chaplain Green called to express his condolences. The woman said that her husband's name was Ray McGraw and that she had just returned from Jacksonville, Florida, where she had buried him at the Riverview Baptist Church on Lem Turner Road.

The old chaplain was silent for a moment, then asked, "Do you know a man named Joe McGraw?"

"Why of course," came the quick reply. "That was Ray's brother."

Chaplain Green sat quietly for a moment, letting the unbelievable news sink in. Then grabbing his widebrimmed plantation hat, he headed for C yard.

It was early when the door of our cell opened, and the tower cop told Salty to get up and go to the program office. Neither of us had any idea what was going on, but when told to report to program, no one hesitates. Arriving at the offices, Salty met the silver-haired Southern Baptist chaplain. Telling Salty to sit down, Chaplain Green looked into his face and recognized the resemblance to an old friend.

"Mr. McGraw," Chaplain Green's southern drawl was unmistakable. "Is your daddy Ray McGraw?"

"Yes."

"Does he have a brother named Joe?"

"Yes."

Tears began to well up in the old preacher's deep-blue eyes as he told Salty of the passing of his father. Then he relayed the wonderful story of 63 years before, how in a vacant lot on a hot Florida afternoon a young boy had given him the news of salvation. Chaplain Harry Green had never thought in his wildest imagination that there would come a day when he could repay his boyhood friend, Ray McGraw. He told Salty, "You have a friend for life."

Salty returned to our cell, and after a few minutes of sitting in amazement mixed with grief, he told me the whole saga. When he finished, neither of us wondered why God had allowed Salty to be transferred to High Desert rather than Folsom. Since coming here, Salty had given his life fully to God with a show of baptism; he'd given up smoking, lost more than 50 pounds, and become a walking example of how God works.

Although the death of his father was hard, Salty knew he would see him again.

Chaplain Harry Green's amazing testimony shows how closely our heavenly Father knows and cares for each of us. Salty and the old Southern chaplain with the widebrimmed hat became close friends, and this twist of fate has put a new spark back in Harry's life too.

"I have never seen such a miracle in all my years," the chaplain told us.

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Rick Fleck is an inmate in the High Desert State Prison in Susanville, California.