Erev tov, everybody! I completed this blog post earlier tonight, but somehow I deleted the entire thing! I had spent a lot of time on it too, trying to put into words as best I could what I experienced last Saturday when I visited Jacob Oky and Martin Emeto, two Nigerian Christians who have spent 20 years in an Egyptian prison. So here I go again...

My trip to Egypt went off without a hitch, and I know it was because of the power of the prayers that so many of you were offering to God on my behalf. Everything went smoothly: getting out of Israel and into Egypt, meeting my contact in Cairo, getting in and out of the prison (and spending an hour and a half with Jacob and Martin!), leaving Egypt and returning to Israel, receiving a new three month tourist visa from passport control, all of my shuttle connections--it all happened perfectly. When my BFP family laid hands on me after devotions on Thursday morning before I left and prayed over me and my journey, I had a sense that I was riding on the edge of a huge wave, being lifted up and swept safely toward the goal of the shore by the power and protection of God, and nothing could stand in the way of the movement of this mighty wave! This is exactly what happened too--and again, I know it was because of the prayers of everyone who was lifting me up to the Lord. Thanks to all of you, so very much!

I’ll include some words and photos of my “tourist” time in Egypt, but most of this blog post is going to be about my visit with Martin and Jacob in the prison last Saturday. It will be a rather lengthy report, because I am going to use the writing process to try and get more clarity and insight on the meaning of this important time with our brothers in Christ who have been incarcerated in this dreadful place for nearly 20 years! I wish I could show you pictures, but cameras were absolutely forbidden in the prison, so I only have the images and memories of my experience in my head, beautiful and vibrant and wonderful. It is these that I am going to try and bring to life for you through my writing. Also, my contact in Cairo asked that I not use their names or talk about them too much when I share about my trip to Egypt because they are missionaries to Muslims, but living and working in Cairo with a legitimate profit-making business as their “official” reason for being there. I will honor this request and refer to her as “B.”

Saturday, May 27: I left with B. for the prison at 8:30 a.m. because it takes at least eight hours to make the visit. B. was dressed in her Muslim outfit, and had all of her groceries and things for the guys packed in bags. I had a bunch of practical items from Bridges for Peace to give to them, so we gathered our stuff, loaded the car, and started on our adventure.

The drive to the prison is over an hour. First we headed out into the desert on a very good highway, talking all the way. I learned a lot by listening to B’s commentary about Egypt, the Egyptians, Muslims, Coptic Christians, customs and habits, etc. After we got off of the main highway, we drove through towns and along waterways for awhile, until we arrived at Kanater Men’s Prison. It didn’t look as awful and gross as I thought it would be, and I was grateful for that. We turned left onto a side street and parked next to a smelly canal. Police were all over the place so I didn’t dare take a picture even from here. We put our valuables in the trunk, collected our bags of food and things, and walked to the prison entrance. There is a narrow walkway into the prison itself, and I must admit that a wave of apprehension spread over me as we passed through. One of the women guards took B. into a curtained area to frisk her, and I went into the room where everyone’s bags and possessions were being x-rayed and searched. We went through the metal detector, then I got patted down by a male guard. They are most concerned about people bringing in SIM cards for phones because prisoners aren’t allowed to have cell phones.

From this room, we walked to the registration area, a large, dirty, dilapidated concrete building with open windows--and filled with people waiting to see their friends and loved ones! Really noisy and really smelly, with people standing, sitting on benches, lying on the floor, children running around and crying, and a general hubub everywhere. B. and I went to sign in and that’s where we met Hanan, the Coptic woman who has been visiting the guys regularly in the prison for many years. She is also the one who has sent all of the beadwork and artwork that we have sold in Hilmar to raise money to support the Christians in this prison. (In Egypt, prisoners have to provide all of their own food, clothing, cooking utensils, personal items--everything--and so they try to support themselves in various ways.) Thankfully, Hanan and B. knew just what to do, could speak Arabic, and worked everything out for our visit. It would have been nearly impossible for me to figure all of this out--the paperwork, the questions, the procedures--and I would not have even known what I was required to bring before I arrived!

Then we went to find a place to stand or sit--and wait. Hanan had lots of sacks of food and things for the guys, and we stood with her stuff, adding ours to the pile. Unfortunately, B. had to go to the bathroom. These are filthy, stench-filled rooms at the back of the waiting room, literally just a hole in the ground known as “squatty potties!” While she was gone, I tried to communicate a bit with Hanan, to let her know how much I appreciate all that she does for Jacob and Martin and the other Christians here, but she couldn’t speak any English. Fortunately, there was an English woman waiting to see someone in the prison too, so I chatted with her as B. began to witness to the many Muslims around us, which is her other purpose in coming to this prison on Saturdays. B. has a very interesting and unusal approach too: using her “Koranicube” (a variation on the “Evangicube,” if you are familiar with this pictoral aide for witnessing). She takes people through the message of salvation with the Evangicube pictures--but using verses from the Koran instead, and ultimately pointing out why Issa (Jesus, son of Mary, which is in the Koran) is the Messiah that they are waiting for too. She made six contacts, and every Muslim she shared with was very open and positive to what she said.

All of a sudden we got the word that it was time to get on the tram that would take us to the prison visiting area. Everyone in the room grabbed their things and pushed their way out the door to the tram. The three of us were able to sit together at the back, with all of our bags around and under us, and eventually we headed off, down the lane, to the prison itself. It was quite a long ride, and B. said they used to have to walk this route, carrying everything that they were bringing to the prisoners. That would not have been pleasant! We came to a large steel double gate set into the prison wall, with a smaller door cut in the middle of one side for individual people to enter through. Here we all got off of the tram, gathered around the door--and waited some more! The guards call up one prisoner at a time, then the person’s name who is visiting them, and finally they open the small door and the visitor goes in to meet the prisoner. We were near the end of the group to be called, and when we finally did go through the door, the guard wanted my passport. Needless to say, I did not want to let go of it in this corrupt place, but he was insistent. I finally gave it to him, wondering if I would ever see it again (but trusting this matter to the Lord as well), and passed into the prison itself. For some reason, they wanted to search B. again, and they pushed me ahead, around the corner toward the visiting area...

And before I could even get close to it, I heard a shout, “Daniel! Daniel!” several times--and there came Jacob! He was smiling and laughing, his eyes full of amazement and joy, and he threw his arms around me, rocking me, exclaiming all sorts of joyful things (“You do so much! You do too much! O my good God!”), and I just hugged him back. Then Martin came up as well, but more like a “regular guy,” with less emotion in his greeting, although he still hugged me hard too! I could tell they hardly believed this was all happening. I couldn’t believe it either. Here I was, all the way from Hilmar, California in the USA, face to face with the men our church has been writing to, supporting financially, and praying for, in an Egyptian prison, actually seeing and touching and talking to them, physically present--an absolute miracle of God! There is NO WAY that I could’ve made all of this come together--but here it was, happening right before my eyes! It was too much to take in and digest. After this warm and emotional welcome, they took me into the visitor area (we were never allowed into the actual prison; no one is except the prisoners and guards). It is up against the prison wall in a corner, completely outdoors but with a covering overhead to keep the sun and rain off of everyone and benches for us to sit on. The area in front of this also has a few trees and flowers, which are maintained by the Christian prisoners. We sat down together, and then had an amazing, delightful, powerful hour and a half to be together, which was also a miracle: the usual visiting time is 20 -30 minutes. Jacob kept his arm through mine through much of our conversation, holding tightly to me, grinning with pleasure and with tears running down his dark cheeks from time to time. Martin sat on my right, and I put my arm around his back, sensing the need that these guys have for physical touch. Jacob pulled out two photos of a little baby who was his brother’s son, 17 months old. He said to me that he’d told his brother that if they had a baby boy, they must name him Daniel, after me, because of what I mean to him--and his brother did! I was deeply touched, and humbled. A namesake--a godson--in Nigeria, as a result of my work with our “Friends of the Persecuted Church” group at church! Then Jacob took out a pen, wrapped with thread (a handcraft that he does so well, and that we’ve sold in Hilmar), with the words “Bridges For Peace” woven into it. I was so pleased to receive this gift from him--and then he took out a plastic bag with 30 more pens, all with the BFP name woven into them! I said I could take these back and sell them to my co-workers to raise some more money for him, but he stopped me short. No! He said I must take them back and GIVE them to everyone at the organization, for it is because I’ve been able to work with Bridges For Peace that I was able to make this journey to the prison and visit him and Martin in person! I was amazed at his generosity and at the work he had gone to. I was even more overwhelmed when I learned that he and Martin never received the letters I wrote to tell them I was coming for a visit. Jacob had just learned about this from Hanan during her last visit, so he really worked hard to make all of these pens for me in time. (When I shared all of this at devotions on Tuesday and distributed these pens at the food bank, everyone was also stunned by what Jacob had done.)

Martin told me more about his theological degree that he just completed this spring, and that he and Jacob both want to spend the year after they get out of prison as missionaries, going wherever God sends them so they can testify about Jesus, and how He saved them and got them through their TWENTY YEARS of imprisonment! Martin is due to be released in September and Jacob in October. They know they will have no money, no paperwork or visas, no connections to mission groups or agencies, but they are trusting God, want to follow His leading, and give their first year of freedom to witnessing and evangelizing for the Lord. They hope I can assist them, and I certainly want to do so! How, I don’t know...but God is great and awesome and delights in working miracles in every situation that we think is impossible. We will be praying for this miracle, for direction, and for the right doors to open for them. Martin also told me 300 foreign prisoners live in their part of the jail, with 400 Egyptians housed in a separate building, and that there are 24 Christians in their fellowship group. These guys are in small groups that study and pray together, support one another, and encourage each other. Then they all come together on Sundays for worship and to share what God has been doing in their lives during the week (imagine, what God is doing in their lives--when they live in the confines of a prison!). They also bring their food and make a meal that they eat together, sharing with as many as 80 prisoners, and their Egyptian guards too! Martin said that the Christians keep their cells clean, they are orderly, they are obedient, and do their best to be a positive witness for Christ. The guards appreciate this too, for it makes their jobs easier. He also said that they give the guards gifts at Christmas, and they really look forward to this!

All of this was blowing my mind. I wondered how I would do in their situation, confined in a foreign prison, under oppressive living conditions, surrounded by walls, guards, hostile prisoners--I could only shake my heard in amazement. I was filled with admiration, respect, and awe at the way these guys are living with purpose and meaning in such a horrendous environment. They are “living gospels!” Jacob asked if I could send him the “Covenant Companion” (our monthly denominational magazine) when I finish reading it each month. I sent one to him last year and he thoroughly enjoyed it. He read about mission opportunities in it too, and wondered if he could go out as a missionary through the Covenant! Or maybe could work with Bridges! At one point, he put on his glasses--the very ones that my optometrist, Ruth Bonander, donated to him! We talked about her, and he was very concerned about her daughter’s kidney problems. It seems that every detail of life that we share with these brothers in Christ is precious and important to them. They remember everything, care about our concerns, pray for them, and want to know more about these situations. We should be as concerned, in ongoing ways, for one another. But our lives, so free and easy, get busy, complex, focused on other things... Jacob and Martin also bought soda, water, and non-alcohlic beer for us to enjoy as we talked--again, such warm and generous spirits, wanting to give back in some way, just as we have given to them, spending their precious amounts of money to offer something refreshing to me as we sat outside and talked together, brother to brother.

As the end of our time drew near, Jacob said that he wanted my personal phone number, because as soon as he walks out of the walls of the prison, he wants to call me immediately, before anyone else, and say “I’m free!” But he also said: “Daniel, you have brought me out of death! Today I am free! I am not a prisoner anymore. Yes, I am in prison still, but I am really free!” What can I say to such words of thanks and love and appreciation? I know that my coming to these guys in person was powerful and meaningful and a huge blessing to them, but I don’t think I can fully grasp the true, full impact of my visit on them. It is far beyond my comprehension, because I do not have the perspective they do, as incarcerated human beings living in terrible conditions day in and day out, languishing without freedom, often hopeless, depressed, utterly devastated, and forgotten. And I realized HOW IMPORTANT it is to these guys just to be remembered! To be thought about, known, acknowledged to be alive! To have a connection--a lifeline, really--to people who live in the real world beyond the walls of their prison. Yes, they have God! And Jesus is the most important source of hope and joy and purpose and life for them, just as He is for us who live in freedom, outside of prison. But here is where the importance and the reality of the INCARNATION is true again: these guys need a tangible, human, physical connection with people! To know and feel the touch of human concern, interest, acknowledgment, and love. To lift them out of their dismal, numbing situation and offer them a glimpse of “normal” life and the everyday realities and relationships of people. Just as God expressed His love to us concretely, personally, coming enfleshed in the person of our Savior, Jesus. It’s why Mt. 25:36 and Heb. 13:3 should have a more prominent place in the life and ministry of all Christians--for it is with prisoners that we can have a huge impact on lives that need complete restoration. And what better restorer than Jesus! This experience with Martin and Jacob also pressed on me that I must do more to reach out to them. As all of these insights were coming to me, I felt guilty for not writing to them more often than I do, connecting to them more frequently, for it means SO MUCH to them! Jacob even said “Sometimes I go almost crazy, when I don’t hear from you, sometimes for months! I wonder, ‘where is Daniel?’” Letters get lost, and though I write about every two months and I send money too, it is not enough. I can do much more, easily, and it will mean much more to Jacob and Martin too. I look at Hanan and B. and the time and energy, the effort and assistance they bring continually to these guys, and I feel the conviction that I can certainly offer much more as well.

As I was talking with Martin, the guards suddenly began to start moving around and pushing people toward the exit. I couldn’t believe it! Our meeting was over already! I didn’t want to go; to leave the presence of these dear friends and fellow Christians, after all it had taken to bring me here to them! I wasn’t finished; and when will I ever get to be with them again on this earth? B’s friend, Linus, came up and spoke briefly with me and thanked me for my support too. Then Jacob asked me to pray quickly before I had to go, so he and Martin and Hanan and I held hands and, with my voice choked with tears, I prayed--something! I was too overwhelmed to express all that was filling me. I held Jacob and sobbed, and then Martin and sobbed, and B. had to almost tear me away from them--my brothers in Christ! Jacob even tried to comfort me (“Daniel, it’s OK! “). I kept looking back, waved, and then I was around to the steel gate again. There was my passport, thankfully, and I passed through the little door to the tram outside. I got in, and cried some more. I think B. was amused by this, and Hanan was surprised at my emotional response to being with the guys. In about 10 minutes, the tram returned to the waiting room area, we got off, and slowly made our way out of the prison without any problems. Back at the car, I took a picture of B. and Hanan--then moved my camera over to get a quick shot of the prison. As we drove to the main road, Hannah also slowed down so I could get a couple of closer photos of the prison. Then we were on our way home, my long-anticipated meeting with Jacob and Martin all over.

I was a mixture of emotions, and it was good to talk with B. as we rode along. We commented on the miracles that had taken place today: only 6 hours to make the round trip to the prison instead of 8 or more, waiting just an hour and 15 minutes in the registration area, and having 90 minutes with the prisoners instead of the usual 20-30 minutes. I thought again about all the things that God brought together to make this experience possible for me: airline reservations (El Al), finances (from my congregation), visas, paperwork, contacts and accomodations (B. and her family), transportation (B. again), prison logistics, and of course the opportunity to live close enough to Egypt to make the trip possible (BFP). Miracle after miracle--and my heart was overwhelmed by it all. I was thankful to God, to everyone who provided some aspect of the trip, and to everyone who contributed to this amazing time through prayer--powerful, effective, petitionary prayer! As with so many of the things I have encountered during my sabbatical time, my life has been deeply affected by this experience. I pray it will continue to make a difference in the way I live and work and minister in the days ahead.

I hope these thoughts and reflections have been interesting to many of you, and that I have been able to give you a meaningful glimpse into my fantastic visit with Jacob and Martin. If you would like to encourage them with a note or letter, they would love to hear from you too! it is very easy to write to them:

Jacob Oky/Martin Emeto
Kanater Men’s Prison
Kanater Al-Kharia
Qualyobeya - 13621
Egypt

Also, they are going to need even more financial help when they are released from prison later this fall. They will have fines to pay, exit costs, paperwork to pay for, and of course they will need money for transportation home to Nigeria. If you would like to assist them with these needs, you can send a check to “Hilmar Covenant Church” - PO Box 340 - Hilmar, CA 95324. I will deposit it in the account we have for these guys and send it to them when they need it.

Finally, I would ask that you continue to pray for Jacob and Martin: for their continued difficult existence in the prison, for God to supply all their needs, for guidance in their lives after prison, especially about their desire to be missionaries for the first year that they are free, for their families (there is such a stigma attached to being in prison in their culture), and that they can adjust to a free life after spending half of their lives in confinement (Jacob is 40 and Martin is 48). Remember these words from Scripture:

Hebrews 13:3 - “Remember those in prison as if you were their fellow prisoners, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.

Matthew 25: 36 - “I was in prison and you came to visit me.”
25:39 - “When did we see in prison and go to visit you?”
25:40 - “The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’”

Shalom from Jerusalem!





Photos: 1: front entrance of Kanater Men’s Prison 2-3: Jacob’s nephew, “Daniel!” Notice the angel wings--an angel, just like me...