Jesus Grins

Jesus Grins - Richard Callahan

In a world replete with art, we find that beauty is indeed often in the eye of the beholder. The same painting that can convey grandeur and inspiration to one individual can appear nonsensical and dull to another. Amongst God’s paintings, you won’t find a more captivating work of art than that of Richard Callahan. Richard himself would call you a fool to think such a thing, but without a doubt, God has gifted the world with such a masterpiece. Richard comes from a long line of drug users. Both his grandparents (who modeled a physically abusive relationship) used and sold drugs, and passed their drug usage down to his mother, along with her six siblings. Richard’s mother and father met through their mutual drug contacts. The relationship between them was always rocky, which led to frequent moving between Ohio and East Texas for Richard during his growing up years. Stories of drug raids, train robbing, and other various criminal activity by family members were common for him to hear from his grandmother. This was considered to be a normal life until, as a young teen, Richard finally noticed his family was “different”. When his friends would come over, it wouldn’t be long before his parents would openly smoke weed in front of them. His aunts would go on drug- related binges for days, leaving his young cousins alone and resourceless. At one point, Richard even ran away from home due to the constant drugs and fighting. He wanted to confide in an adult at school, but sadly decided that he couldn’t for fear of being considered the family snitch. Moreover, he wouldn’t be any safer with his aunts, uncles or grandparents, so the situation seemed hopeless. Still a young boy, and unaware of any options for escape or refuge, he quietly began to slip into feelings of depression. Around the age of fourteen, smoking weed and drinking with older relatives became a sort of rite of passage within the family. This temporarily seemed to help Richard with his 
depression, and led him to begrudge “society” for trying to control or condemn what his family was doing. Law enforcement, in his thinking, became an enemy as well. This shift in attitude was the start of a slippery descent. Angry and anti-social, Richard now felt like he could do anything he wanted, as long as he could justify it in his own mind. Alcohol and recreational drugs became commonplace. Additionally, being influenced by the popularity of the Wiccan religion at the time, he decided he wanted to worship Satan. The culmination of these life elements led to enough bad decisions that Richard found himself in county jail for the first time at age nineteen. It is frequently when we feel the most distant from God that He is as close as ever, just beyond the curtain of our awareness, doing behind-the-scenes work that will permanently pivot our relationship with Him as we know it. This was certainly the case for Richard as he was preparing to go to prison. An older gentleman in jail who helped look out for him during his stay gave him a challenge. “Callahan, I want you to read the Bible. Stop arguing about who God is until you read the whole Bible for yourself.” Richard accepted the challenge, believing that the Bible was a book of lies, written by men. He wanted to know the “book of his enemy”, as he called it. As he read through the Old Testament, he was unexpectedly influenced by the story of the Hebrews being given only manna in the desert. In prison, he was at least given one tray of food and a cup of juice. Even though he didn’t believe who the Bible claimed God to be, something in that story changed his attitude about his own current situation.

“I couldn’t compete with that,” he remembers. A seed of gratitude was sown.

As he approached the New Testament, he argued that Jesus was less of a man than

other men. By his logic, if Jesus was who He claimed to be, and knew He was the Son

of God, then He didn’t have to live with constant doubt and wondering like the rest of

humanity. In his words, “Jesus was a wimp.” By the time he finished reading the

Gospels however, his thoughts had changed. He realized, “Jesus did something I could

not do. He died for his enemies. In my beliefs, I would let my enemies die. I would die

for somebody I loved. The Bible talks about that. What is it to love people who love you

back? It is true love to love those who persecute you and do you wrong. Jesus did that.

I realized that He was more of a man than I could ever be.” It was during this two-and-a-

half-year stint in prison that Richard committed himself to God. About halfway through

his sentence, he began going to the church services that the prison offered. Worship

was led by a woman singing songs and playing guitar. She and her husband ran a non-

denominational biker ministry out of San Antonio. “The peace and love that she had on

her, and the sincerity... When I saw her I thought, ‘God, I want that. I want the peace

that she has.’ “

At age 22, Richard was released from prison. Although he acquired a job and a

roommate, he still wrestled with the desire to use. He attended church for a while, but

was uncomfortable outside of the familiar prison church that he was used to. Drinking

and smoking weed quickly returned to his life. At age 25, as a result of addiction and

anger-fueled decisions, Richard returned to prison for another two year sentence. This

time around, he felt no desire to change his thinking or behavior. He simply “did his

time” and waited for it to be over. Upon release, and without any parole, he went right

back to drinking and using. His behavior then escalated to burglarizing homes. Within

four months, he was trying to escape on fishing boats in Florida to stay on the run. “I

was really running from myself,” he says. Due to his previous convictions, he was now

punished with a 25-year sentence.

This time around, getting locked up sparked a desire for reform. “When I got the

handcuffs put back on me the third time, that’s when I decided to change,” Richard says.

He was sent to Central Unit in Sugarland, Texas. It was a completely different

environment from his former incarcerations. Previously, he had been relatively in the

middle of nowhere, in facilities that had extremely limited programs for the inmates.

Here, he was offered college classes, in which he partook. He was able to spend time

with the volunteers who came to the prison, and eventually joined the mentor program.

He also participated in a victims-awareness program.

One of the predominant activities during his time in Central Unit was writing to

Houston churches, asking them to send mentors to the prison. At that time, the waiting

list for inmates to receive a mentor could be as long as two years. With his newfound

biblical knowledge, Richard respectfully reminded the churches of the examples of Paul

and Timothy, Moses and Joshua, and Jesus with his disciples. He told them, “Mentors

are biblical! Iron sharpens iron.” Other prisoners began to bring him stamps, asking him

to request bilingual mentors as well. One of the churches he reached out to was

Chapelwood. He received a letter back from Mercy Street, offering to send him

transcripts of the sermons every couple of months. The messages had a great impact

on him, and he anticipated coming to Mercy Street once he was able to.

After serving ten years of his twenty-five-year sentence, Richard was paroled in 2015.

While it would be understandable for him to feel bitter or perhaps robbed of so much of

his life, he instead speaks about the ordeal with humility and deep wisdom.

“It’s ok,” he says. “I deserved it. I don’t feel like I’m a victim of the system or anything like that. I used to feel that way, but this time I really changed my perspective and beliefs. I had to take a look at my family and the way I was raised, and realize that most of the way I was raised was wrong. Now I’m trying to break the cycle that my grandfather started. I’ve got cousins who are trying to do the same thing as me, but then I’ve also got cousins who are the fourth generation of drug users, and who are not doing much with their lives.”

When Richard earns his degree, he will be the first one on his mother’s side of the

family to finish college. He has also begun his own business. When he is not working,

taking classes, or facilitating Toastmasters twice a week, he can be found in the last

place you’d look— back behind bars. In fact, the desire to return to the scene of his

lowest point in life was stirring in his heart before he had even left. Having seen and felt

the need for mentors firsthand, he has become the change he longs to see within the

prison system. He is involved in Mercy Street’s Kairos prison ministry, and mentors at

the Carol S. Vance Unit.

“You build up a rapport with people. You build up a dialogue, a

conversation. You really get to know somebody, and can really help people. As they get

to know you, they trust you and start sharing more. So to me, mentoring is pretty

important in there. The mentoring I received showed me a different example of what a

man could be, and what a man could do in Christ. My mentor has grown into a father-

figure to me.”

Richard has deep admiration for programs like Revision, which attempt to “break the

cycle” before the kids become adults. “Me, I’m trying to break the cycle when they hit

the handcuffs,” he says. He understands the frustration and feelings of hopelessness for

prisoners with lengthy sentences ahead of them. The potential for spending most of

their time gambling and fighting behind bars is a very real threat. Easily sucked into this

mentality, the years go by before inmates realize that they can and need to make

changes for themselves. This is where Richard’s true calling is— trying to connect to the

men in county jail, and to show them that there are programs available, people to talk to,

and ways to break the cycle! Of equal importance, he wants them to take on the

responsibility of helping to better not only themselves, but the other men around them.

He challenges them to start thinking and dreaming about how they can do good, right

where they are, and right now.

“My calling ain’t to go way out somewhere and try to

serve people,” he says. “My calling is to serve them right here, where I’m at.”

What higher calling is there than to love on people who are in a place of brokenness?

What greater act of charity than to pursue individuals whose reality exists within a

system that hardly offers anything life-giving, and rarely encourages acts of kindness? 2

Corinthians 1:3-4, which Richard committed to memory over ten years ago, has become

the theme of his service to God. The New International Version says, “Praise be to the

God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all
comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble
with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”

A significant self-discovery during Richard’s time in prison was that of his great artistic

ability. Starting simply, he purchased carbon paper and other supplies through the

prison commissary, and traced cars out of hot rod magazines. He had no way of

knowing that this God-given passion, discovered within the confines of a cell, would lead

to significant sales and commissioned pieces down the road. When complimented on

his talent and success, he responds with authentic and deep humility.

“I think of God saying, ‘Well done my good and faithful servant.’ When I’ve read that in the Bible, that just makes my heart, like, joyful. I yearn for God to say that to me. And I sure don’t live my life for Him to say that to me, but to me, that would be success. I don’t care if I stay broke the rest of my life. When I go to heaven, if God will say that, or if Jesus will just look and give me a grin, then I’ll be happy. To me, that’s success.”

Years of substance abuse, depression and anger do not define Richard’s life. And by God’s kindness, a prisoner’s time of punishment and isolation would be the genesis of truly stunning works of art. As singer-songwriter Roland Orzabal once wrote,

Some cry shame

Some cry shame

We tore them apart

We failed to imagine

God might claim

God might claim

The works of art

We failed to imagine

Great wide stretches of canvas

Signed by a godless name

Strange bright colors of madness

Only a fool would frame

Sketches of pain.¹

Leave it to God to see beauty where the world sees brokenness. Where we fail to

make sense of the strange colors that seem to be thrown against the canvas without skill

or prudence, He is claiming and reclaiming works of art. And every time Richard

Callahan sits across from a scared, angry, or forgotten man on the brink of

hopelessness, there is no doubt that Jesus grins.

- "Guardians" by Richard Callahan

¹Tears For Fears. Raoul and the Kings of Spain. Sony, 1995. CD.