I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me. Matthew 25:36

“I was in prison…”

“Inmate Spencer, Kevin…Inmate Spencer, report to the Front Gate. You have a visitor.”

That was me. I was Inmate Spencer, Kevin. But I wasn’t expecting a visit. It was a hot summer Saturday in Florida about halfway through my multi-year incarceration. Outside visitors for me were few and far between. I didn’t know anybody in the State of Florida who would be visiting me, and any out of state visits I always knew about in advance. So this was unusual, and in prison anything “unusual” was immediately stressful.

For inmates there is comfort in routine. Having daily events happen when and how they are supposed to happen made our lives easier and safer. Having something happen that you didn’t expect was cause for immediate concern. I didn’t need anymore stress. Living behind bars was stressful enough, but lately I had begun to give up hope of ever going home. God had promised me years earlier, when I had gotten down on my knees and pleaded with him for help, that it would be okay. And while He had kept his promise, and kept me safe so far, I was losing hope. Home seemed so far away. And lately God had seemed pretty far away too.

I dug out my cleanest prison-blue uniform, the one I kept for my rare visits, got dressed, and walked up to the visitation room at the front gate. I really thought it was a mistake. It took awhile to be processed. By the time I was finally cleared into the visitation room, the Florida sun had created sweat stains on my clean uniform. I still had no idea who my visitor was.

I pushed open the door, walked through, and looked around. From a table across the room, a figure stood–the last person I expected to see. With a big grin and open arms, my best friend walked across the room and hugged me. I hadn’t seen Eddie since the troubles that had landed me where I was. I didn’t even know if he was still my friend. But here he was, big as life. Yes, there were tears in my eyes. Clumsily hidden, of course. I was an inmate, after all. But they were there. And the bleak and dark fog I had been living in, suddenly didn’t seem so bleak and dark.

I doubt Eddie knows to this day how much his visit meant; how much it restored me. How, for a couple of hours while we visited, home no longer seemed so far away. But God knew. He knew what I needed. And I should have known He wasn’t really that far away. He had promised me, and His promises are forever. Thank you Father…and thanks, Eddie.

Kevin Spencer lives in Tennessee with his beautiful wife Charlotte and grandson Caleb. A former prodigal son, Kevin is now trying to use the gifts God gave him, and by the grace of God has a life far better than he ever deserved.Read Kevin’s devotions