Have you ever met someone and thought, I have absolutely no idea what to say to you right now?
Have you ever wanted to help someone but felt completely unqualified, unholy, or unprepared?
Have you ever wondered if grace actually works in real life or if it is just something we say in church to sound nice?
Let me tell you a story that answered all of that for me.
Stephen told me about a man in prison who is serving LWOP, life without parole. Which is prison language for, this is it. No release date. No countdown. No hope wrapped in paperwork. Just time stretching endlessly in front of you.
This man was old. Frail. Barely able to stand. Stephen said he kept swaying back and forth like one strong gust of wind could knock him over. The kind of sway that makes you instinctively reach out because your body reacts before your brain does.
Stephen went up to him and said, “Hey, are you okay?” while physically trying to hold him up.
The man looked at him and said, completely casual, “Yeah, I am just high.”
Then he added, “Your Jesus is probably upset with me.”
Now pause.
Because if you are anything like me, your internal church committee probably gasped. Someone somewhere just clutched their pearls. Someone else whispered, “Well, actually…”
Stephen did not correct him.
He did not preach.
He did not quote scripture.
He did not do the dramatic pastor inhale.
He simply said, “I am not here to judge you.”
Then he explained something that I think a lot of Christians forget.
He said every action is on each person’s own conviction.
He explained that he personally does not do drugs because he feels convicted about it. But then he followed that up with the part we all conveniently leave out.
He said, “I still struggle in other areas of sin.”
And just like that, the playing field leveled.
No hierarchy of holiness.
No sin scoreboard.
No spiritual flexing.
Just two imperfect men standing in a prison, both very aware that grace is the only thing keeping anyone upright.
Stephen said the man listened intently. Like really listened. Not nodding to be polite. Not waiting to talk. Listening.
Then the man noticed something.
Another inmate nearby had a book. Stephen’s book. Living the Abundant Life by Stephen Dela Cruz, which yes, you can get on Amazon. Prison ministry with a side of accidental book promotion.
The man wanted that book badly.
So badly that he did what any rational, high, hopeless man serving life without parole would do.
He stole it.
Well. Borrowed it.
Borrowed it creatively.
Stephen said the man told him he was going to take the book from the other inmate while he was sleeping.
Stephen immediately said, “You cannot do that.”
The man said, “I will return it before he wakes up.”
Which is not a great argument but also not the worst one I have ever heard.
And here is where it gets wild.
The man did not just steal the book once. He developed a routine.
Every day, while the other inmate slept, he would carefully take the book. Read one chapter. Then quietly return it before the man woke up.
This went on day after day.
Not binge reading.
Not skimming.
Not skipping ahead.
One chapter at a time.
Honestly, the most disciplined book club I have ever heard of and it is happening in a prison dorm with a stolen book.
Stephen told me this and I laughed and cried at the same time because only God would use a stolen book to change someone’s life.
Eventually, the man finished the book. All of it. Every borrowed chapter.
Then he went up to Stephen and said, “I am ready to stop doing drugs.”
No altar call.
No pressure.
No threats of hell.
No fear based tactics.
Just love. Time. Patience. Grace.
That wrecked me.
Because this man was not clean when he started reading. He was high. He was shaky. He was hopeless. He was serving life. And he was not even sure Jesus liked him.
But no one told him to fix himself first.
No one told him, come back when you are sober.
No one said, God will love you after you change.
No one said, this is not the right order.
They just let him read. Let him process. Let conviction do its own work.
And that is the part we hate.
Because we love control.
We love timelines.
We love visible progress.
We love before and after photos.
Grace does not work like that.
Grace is slow.
Grace is messy.
Grace sometimes looks like a high man reading a stolen book one chapter at a time.
And if we are being honest, that is how most of us came to God.
We were not polished.
We were not sober in all the ways.
We were not morally impressive.
We were just desperate.
This story reminded me that condemnation never changes anyone. It only hardens them. Love is what softens people. Love is what creates space for conviction to grow naturally.
Stephen did not tell this man what to stop doing. He showed him who God actually is.
And when people meet real grace, they want to change. Not because they are scared. But because they finally feel safe.
That is the lesson.
Stop trying to be the Holy Spirit. You are bad at it.
Stop measuring other people’s sin like it somehow makes yours smaller.
Stop thinking grace means approval. Grace means patience.
God is not intimidated by someone being high. God is not shocked by broken people. God is not pacing heaven waiting for us to clean ourselves up.
God works in chapters.
Sometimes stolen ones.
Sometimes slow ones.
Sometimes messy ones.
But He always finishes the story.
If grace can work in a prison dorm with a borrowed book and a man serving life without parole, it can work anywhere. It can work on you. It can work on me.
And maybe the lesson we all need is this.
Love people where they are.
Let God handle the rest.
Remember you are my lovers, whether you love me or love to hate me you are still my lover!
Don’t forget Jesus loves you and so do I!