The Legacy of Loneliness

There is no better place for me to share this message except to go back in time to my incarceration in prison in 1976. 

By progression, loneliness has phases in which to understand and be aware of. 

Social loneliness occurs when you feel a lack of a wide social network or broad social connections, such as a lack of friends or acquaintances to be with. 

Emotional loneliness is characterized by the absence of a close, intimate, or attachment figure, leading to a lack of meaningful, supportive relationship. 

Situational loneliness is a type of specific circumstance that stems from a life change like moving to a new place, or the loss of a loved one who suffered a chronic illness.  You loved them all the way to death. 

Chronic loneliness is a severe form that combines social and emotion loneliness, or a prolonged state of both, leading to significant negative impacts on one’s mental and emotional health.  This is where depression sets in, and suicidal thoughts are entertained. 

What about this legacy of loneliness? 

In a maximum-security prison in 1976, I suffered from the effects of 7 years of addiction prior to my prison term.  That itself, created loneliness as I was covering up pain in my heart and secluded myself from the outside world through sticking a needle in my arm daily and injecting drugs.  Several different mind-altering substances that fueled my loneliness. 

Though I was surrounded by 2,300 other inmates, I was a loner and kept to myself.  That gave me one advantage over some of the other men.  I had less of the bad interactions and fights that would have resulted in more pain.  I was already in physical pain from the field work daily, and the pain in my mind from the aftereffects of the addictions and heartaches which accompanied me all the way to prison. 

There was not a social disconnect on my part.  It was more of a survival instinct. 

My decent into depression manifested into a plan to end my life, yet Jesus Christ intervened on my behalf and saved my soul.  That was 49 years ago, and I have been preaching deliverance, forgiveness of sin, and salvation in Christ for a very long time. 

Fear of the unknown is the seed by which loneliness is birthed. 

What was Jesus going through prior to His death on the Cross? 

He was first anticipating abandonment by His Father.  He foretold His disciples would leave Him alone during His arrest and trial, saying, “A time is coming and in fact has come when you will be scattered, each to your own home.  You will leave Me all alone.  And yet I am not alone, because the Father is with Me.  These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace.  In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”  John 16: 32-33. 

On the Cross, Jesus cried out, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”  Matthew 27: 46.  He felt the pain like we do as He was a man and God at the same time. 

He felt loneliness to the maximum level in this life at that moment. 

The only moments of solitude Jesus really had was intentional as He withdrew to quiet, lonely places to pray and connect with His Father. 

An example He leaves with us to do. 

Jesus encouraged His followers to join Him in solitude, encouraging them to find rest and a deeper connection with God in quiet moments. 

How then do we find ourselves as believers in Jesus, in a deep, dark cave of despair?  What happened to us or around us to cause Christians to be so lonely? 

Divorce, abandonment, abuse, disappointments, failures, let-downs, and broken promises are only a few that lend to the spiraling out of control in our faith.  Faith is paramount in rising from the fog of failure or the rejection of others in our lives.  We must, at some point, pull up our bootstraps in prayer, and cry out to Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith in Him.  If we can’t do it alone, get spiritual help too. 

Isaiah 43: 19, “Behold, I will do a new thing, now it shall spring forth; shall you not know it?  I will even make a road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” 

This is characteristic of a true promise from God, who is the only One who can do a new thing.  We must position ourselves to overcome our sadness and our sorrow and believe in this one promise above all else.  He can, and He will DO a new thing. 

I needed many new things in the 49 years of serving Jesus Christ. 

Prior to my hour of Salvation on Mother’s Day morning, May 8th, 1977, while inside the chapel in prison, I was two seconds away from my suicide plan.  God rescued me and kept me from my demise because He wanted to do a new thing in me.  He wanted to use my life if I could ever realize that He is the only One who would never break His promise to me.  He is the only One who will never abandoned, reject, abuse, or ridicule me.  

 He is a loving Father and He knows my pains in this life.  He knows yours too.  If He can pull me out of the deepest, darkest depression that I was in; then He can and will do the same for you.  You and I must get to a place where we stop believing the world and the diagnosed labels that the doctors put on us.  It is, in my opinion, demonic to take a small child who has tremendous energy and put them on Ritalin drugs to help with the “hyperactivity.” 

Insanity.   

Do not misunderstand.  I know there are ailments in the body and mind.  I am not ignorant in knowing some people, young or old, suffer with neurological and physical sufferings. 

There is medication that works outside of any surgeries and there are also times when people are mis-diagnosed. 

I ought to know. 

Case in point was in1975 prior to going to prison. 

I had overdosed on Meth, and several other drugs in Austin, Texas.  I was found directing traffic and arrested.  Sent to detox with no medical evaluation while in jail.   Three days and nights of suffering in a detox tank in jail, led me further into my depression.  I was transferred on a police department temporary hold, to the Austin State Hospital for evaluation.  My probation was not revoked.  Not yet anyway. 

I was evaluated alright.  Wrongly diagnosed in my opinion. 

Here I was, only three days of sobriety from a major overdose, and was told by the physician that I was Manic Depressive manic.  No communication.  No talks with me.  No allowing the drugs that I had ingested to be discarded fully from my physical system. 

No other counseling or questions on their part to find out why I had overdosed. 

Had they asked me, I would of probably told them that I had been shooting dope since my mother died four years earlier.  If they had asked me how I felt about her dying and my daddy being murdered three years after mom died, I might have said, “I hate life, and I want to just get high and be left alone.  I might have said that I am sick of living and want to die.” 

No questions.  No answers.  I was given drugs to combat the depression and psychosis. 

Hence, no help, just more addiction.  At least the drugs were legal, and I did not have to drive all over Dallas looking for my connection who had the Meth. 

Here is my point.   

The legacy I was creating from my addicted years that led to the loneliness and despair,  could have been properly diagnosed by the professional doctors.  They might have realized that all I needed was to fully sober up and have some quality counseling or treatment outside of pumping me full of Thorazine and Lithium.  That did not happen. 

I do not harbor any blame or hold on to remorse.  They did the best they could.  

 Enter Jesus. 

HE saved me.  He healed me.  He set me free from all the addictions and He alone, with the Power of the Holy Ghost, infused me with His love and mercy and grace.  His forgiving power set me free and did give me the joy I had been searching for all my life from the time I was born, until I ended up in prison at age 20. 

“Don’t tell me He can’t do it.   

I have seen too much, and I have been a part of seeing thousands come to Christ through the preaching and teaching of God and His Holy Word. 

I have anointed with oil, thousands of men, women and children, and have seen miracle upon miracle both physical ones, and emotional miracles. 

“Who the Son sets free, is free indeed.”  John 8:36. He has truly come to set the captive free.  Not just from prison bars like He did for me.  HE can set us free from all the issues of life that beset humans.  There is nothing impossible for them that believe. 

What does your life look like at this very moment you are reading this story? 

Are you depressed?  Are you lonely?  Are you building a legacy of loneliness because you don’t know what to do? 

Understand this.  It all begins with accepting Jesus into your heart and then trusting Him to fulfill His promise in Psalm 147: 3. “I have come to heal the brokenhearted and bind up their wounds.” 

Identify the wounds you have suffered all the way back into your childhood if necessary. 

Lay it all out.  The bad, the ugly, the painful and the impossible. 

Lay it out, then lay it at the feet of Jesus. 

He will destroy the pain.  His power and His love will cleanse us from all unrighteousness, and He forgives and forgets out sins.  His Presence brings liberty and freedom. 

Legacy: Something that is handed down or transmitted from the past to the present or future.  This can refer to a gift of money or property left in a will, but also broadly encompasses a person’s achievements, values, or character; traditionally; the lasting impact of several events, actions, or ideas; or a person with a familial connection to a history of good education or moral training. 

Legacy only counts if loneliness and despair are not attached to it.  Otherwise, you are leaving behind a history of pain which can be spiritually transferred to your children and grandchildren.  The curse must be broken, and it is broken once you are saved and set free by Jesus Christ.  My two sons will never be drug addicts or prisoners. 

It is the best legacy I can leave to them.  Not money, but Jesus.  That is a legacy worth leaving behind. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Three Bucks on a Hill-More to Come

A “stag” is a mature, adult male deer, particularly from a larger species like the red deer or elk.  While “deer” refers to any animal in the Cervidae family, the term “stag” specifically denotes an adult male.  Bucks are also male deer, but the word “stag” is considered more accurate in terms of a fully grown male deer in this larger species. 

I have always wondered about the characteristics of these beasts.  They are distinguished by their large, branching antlers, which grow annually and are shed in the winter. 

These “stags” symbolize rebirth, rejuvenation, and adventure due to their cycle of growing and shedding their antlers. 

 

Courage and survival are built into these four-legged male deer.  Often hunted for their rack of antlers, they survive to live and die.  They know how to listen for the hunters who stalk them.  They are keen in their senses including the sense of smell and are often becoming the aggressor when cornered. 

Their lifespan in the wild is between 10-13 years and in captivity, they can live up to 20 years. 

 

“Why all this history about an animal?” 

In many ways, the male species called “man” is also familiar to this wild beast. 

Example: “A little three-year-old boy; if given a Barbie doll, will rip off one leg and use it to act out the sights and sounds of a semi-automatic weapon.  He will use it like a rifle, and “rat-a-tat-tat" his enemies, even if Barbie still has her high heel shoes on. 

 

Boys will be boys, and, in this day and age, I choose to identify as a grown man with a little boy attitude towards mankind.  I am a protector of those I love, and I support the downtrodden.  Like the “stag” deer, I will care for my wounded family in all manner of restoration and healing. 

 

Hence the three bucks, living to die. 

I will use my two grown sons as the example of this story. 

 

I was never to have children according to the expert doctors I saw. 

I had lost all my internal, reproductive plumbing in my last encounter with the Police Department.  I was beaten until I had surgery, and, after the fact, I was deemed sterile with no living fish.  For twenty years after prison, I was told by the medical community that it was impossible to have children.  I had bought the lie in my Christian Walk and received the bad news prior to marriage to my current wife. 

 

I was married in July of 1998, and around November of this same year, my wife came down the stairs in our home to reveal the news.  She sat a paper sack on the living room floor as I watched the gleam in her smile. 

 

I asked her, “Is that my lunch for work today?”  She never said anything except, “Just open it.” 

 

To my amazement, it was a 12-inch-tall plastic baby bottle, filled with pacifiers. 

Stunned, I asked her, “What is going on?” 

 

She stated, “I am pregnant.”  I gasped and thought silently to myself, “Who is the father?” 

 

This is not funny, but true because once you buy the lie from the doctor's report, and once you allow the “news” to penetrate your soul, then there is no hope.  Just like the deer, trying to live to die, my hopes of ever being a father, were long forgotten prior to this day.  I had bought the ultimate lie.  “The doctors must be right.”  

 

Well, they had run their many tests over the years and had confirmed that my reproductive fish were indeed dead.  In fact, I had no fish in the pond to swim upstream or to be used to make a baby to start with.  NO hope. 

 

So, this day brought many tears of joy, knowing God had healed me and on May 13, 2000, my first-born son was born.  Male stag.  14 months from this day, my second buck was born.  Now it is truly, three bucks on a hill.  Living to die.  Living for Jesus and dying to our flesh.  An ongoing process of maturity and growing up to serve the Master Jesus.  All three of us. 

I remember when my first-born was in the womb.  I would talk to this baby by speaking to this God-given, miracle child.  I would get as close to the wife’s tummy as I could and speak loudly, “You are to be a Shepherd.  You will have a Pastor’s heart.” 

 

Then, when my second child was in the womb, I would prophesy again, “You will be a Prophet to the Nations.” 

 

We did not want to know the gender in advance with an ultrasound.  We wanted to live with the surprise of “a boy or a girl.”  Either way, we would give God all the Glory. 

 

Fact is, we had two sons.  Two bucks, to run around with their Daddy like three bucks on a hill. 

 

It is a fact today in 2025, my oldest, who is 25 now, is a Shepherd.  Though he does not Pastor a church, he has the distinct gift from God to “disarm” people, and minister to their hurts and pains.  He is gifted to counsel them according to God’s Word, and all of this comes naturally.  Not because I prophesied this, but it is a fulfillment of God’s promise to me to restore the years the swarming locust have eaten.  

 

Joel 2: 23-37, “Be glad then you children of Zion, and rejoice in the Lord your God; for He has given you the former rain faithfully, and He will cause the rain to come down for you, the former rain, and the latter rain in the first month. 

The threshing floors shall be full of wheat, and the vats shall overflow with new wine and oil.  So, I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the crawling locust, the consuming locust, and the chewing locust, My great army which I sent among you.  You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God, Who has dealt wondrously with you; and My people shall never be put to shame.” 

 

Prior to prison, I was a pathetic maniac who had lost many years of my life to addiction.  Violence and attempted murder were part of my police record prior to entering prison at age 20.  I was a sick “stag” with antlers that were broken.  My hide was tough but had many scars from bullet wounds and fistfights.  My hooves were cracked and bleeding from running from the police.  I was running away from life, and God. 

 

Once I was saved by Jesus while still in prison, I had a bunch of growing up to do.  Year after year, I would shed my antlers and try and grow new ones.  Hoping the new antlers would hold up to my traumas in life.  Suffering and pain were very common inside of my broken heart of hearts.  Now I have two stag sons who can avoid the pitfalls I jumped in to with both my feet. 

 

My second son is truly coming into his own as a true minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  He has spoken to many men in prison certain things that only God and the prisoners could know.  He recently spoke prophetically while in a church in the Northwest this last August of 2025.  It is called the gift of discernment and the Word of Knowledge.  His personality is one that is best described when he teaches or preaches as, bold with grace.  “Get in, get out, or get run over, is his way of ministering this Gospel of grace.  He does it with love, but also with a kind of boldness that depicts petting a cat backwards.  “MEOWWWW!”  Scratch and run for the hills. 

 

I see attributes in both of my sons like the stag deer.  They do not really take after me but are using some of my descriptive stories in their ministry endeavors to teach people more about what NOT to do, rather than TO DO.  Both have their Daddies DNA, but the Spirit of the Lord is in both, as they pursue the hills to climb in this life. 

 

I can’t be here forever as the “Old Pop” one of them refers to me as.  I am the old buck on the hill.  Yes, I am living, but I am really dying to self-daily to be the best version of Jesus I can be.  I am human and am weak and frail at times.  I am the old stag who has run up many mountains.  I have crawled on my belly in the valleys of sorrow I have experienced.  I have shed my antlers, repeatedly, that many times, were twisted and broken as they grew out.  Deformed and unhealthy. 

 

Time ticking by and trials have taken their toll on my body.  I have hooves that are sore and that need stag-shoes nailed to them to endure the rocks and stones of the pathways I tread upon. 

 

These three bucks on the hills of life are trying their best to be themselves.  We are trying to be a little bit like Jesus, enduring hardships as they come.  Never giving up.  Never quitting as we are the “hunted” by the enemy of our souls.  We are fighters.  Not quitters. 

We fight the good fight of faith, and we strive to lay hold of eternal life which is ours in Christ Jesus. 

 

Like father like son, is an over-statement.  I do not want my boys, who are grown men now, to be like me.  I want them to be like Jesus.  Tough skinned and tender hearted. 

Eventually they will get old like me should the Lord not come back yet.  They will learn to shed the tough skin or hide that reveals their own scars.  They will remain tender hearted towards the Lord Jesus Christ. 

 

My oldest “stag” is 25 and now married to the love of his life.  She is his doe.  The best mate he could ever “rut” over and win to his heart.   He is her buck.  Together they make a fine wine, aged with time and better as the years pass.  My prayer is for them to remain faithful to each other as they stay true to Jesus.  He is the leader of their hearts. 

 

My youngest, who is 24, is pursuing his dream up in the Northwest.  He flew the coop last evening on September 2, 2025.  His heart is to be like Jesus too.  He is a man of God who wants to have God continue to “create in me a clean heart O God and renew a right spirit within me.”  Psalm 51: 10.   

 

Like David in the Bible, my youngest son is becoming a king of sorts.  His heartfelt plea for divine purification and spiritual renewal after his faults, is a righteous expression of a heart after God’s heart. 

The “Debra” or prophetess and judge of Israel understood oppression.  She lived centuries before David, serving as Israel’s judge during a period of pain before the rise of the monarchy.  Both David, in his time, and her in the time she was a judge, are uniquely significant figures in Israel's history.  Their stories are intertwined.  Like two hearts, connected by fate for a nations Sovereignty.  And restoration. 

 

My prayer for my two bucks today is a simple one.  Let every year be restored.  Let every decision be prayed through.  “Let everyone who has breath, praise the Lord.” 

 

My two sons are living.  Not living to die.  Living to die to the past.  Living to please their Master Jesus.  I am a proud father today.  Very proud of them.  Very proud. 

 

As the days go by, and the three bucks walk slowly down the hill, the two young ones will look behind them briefly.  They will see their Daddy buck, trudging slower and more carefully.  I do not want them to slow down for me.  Please don’t. 

 

Just keep following the footsteps of Jesus.  He will never leave you abandoned. 

 

When my time comes to meet my Master, I will have left behind some hooves in the mud on the hill.  Someday I hope the two of you will go back to the hill you were raised on and look at my last hoof prints.  Look carefully.  See their size and deep measures in the imprints left in the tracks you both walked with him.  If you look closely, you will see that the prints in the mud are not as deep as they were many years ago. 

The reason that they are not as deep is simple.  Back when you were both born, I carried you down the hills in life.  You became heavy over time which left the prints deep and wide. 

It is a good thing to see them after I am gone.  You will notice they are not as deep any longer.  They were intended to be this way now sons.  It is because I am no longer carrying you on my shoulders.  It is not needed anymore. 

 

You both are left behind to be the bucks on the hill now.  Live.  Live to die to this world and its worthless values.  Die to self.  When you both do this, you will find that Jesus becomes the fullness of all your dreams and desires. 

 

Look now off in the distance.  Look into the forest.   

 

Next time you both see a deer on the side of the highway or see a buck running by on the land near Bandera where I now live, remember this story. 

 

Remember, you both were never supposed to be born to live.  You almost did not make it.  But you did.  Now you live. 

 

The sun will set someday and when the darkness of night comes, just remember your place in the herd.  Lead them.  That was what you both were born to do anyway.  You know the way.  He is the Way.  And He is the Truth.  Just like this story.  You both know it is true, and Jesus made the decision to bring you into this herd. 

All we must do is see the forest for the trees.  The other deer are there too.  I know in my heart that the two of you will stand out amongst the herds in life.  You were designed by God to do this. 

 

Someday these two stags will leave their own footprints behind, and they too will leave a mark on this life.  Those imprints are going to tell their own story.  Some old buck left behind the pattern to follow.  Run boys.  Run fast young men. 

Three bucks on a hill.

What a journey we have had.  More to come, I am sure.  Let us pray so. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Missing the Mark

God has a divine standard of righteousness, and humanity, through its sinful nature, consistently fails to meet it, thus missing the mark. 

Of course, no one is perfect as everyone has sinned and fallen short of God’s glory, regardless of their moral or religious background. 

 

Because we consistently “miss the mark,” we are incapable of achieving righteousness or bridging the gap to God through our own efforts or in our own strengths. 

God, through His Son Jesus Christ’s work on the Cross, provides the only way to be forgiven, and restored to Him. 

The only way to “hit the target” of God’s will and His mark, is to correct our position with God through repentance and a true Godly sorrow.  This is the only way to be made right with God. 

The only way to miss this “mark” is to stop paying attention and finding that our attention has been off the target through the many distractions in this life.   If we stay focused, there is no way to miss it. 

First, we must believe that we are saved by Christ in the first place, and that God has a reason and a purpose in our salvation in Jesus.  There is a divine destiny on Earth that we must strive for and fulfill in our lives.  If we do anything else than to complete what He has in store for us, then we not only missed the mark, but we also find that our arrow never really left the bow.  We will always miss all the shots we never take.  It is called faith. 

Paul said, “I press towards the mark or the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”  Philippians 3:14. 

Here is how “pressing in” looks like by describing what it does not look like first. 

Not pressing in comes in many different ways.  When I do not feel good.  When it is not convenient.  Those times that it seems too hard.  When everyone is against me.  When I am confused about what to do and who to do it with. 

It is when we are weak that He becomes strong for us in our daily pressing in. 

Truly there are no excuses for any laziness or complacency in a Christian’s life.  We choose where we spend our time and how we spend our time.  If Jesus is first and foremost, then He will receive all the Glory as we press towards this high calling in Christ that Paul spoke about. 

The Greek word for “sin” is the word hamartia, literally means to miss the mark or to fail in one’s purpose. 

I have around 200 stories from my past where I totally missed the mark, but I will only share one or two. 

It was the day before I got out of prison.  The date was September 18, 1977. 

One day to go to my ultimate freedom.  I was saved and trying to live for Jesus for the last four months of my incarceration.  I was born again on May 8, 1977, which was Mother’s Day morning. 

So, on this September day prior to my final release from the pre-release center near Houston, Texas, I had several prayers and hopes about what to do and where to go.  I was very undecided in my spirit.  Remember, I was a baby in Jesus with the normal spiritual diaper changes needed, and the milk of His Word was very limited in prison. 

I was in malnutrition as an infant in Jesus Christ.  Literally starving and a bit dirty around the edges of my young 21-year-old life.  I needed a diaper change or two. 

I was taken, with around a hundred other men who are getting out soon, to a theatre room with comfortable seating throughout this large room. 

I was sitting on the front row listening to all the things being presented regarding how to function outside of the steel bars and concrete of prison living. 

At the end of the meeting, a man from a ministry in Tyler, Texas came up to me and asked me several questions which I could not answer.  I did not know where I was going or what I was to do with my Christianity. 

Finally, after a few minutes of quizzing me, he said to me, “You need to come to Tyler tomorrow when you get out.”  He knew I was leaving on September 19th, as I told him that when he introduced himself in the beginning of our short conversation. 

He went on and invited me to the ministry there and that he had a bed for me, and that I could work a job and begin, what he saw in me, regarding ministry.  One of his first questions to me was, “Do you know you have a call of God on your life?” 
I answered him, “I don’t know.”  (Like a sniveling puppy with a thorn in his paw.) 

So, I had my answers from the Lord as to where to go and what to do.  The Holy Ghost set me up the day before I was to leave with both answers to my original prayers I had prayed.  “Where was I going, and what was I to do?”  I had a mark and a direction to aim at.  Clear and concise.  No need to guess any longer for my future. 

I never got on the bus to go to Tyler.  I had money and I had the God plan, but I ignored it, and thought that I could come later after my vacation I wanted to take.  I had been in prison and, by all means, I deserved a vacation.  That was not God.  That was me being selfish. 

A few weeks went by, and I ended up in a town near my Aunt Wanda.  I never went to Tyler. 

I missed the mark.  In fact, I was never able to hit that mark because I felt so guilty and shameful for letting the Lord down.  I never went and fulfilled God’s calling until many years later.  It was 1991 when I finally surrendered to God and His will for my life, and I have never turned back since then.   

It is now 2025, and I have been preaching in prisons all over America and beyond for 34 years.  To God be the Glory for taking me back and cleaning me up and feeding me the nourishment I needed.  No excuses for me once I grew up.  Got to leave the nest eventually.  I did, and I have never looked back. 

The sins of commission, which is doing what is wrong, are different than the sins of omission.  Failing to do what is right is a sin when we know what we should do, but do not do it.  We fail for many reasons, but both sins keep us from hitting the mark or target. 

Therefore, to him that knows to do right, and does not do it, to him it is sin.  James 4: 17. 

I have known to do right in the 48 years since the day of my Salvation in Christ.  I have chosen over all these years to do wrong, hundreds of times.  “Why may you ask?”  Several reasons. 

One, is the fact that, even though I was a believer in Jesus, I still had a broken heart and was spiritually bleeding to death.  I had to have my heart healed.  That day came in 1994. 

Another reason was not understanding God’s will and trying too hard to find it.  We do not have the right to bounce from church to church to find God’s will.  We should never go online and look for a prophetic word from a so-called prophet.  That too is hogwash. 

My financial decisions that were made back then, were not properly prayed through on my part.  This cost me a bunch of time and money which was wasted, thinking it was God’s will.  All along there were red flags that it was not God’s will.  Pride kept me from making good decisions when it came to money back in the 1990’s. 

I remember hearing a message on prosperity in a mega-church one morning, and how the “man of the home” should be the priest of his home, and that he should believe God by sowing into that ministry.   

Nothing wrong with sowing finances into a ministry that has good soil.  In hindsight, I remember I sowed for the wrong reasons.  Many of my decisions were selfish.  I wanted to look the part of the Christian who is prospering.  I did not want people to think that I was not “blessed” and that my soul was prospering in the way that the preacher said it should.  In other words, I put the cart before the horse.  I had no horse-sense.  I was like a mule in my heart.  “Hee-Haw.” 

I took my older car into a dealership and traded it for a brand-new Lincoln Town Car.  I wrote a check to cover the down payment.  The only problem was, I did not have the money in my account to cover the down payment yet.  I had been promised some money over that weekend, and it did not materialize.  I was going to make the check good by Monday, but the check went through too early.  To make a long story shorter, the check was bouncing all over that new car dealership floor. 

I could not make it good in time, and the dealership called me. 

I went to the dealership office and talked with the manager.  He was about ready to call the police to turn me in for a bounced check which was large enough for a felony, not a misdemeanor.   

“Boy, did I pray.” 

Silently, I repented and said to the Lord, I will never do that again.  I was stupid and greedy and wanted to be something I was not for the sake of other people looking at me “prospering.” 

The moment in my silent prayer when I said, “In Jesus name, amen,” the manager left the office and said he was going to make that call to the police. 

Ten minutes went by as I was looking out his glass window of the office towards the main street in front of the dealership.  I was looking for the black and white cop cars that were to arrive in minutes. 

Fear.  Not fear of the unknown.  But fear that I was going to be arrested for fraud or whatever the charges were going to be.  Jail was waiting for me.   

Explain that to your Pastor. Better yet, explain that to my future wife.  “OUCH!”  

She had no idea what I was doing.  She did find out though.  Once she saw that new car one evening after I bought it, all she did was shake her head from side to side and rode home with her mother from church.  She refused to ride with me.  She did not want any part of the new leather smell of a new car.  My spiritual stench she smelled was my greed and stupidly.   

After the fact, I had to confess all of this to her and that was painful to say the least. 

Suddenly, the office manager walked back in with my rubber check, and the keys to my old trade-in car, and said, “I am going to unwind this contract and tear up the paperwork you signed.  Here are your keys to your trade in.” 

I handed him the keys to the brand-new Lincoln and ran out as fast as I could without running a sprint.  God redeemed me, but the humility and the embarrassments that followed were too painful to explain.  It is a wonder that my future bride did not explode on me.  She wanted to, but because the Holy Spirit showed her what “not” to say, she left me alone in my temporary misery.  I missed the “mark.” 

My bank also called me in and shut down my checking account.  I had to pay the fees for that bounced check, and they had every right to legally pursue charges as well.   God redeemed that too.  Not because I was a Christian.  But because He knew I would learn a valuable lesson about money and prestige.   

Lesson number one:  All money I earn or is given to me for ministry purposes belongs to Jesus Christ.  He is my banker, and He decides where it should go.  Secondly: there is no prestige to be had.  Thirdly: “IF we do not understand or fully learn these two lessons and decide to be stupid again, then we must refer back to lessons one and two.”  Hopefully we will learn the first time.  I did.  The pride and ignorance on my part were because I did not trust God.  I trusted my instincts. 

No more merry-go-round with money for me.  I learned a hard and fast lesson about my soul prospering. 

The mark that I should have aimed my arrow at was truly a target of honesty and integrity. 

James 1: 14 declares, “But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed.” 

I should have known better, but the world and my lust of my own flesh and the lust of my eyes and the boastful pride of life, (1st John 2: 16) hooked me like a catfish eating raw liver bait.  I swallowed the bait and almost died financially and spiritually. 

1st John 3:4, “Whosoever commits sin, transgresses also the law; for sin is the transgression of the law.”  Meaning, that this lawlessness emphasizes that it’s not just about specific actions but a disregard for God’s law and His will.  It highlights that sin is a transgression against God’s commands and a rejection of His authority.  The verse serves as a strong condemnation of sin and a call to repent and then learn a lesson to avoid it completely.  Repeating this insanity, will cost us more than we are willing to pay. 

When you and I get duped into temptation by our own personal lusts, we look back and can’t see the mark any longer.  It is too far away, in a sense, to see because our sin is fogging up our eyes with darkness.  Subtly at first.   

Then, by continuing in it, the spiritual color begins to change.  Next is the gray area. Then charcoal, then full-blown darkness.  Blindness ensues and it is very painful to get our sight back because only the Holy Spirit can help us to see again.  Outside of this, the man-made efforts to live clean in an unclean world is just a mirage.  Our own strength fades in time, and we come to the end of our rope, holding on for dear life. 

I would rather repent early on and avoid the consequences of a long-term sinful decision or decisions which will cost much more than our money or time. 

So, next time we pull out our bow and our quiver, and reach in for that arrow, stop.  Think.  Pray. And then pray some more.  

 If you and I do not have any peace about a decision; seek the Lord.  Get counsel that comes with someone who has more integrity than yourself if need be.  The Lord Jesus will give us our answer.   

We will never hear God’s YES answer, until we obey the NO answer that has already been given to us by the Lord.  Just a thought. 

I would rather hit the mark in the center of the target. 

Practice makes perfect.  Better yet; perfect practice will keep us from missing the mark.  We will not be perfect because faith will force us to live by its laws.  Faith keeps us humble in seeking to try and hit the mark. 

“Because without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who earnestly and diligently seek Him.”  Hebrews 11: 6.   

We must attain ears to hear and the eyes to see what the Lord Jesus wants for us.  Without it, we will never hit that mark. 

“How is your eyesight today?” 

 Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Restoration Prison Ministry: September 2025 Newsletter

September-2025

Dear Partners,                                                                                                                   

 

Time seems to keep moving faster than we want to, yet much is happening regarding the prisons and the changes I see in the men.  The weekly class I do in a prison about an hour from home, is becoming a true harvest field for souls. 

 

Men come every time to the altar for prayer.  Either they are surrendering to Christ for the first time, or they are re-affirming their faith.  Many come to be set free from their past issues from life.  Last Tuesday, 70 men were at the altar for prayer for many different reasons.  It is always my honor to pray for their needs and agree with them according to God and His Word. 

 

James 5:16-18 declares several truths.  “Confess your trespasses to one another, and pray for one another, that you may be healed.  The effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man avail much.  Elijah was a man with a nature like ours, and he prayed earnestly that it would not rain; and it did not rain on the land for three years and six months.  And he prayed again, and the heaven gave rain, and the earth produced its fruit.” 

 

At the altar weekly in this prison, God is producing much rain.  Though the men feel they are in a spiritual drought, the rain of God and His mercy and grace, floods their individual souls and the healing process begins.  Repeatedly, I see this as the Lord moves upon the men's hearts weekly.  It is His Word and His presence that causes the changes.  I am humbled weekly that the Lord uses me to deliver the message and it is always a miracle to see the Lord Jesus change men.  One soul at a time. 

 

Fervent prayers are ones that are passionate, intense, and wholehearted, reflecting a deep earnestness and commitment to God. 

Effectual prayers emphasize that the prayer is productive, capable of producing the desired result, and powerful in its outcome. 

“A righteous man” implies that a person whose life is rightly ordered before God, leading to a connection with Him that makes their prayers powerful. 

 

Please continue to pray for this weekly meeting as the Lord is doing a great work in the Torres Unit prison in Hondo, Texas. 

This upcoming September 7th will be another great time of ministry at the Ferguson Unit prison in Midway, Texas.  I will be traveling the four hours from home on the Saturday prior to the three church services inside this maximum-security prison. 

 

The first service is at 8 a.m. Sunday morning in the main unit inside the Prodigal  
Son Chapel.  The very chapel that I was born again in 1977 awaits the message of hope that the Lord will give me for that service. 

 

Following this service, I will go next door to the trustee camp for an 11 a.m. service to those men who live there.  The are deemed “trustees” because they are short on the time to finish their sentences and the fact they had to earn the right to live there.  This prison is a minimum-security prison without the guard towers and razor wire that exist just a few blocks away at the main unit. 

 

After this, I will return to the main unit at 6 p.m., for my last service.  There will be approximately 200 to 300 men in attendance in the main unit for both of those services, and around 70 men who will come to the trustee camp church service. 

 

This is a great opportunity for the Lord to win many to Christ and for me to be able to pray for as many who want prayer.  “What a great day it will be this weekend when men will go from darkness to His marvelous Light in a born-again moment.”  Please pray for this outreach as I know you do, and I am always thankful to know there are many of our partners interceding for this soul winning effort. 

Another reminder for you to pray about is the upcoming December 7th meeting at Ferguson.  I will be prayerfully giving out soap and Christmas cards to all 2,300 men who live there.  Your continued support to help me fulfill ordering these two items in bulk is always appreciated.  I am going to order them by the end of September to allow plenty of time for the soap and Christmas cards to arrive. 

 

Bless you for all you do.   

 

Sincerely, Joe Wilkins 

https://www.anewthingsee.com/

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

In Snow White, when the Queen spoke those words about “who’s the fairest of them all,” I do not think she was really asking a question.  Did she really want to know the truth, or did she want the mirror to tell her what she wanted to hear? 

 

It is like the people in this world trying to find out who they are and why they were born. 

Mirrors are interesting things.  They serve one purpose.  They reflect back what is put in front of them.  It seems that they simply tell us the unfiltered truth.  However, when we look into a mirror a strange process takes place. 

 

The image that we see before us is both accurate and distorted.  It is accurate because the mirror shows us what we actually look like at any given moment.  With women, before and after makeup tells the truth of their beauty.  At least the outward beauty. 

 

The mirror does not have any Photoshop filters to take away our blemishes or make us look younger than we are.  Mirrors are painfully accurate.  “Don’t stare too long and frighten yourself.” 

 

The backwards image we see reminds us that there are two ways that we can see ourselves, and these two ways are in constant battle. 

The first way is the raw truth about who we really are.  Especially when no one is around for us to pretend in front of. 

The second way is the distorted image that we believe about ourselves.  Every natural blemish can be a reminder of a hurt we suffered at the hands of someone who said they loved us. 

 

2nd Samuel 12: 1-4, “Then the Lord sent Nathan to David.  And he came to him and said to him: ‘There were two men in one city, one rich and the other poor.  The rich man had exceedingly many flocks and herds.  But the poor man had nothing, except one little ewe lamb which he had bought and nourished; and it grew up together with him and with his children.  It ate of his own food and drank from his own cup and lay in his bosom; and it was like a daughter to him.  And a traveler came to the rich man, who refused to take from his own flock and from his own herd to prepare one for the wayfaring man who had come to him; but he took the poor man’s lamb and prepared it for the man who had come to him.” 

This story goes on to prove David’s anger and his final realization that he had sinned, so he spoke back to Nathan.  “I have sinned against the Lord.”  

 

 David had issues resulting in chaos and turmoil.   

And Nathan said to David, “The Lord has put away your sin; you shall not die.”  

 

David figured out quickly that the sword of his behavior would never depart his house.  He knew that the death of the child born to David, from Uriah’s wife would never live.  When that news came to him from whispering servants that the child had died, (vs 19) David knew his fasting and prayers for the child to live were in vain.  He went on to eat the food set before him, rather than weeping and repenting. 

 

It is like looking into that distorted mirror for our own selves.  We see that we are a sinner.  We know that our lifestyle without Christ in it, is causing things around us to die.  Our “sword” will not depart either, until we have a different look into the mirror God has in store for us to look into.  It will reveal our walk with Him, or our stumbling around the Cross as if to run and try to hide from the truth of God’s love for us.   

 

We can run, but we can’t hide forever.  We are either looking into a distorted view of our life, or we see Jesus in our eyes staring back at us.  Mirror, mirror on the wall.  “Who is the sinner amongst us all?”  It was David.  And us too, until we repent and ask Jesus to save our souls. 

 

Even after David lay with Bathsheba in adultery, and bore the first child who died, David was legitimately married to Bathsheba later, and she bore a son Solomon in Jerusalem. 

What a heavy price to pay for lust and murder.  David eventually cried out to God: 

“Behold, You desire truth in the inward parts, and in the hidden part You will make me to know wisdom.  Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.  Make me hear joy and gladness, that the bones You have broken may rejoice.  Hide Your face from my sins and blot out all my iniquities.  Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.  Do not cast me away from Your presence, and do not take Your Holy Spirit from me.  Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and uphold me by Your generous Spirit.”  Psalms 51: 6-12. 

 

Repentance by David.   

It is the mirror, mirror on the wall of our hearts that we must look deeply into.  It is better to look sooner, rather than later.  Otherwise, we grow old and try to “wish upon a star.” 

 

The Bible says that David was a man after God’s own heart, and God made him a promise that his house would be great.  David seemed to be the perfect balance between a humble man who trusted and served God and a King.  And then it happened. 

 

David gave into the greatest temptation.  He believed that his power and authority was his and gave him special privileges.  He believed he had the right to stay home from the battlefield and let others do his fighting.  When he saw a beautiful woman named Bathsheba, he believed he had the power to take her.  It did not matter to David that she was married. 

David abused his power all in the name of the Lord and placed his own desires, power, and privilege as his god. 

 

I did the same thing to a degree in the early 1970’s. 

I remember the day I had to finally look into a real mirror. 

It was March 12, 1974, my 18th birthday.  I was to see my Daddy this day to pay back ten cents I had borrowed from him when I was very young.  I had purposed to be sober this day.  I went to his apartment to do the right thing for a change. 

I was a full-blown drug addict with a $200.00 a day Meth habit, along with the alcohol, Marijuana and L.S.D. that I ingested too. 

I was an out of control 18-year-old boy trying to be a man.  Not a man after God’s own heart.  I had the heart of Satan, and several demons lived inside my soul and manifested in various ways.  Armed robberies.  Assaults, and finally two attempted murders to name a few.  Burglary, carrying illegal weapons, and breaking in and entering residences.  This all included stealing out of cars that were parked in the parking lots of high-end restaurants. 

This birthday was to be special for me and for my Daddy. 

 

I ruined this day.  I broke my Daddy’s heart and drove away from his apartment. 

Before I burned rubber out of the parking lot, I got a glimpse of myself in the rear-view mirror.  I was looking into this mirror, not at myself at first, but at my Daddy standing in the parking lot screaming at me, “Come back son, I am sorry, come back Joe!” 

 

I never went back to my Daddy and his tear-filled eyes. 

 

I stopped at the stop sign to turn left.  I looked into the same rear-view mirror and realized, for a moment, what I had turned into. 

An insane, drug addict who just broke his father’s heart. 

 

Regrets?  Too many to remember. 

I was looking into a mirror which reflected backwards into my blood-shot eyes. 

I saw nothing good.  I saw an inane, inept, high school dropout.  I dropped out and dove into drugs and the lifestyle of the 1970’s counterculture. 

Daily living was a joke.  I was not living.  I was dying a slow death and headed to hell. 

My mirror was cracked with a history of abuse in my childhood.  There were spider-web style cracks all over the mirror of my heart.  Broken, shattered shards of neglect and conflict within our home.  It is no wonder that I ended up in prison.  I was destined for this life behind bars because my self-esteem was nonexistent.  I did what was expected of me.  Go to school.  I quit in my sophomore year, one year after my mother died from cancer. 

I basically quit life, yet Jesus never quit on me. 

 

There are four mirrors in life we must look at. 

Number One:  The mirror of the world. 

The mirror of the world gives us a blurry reflection.  Secular culture sets a standard of what is valued in women, and in men.  Exterior beauty in women, and muscular torsos in men are the gold standard of worth.  We see this in commercials, on the big screen, in photos and pictures on Instagram, in advertisements, and even in music.  These images send constant messages of “what is beautiful.” 

Today, social media, (nonexistent in the 1970’s) and the images of so-called successful people, tell us how to dress, act and think and live.  The gold standard is tarnished in my opinion.  God looks at the heart, not the outward man or woman. 

If we continue to stare at ourselves through the lenses of social media and how many “followers” we have, then we are doomed to have a cracked mirror.  It will crumble down, just like the glass house I lived in as a child. 

 

Secondly:  The mirror of our relationships: 

The mirrors of our relationships are not just reflective of the women we are today or the macho men who are trying to look and act a certain way.  It reflects more than image.  Our relationships are cluttered with images of who we were in the past, who we are today, and who we hope to be in the future.   

 

This includes our childhoods, youth, and any traumas we may have experienced.  I call it spiritual baggage.  Advise: talk about all your hidden baggage prior to marriage so your spouse will understand your quirks and have a Godly perspective about your need for healing from Jesus Christ.   

 

Our relationships reflect our dreams and our hopes for a better future.  Painful and positive experiences shape us daily.  Emotions are what make us human.  Not robotic or artificial. 

God gives us emotions and feelings as a guidance system for us to navigate our actions, and therefore our lives. 

Choose wisely who you plan to live with in marriage for the long haul.  They may snore so buy plenty of ear plugs or box fans to drown out the noise. 

 

Thirdly: Mirror of Religion: 

The mirror of religion reflects a shattered kaleidoscope of images back at us.  Institutional religion is the cause of pain all over the world.  The perversion of religion and the inhuman treatment of people in the “name of religion” is unspeakable.  People say, “Why don’t I go to church?”  Because I went once and did not fit into the rules and the categories, they tried to put me in.  Not to mention the Gospel preached was not the Gospel of Jesus in the way He wanted it proclaimed. 

Christians are the only army in the world that shoot their own wounded.  Fact. 

 

Lastly: Mirror of God’s Word: 

The mirror of the Word of God is clear and perfected.   

“If someone listens to God’s Word but does not do what it says, he is like a person who looks at his face in a mirror, studies his features, goes away, and immediately forgets what he looks like.  However, the person who continues to study God’s perfect teachings that make people free and who remains committed to them, will be blessed.  People like that don't merely listen and forget; they actually do what Gods' teachings say.  If a person thinks that he is religious but can’t control his tongue; he is fooling himself.  That person’s religion is worthless.” James 1: 22-27. 

 

When we look into this mirror, we learn to lead with our ears, then with our mouths.  Our actions will follow our words. 

 

God’s mirror always reveals our flaws.  We see where we need to repent.  We always see in this mirror, our Savior Jesus who died for us personally.  We see that by believing in Him.  We can be changed forever.   

 

God’s mirror is the only mirror that can create true beauty. 

No makeup needed in His mirror. 

 

“Just as water mirrors your face, so your face mirrors your heart.”  Proverbs 27:19. 

“OH, mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” 

 

Jesus is the fairest One of all.  

 He is the perfect ONE.  Fair and equal in justice too.  His perfection through the power of the Holy Ghost, will look deeply into our hearts and He will fill us with His love and His purity.  His wholeness becomes our wholeness.  And His acceptance of us, just the way we are, requires no mirror at all. 

 

“Good luck next time Snow White.”  Jesus is not a fairytale.  Thank God for that. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Forgive, Forget and Let Go

“HE is more than enough”

 

The title of this is a mouthful and very challenging if we try and do things the Bible way.  As human beings, the difficulty is in our memory. 

How do we truly release past hurts by choosing forgiveness?    

First, we must be forgiven my Jesus through repentance and believing on His Name.   

Releasing is a process of elimination.  This does not mean erasing our memories but rather releasing bitterness and letting God handle justice.  We must eliminate the roadblocks to our healing. 

Biblical principles show God’s complete forgiveness for us, and His Word will encourage processing our pain, trusting God to heal, and not allowing resentment to control our lives.  If not handled properly, we will have stunted, spiritual growth.  In fact, we will stop growing and wither on the vine.  That withering will lead to death in our spirit and will cause physical and emotional disease to creep in many times. 

Jeremiah 31: 34 declares, “No more shall every man teach his neighbor, and every man his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they all shall know Me, from the least of them to the greatest of them, says the Lord.  For I will forgive their iniquity, and their sin I will remember no more.” 

Let us unpack this scripture.   

This scripture is directed regarding the prophesy about a new covenant that God will make with Israel.  This new covenant is characterized by God writing His laws on the heart of His people, resulting in an internal desire to obey.  God promises a personal relationship where everyone will know Him, their iniquity will be forgiven, and their sins will be remembered no more. 

It is important not to isolate this text from its context.  The new covenant is to be accompanied by a repopulation of the land and a rebuilding of Jerusalem.  This promise is given to a dispirited people in exile.  Unless the new covenant is God’s promise for this specific group of people, it then, is a promise for no one else. 

Israel must repent. 

What does this have to do with forgiveness and forgetting and letting go? 

Forgiveness allows for a personal freedom from the past, a necessary act for spiritual well-being, and a reflection of God’s grace, rather than a sign of weakness or reconciliation. 

Paul spoke to this in Philippians 3:13-14, “Brethren, I do not count myself to have apprehended; but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” 

Paul had many things to let go of regarding his past trials, yet he had perspective of the big picture.  The Cross. 

Past, present and our future.   

Every one of us has all three.   

These questions will remain for all of mankind.  “Are we letting past hurts, and disappointments and pains rule our current life?  Are we bound and under spiritual attack, and do not know that we are?  Is letting God have our pain difficult because we really do not believe He can set us free?  Is our faith in Him based on trust, or hoping for the best outcome?  Is my fear of the unknown keeping me from living in peace?” 

None of those questions are easy to answer. 

Forgiveness is for you, not them: 

Forgiving someone is the only way to set yourself free from the burden of resentment and bitterness.  Notice something.  “Set yourself free.”  It is up to you as much as it is to God to make the decision to be bitter or better.  Once you determine to let go, then God can intervene and help you with His mercy, grace and power to overcome your past. 

Forget isn’t about memory: 

It’s about not letting the past control your present actions or feelings, rather than a complete erasure of the memory.  God “forgets” our sins by not holding them against us, a concept we are called to emulate.  We think we have no power to forgive and forget, yet we have the Holy Spirit living inside us to accomplish His will and in His way.  Our power to forgive is not the same as Jesus forgiving us by dying.  We do not have that resurrection power, but we do have the power of being led by the Spirit of God to let go, once and for all, the things that are currently hindering our growth in Him. 

Letting go frees you: 

Holding onto hurts weighs you and I down and prevents us from living a full life in Christ.  Releasing the pain allows for healing and future growth.  Memories are exactly that.  Memories.  We all have them.   

The key for me was to recognize how my memory attentions and thoughts were coming and then to recognize that memory for what it was.  Number one: I choose not to live in that memory if it was a bad one, only if I let myself dwell on it.   

At some point we must “cast down the images or imaginations that try to exalt themselves above the knowledge of God, bringing every thought (memories too) into captivity to the obedience of Christ, and being ready to punish all disobedience when your obedience is fulfilled.”  2nd Corinthians 10:5. 

Imagine with me for a moment a certain trigger or memory arrives in our mind, and it was because of a certain smell or scene we watched in real life, or even something on television that reminds us of a memory from the past.  Even as far back as childhood.  Visiting the old neighborhood where we lived as a child.  Memories.  Going to the cemetery to lay flowers on the grave of a loved one.  Memories. 

It is at that very moment it happens that we should cast it down in prayer and release ourselves from that attack, especially if it is a memory of pain and hurt. 

It is our responsibility, not God’s, to cast it down.  It is part of life, and life is not fair at times for sure.  No one, especially me, is saying, “Oh, just get over it.”  I am simply saying that we must use the Word of God for what it is.  An instruction manual on how to live this Christian life.  No matter what, we either grow, or we wither. 

Keeping in mind some of us fight sickness and disease and some do not.  Some live long, productive lives, and some die early.  Earlier than we expected.  (Noting the fact my mother died when I was 15 and my daddy was murdered when I was 18.)  Bad memories. 

God has a way of intervening when we do not have the strength to overcome on our own.   

I lived this supernatural strength from the Most High many years ago. 

Nightmares of my past, especially the prison life I lived in 1976 haunted me for years after prison.  There would be times I would dream at night so vividly that it seemed it was happening all over again.  Suddenly waking in a cold sweat and screaming out loud.   

“But it is your past?”  Well, I did not know then how to pray and use God’s Word to my benefit and for my deliverance. 

All the way from 1976 through 1992, I had nightmares at least two times a week.  Consistently. 

I would pray, seek help at times, and read the Bible to no avail. 

I lived with a certain family for a short season, and the first several nights, I had a bed on the couch in the living room.  But I was reliving the nightmares of my childhood traumas and prison to the point that I would wake up and find myself in the entry way of the front door into the living room.  Not on the couch that I fell asleep on.  It was totally demonic.  It was like sleepwalking to the front door wanting to escape so badly that I was trying to leave the very solitude given to me. 

As time went on, I graduated to the couch, and then into my own bedroom.  I did not spend time in a prayer line at a church.  I did not anoint myself with oil.  All I did was pray and pray some more.  Eventually, the nightmares left and never returned. 

The only time I have a dream of prison now is when I am preaching in prison the Gospel of Jesus.  That dream is a reality that I have been doing for almost 40 years.  Not dreaming it.  Living it.  I am living the dream.   

HIS dream. 

Not the American dream.  I am living proof of God transforming a life that once was lost.  I give Him all the Glory for using a former wretch like me. 

I have not had a real nightmare from my past in over 35 years.  Not even once. 

The Lord Jesus has set me free, and I did not know exactly when He did it.  It is His mercy and grace. 

I see true forgiveness as a conscious choice to stop suffering from another’s actions, not a command to erase the memory of the offense. 

Bitterness destroys: 

Unresolved anger and bitterness can destroy the person holding onto it, affecting their thoughts, and how they process the thoughts.  Their feelings get damaged in their emotional state which they become no longer able to view the world around them in any positive light. 

We choose what we lose.  It is a conscious and deliberate action on our part to say, “I am done with living this way, and I will not let my past and the memories it holds, rule and reign in my heart and mind any longer.” 

Only prayer and a direct touch from the Holy Spirit can provide the power needed for you or me to truly “overcome by the Blood of the Lamb (Jesus) and then have the word of our testimony” prevail over our pasts.   

Sometimes we get so exhausted re-living the past that even a good night’s sleep will not stop the torment.  We do have an enemy of our souls who would love nothing better than to steal, kill and destroy what is left of our lives. 

We can get better, once bitterness leaves our soul. 

Acknowledge and process the pain: 

Only allow yourself to feel the emotions related to your past hurts in the presence of God.  Worship and pray and speak His Word over your life, and during this, remind yourself of those hurts that have hindered you, and at the same moment, cast them all under your feet where they belong.  Pulverized.  All of this takes time, and the resolve and resolute evidence will come as the “joy of the Lord Jesus.”  You will experience your freedom in the way the Lord Jesus has planned for you.  He is not a cookie-cutter God. 

It is not God’s intention for His children to live on a rollercoaster of emotions daily. 

Trials come and trials go.  The question will remain steadfast in our souls.  “Am I free, or am I seeking freedom?”  Both are good. 

It is when we stop believing for freedom, is when we die in our spirit. 

Trusting God’s justice for your life is paramount to the freedom journey we are all on.  Justice may not seem attainable until we are in Heaven.  It makes no sense that some wicked people seem to prosper and be happy while some Christians are miserable and broke. 

 

I have been in many trials.  The Gospel of Jesus Christ is not just about justice.  It is about forgiveness in the justice process.  Like court.  Guilty or not guilty.  Freedom or incarceration.  The results of the trial are mostly found within the evidence presented to the judge. 

I only trust the process if it is laced with God’s will for my life.  He is not a Savior waiting to hit you and me with His rod of correction.  “Thy rod and Thy staff comforts” me, the 23rd Psalm alludes to. 

Ask yourself a question after reading this.   

“If I, as a believer in Jesus and have been born again according to John 3: 3; live a miserable broken-hearted Christian life, then how can I have my brokenness healed?  What do I do?  How do I do it?  Who can I trust to get me through this hurricane-style storm of pain and hurt that haunts me daily?” 

I do not have all the answers why good people suffer.  I know this world is going from order to disorder rapidly.  It is part of God’s redemption plan through Christ. 

I do know this.  Jesus Christ loves all of us the same.  He does not show partiality in His love and grace.  He wants the best for us while we are on this earth.  He simply calls us to be His servant. 

However, like Paul, I have learned to be contented with little, and with much. 

Contentment begins in the heart.  Peace flourishes within the trials when we know WHO is in the boat with us as the raging storms of life hit us unexpectedly. 

Jesus forgives.  Jesus Saves.  Jesus holds not even one drop of His shed Blood to Himself.  He gave it all.  All to Him I owe.  My sin has left a crimson stain; He washes it white as snow. 

Forgive, forget and let go?  Easier said than done.  We all must start somewhere. 

I love the old saying, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing, over and over, expecting different results.” 

Nothing wrong with our routine in serving the Master Jesus.  Spiritually keep doing what works and leads you to the freedom He offers all of us. 

If we are forgiven by Him, then we can forget our pasts.  We can forgive those who have played a part in our misery.  Letting go takes time. 

None of us are whole yet.  We won’t be completely whole until we are with Him. 

The journey is hard.  The roads are rocky at times.  The outcomes do not always play out the way we want.  We must pray.  If we stop praying, then we will not forgive, forget or let go.  Ever.  Never. 

If prayer does not work, then why do we keep praying?  Well, prayer does work in God’s timing, not ours.  I keep praying for freedom for those who may read this.  He waits for you to pray.  He has a pardon for you from your pain. 

He is the ultimate vindicator. 

“He is the Lord and God has highly exalted Him and has given Him the name that is above every name, and every knee should bow, of those in Heaven, and of those on earth, and of those under the earth, and that every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the Glory of God the Father.”  Philippians 2: 9-11. 

Your freedom lies at the foot of the Cross.  Wait no longer in your pain.  Confess Him as Lord.  Ask for forgiveness, even while you are in pain.  He will heal you.  He will forgive you.  It is His nature.  It is what He does.  He does it best. 

I can’t and would not try and live anyone’s life.  He chose me to bear fruit.  Fruit that remains.  I do not make light of your current storm and your on-going pain.  Keep fighting the good fight of faith and lay hold of eternal life which is yours in Christ Jesus. 

If there were easy answers to life and all the calamity it offers, then we would all get on board that ship. 

All I know is what I have lived thus far. 

I have fought the good fight of faith.  I have overcome much.  Not all, but many things. 

I did not do any of it on my own.  Jesus Christ was with me guiding me even when I did not feel His presence. 

Deuteronomy 31: 6 declares, “Be strong (in HIM) and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them (anything) for the Lord your God goes with you, and He will never leave you or forsake (abandon) you.” 

I believe this, and I hold this scripture in my heart for myself, and for you. 

Winners never quit, and quitters never win. 

I choose to rely on Jesus, whether I win or not.  Life is not a game we play.  Life is a journey to His nail-pierced hands. 

Be strong.  Stay strong in Him.  He is enough.  He is more than enough. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Love is More than “A Many Splendored Thing”

The Greeks had several words for “love.”  Agape loves as is. 

The best that we can give.  Conclusion: Instead of suggesting that you go out and love, I would suggest that you just get filled with God and His perfect love for you and mankind. 

For a word that we all use so often, love is a very difficult word for us to define.  I looked up love in the dictionary and found that it is both a noun and a verb.  It has eleven different definitions.  Love has to do with God. 

It has to do with sex.  It has to do with romance.  It even has to do with tennis, of all things. 

I tried to picture a young couple, dating, attracted to each other.  He schedules a romantic evening.  They go to a restaurant that’s far too expensive for his budget.  Keeping in mind he is 24 years young. 

Afterwards they go out on a warm, moonlit night, and sit on a park bench overlooking the lake.  He holds her hand and realizes that tens of millions of times, men have said to women “I love you.” 

And somehow, he is fearful that she would not get all that was meant and the full definition of what he said. 

And so, he looks into her eyes, and having checked it out in the dictionary, he says, “I have tender and passionate affections for you as a member of the opposite sex.” 

That does not capture all that love is about, and it breaks the romance of the moment. 

In English we have only one word for love.  I think that this is unfortunate.  The ancient Hebrews had the same dilemma.  “Ahab” was the ancient Hebrew word, and all different shades of love had to be captured in that single term. 

The Greeks had far more.  Storge was probably one of the most frequent uses of love that the Greeks had in their language.  It referred to the love between a parent and a child, especially between a mother and a child. 

“But what does the Bible say about love?” 

Agape, a selfless, unconditional love that prioritizes the well-being of others. 

It is not primarily a feeling, but a decision to act in the best interest of others, even when it’s difficult or unappealing.  This love is exemplified by God’s love for humanity, demonstrated through the sacrifice of Jesus dying on the Cross of Calvary. 

I never knew about love as a child.  Growing up in a family where love was displayed by giving us toys, or a pet, or simply letting us play outside in the rain. 

A pet or toy never works if that is the only way love in a home is rendered. 

Jesus was not part of my childhood, and I found true love later in life while in prison.  As a matter of fact, I wrote the following poem while incarcerated in 1976. 

 

“True Love”

 

As I grew up, I needed to be loved.  I had to beg, at times, while thinking of.  The love –substitutes that were given to me; like a shepherd dog and parakeet. 

All I really wanted, though, were four words from my parents like, “I love you, Joe.”  And during all that time, I waited patiently, but it never came true for me. 

Those bedtime stories were never told.  And, before I knew it, I was getting old.  My heart grew harder as I waited there.  Waiting for my parents to truly care. 

To say “I love you” without the love, is a gesture of selfishness; they must be dreaming of.  To show your love, with a pet or toy, is a counterfeit way of expressing joy. 

All I wanted in my childhood prime was for them to try and spend some time.  They say “love” is spelled: T.I.M.E.  Is that so hard for them to see?   

Where were their hugs and kisses sweet?  “Why can’t I hear my parakeet?”  These substitutes for the love I crave are hidden away, in a makeshift grave. 

All I wanted is gone, for now.  I’ll look for love again somehow.  I can’t find my shepherd dog today.  He too has left and run away. 

 

See, time passed slowly while I was in this maximum-security prison in Texas at age 20.  I could almost hear the clock on the wall that never existed in there.  No calendars.  No wrist watches allowed.  Time.  Tick tock, the pendulum swings. 

Once I got saved in prison in 1977, and the Lord began this “love” relationship with me, everything changed. 

1st Corinthians 13: 4-8, describes the truth about love, and as Christians, we try and measure up to this lifelong struggle to accomplish every word in the following scripture. 

 

“Love is patient and kind.  Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude.  It does not demand its own way.  It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.  It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out.  Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.”  New Living Translation. 

 

That is a bunch to live up to and I do not believe any human being ever master's all of that.  We strive to be like Jesus and try and let love rule in our mortal bodies. 

This agape love was not used very often in the Greek language and was especially infrequent in Greek literature that we can read from those ancient times.  It was the Greek word agape, and it was in many ways quite different from the other terms for love that the Greeks used.  It was not really centered in the relationship to the other person or in the attractiveness of the other person; but was more centered on the person who does the loving. 

Every single person, (not single as in not married) wants to be loved in this life. 

Some of us just want to be held.  Others will be glad to have a handshake or a pat on the back.  Others of us want to be important to someone.  Anyone. 

We want love to matter whether we come in late or don’t come home at all at night.  We want to have someone who will stand up for us and believe in us.  The problem with all of these things is that so much is dependent upon our desirability. 

If we look good, we are attractive in the sensuous ways to the opposite sex. 

If we believe we are to behave as we are supposed to behave, then maybe we’ll have friends who will like us and will hang out with us.  If we meet our parents’ expectations, or at least what we think to be our parents’ expectations, then maybe they’ll approve, then maybe they will love us and show us some sort of affections. 

 

Dogs, birds, toys and tucking yourself into bed by yourself is insanity.  That was my childhood in a nutshell within a nuthouse in my emotions.  I was in an insane asylum in my heart, looking for a way out of the “cuckoo’s nest.”  Someone has to fly over.  Hopefully. 

I would have loved to be the one who flew out of the coop.  I did eventually when Mom and Daddy died.  I was truly looking for love in all the wrong places. 

 

Like Johnny Lee’s song, “Lookin’ for Love,” the lyrics rang out to my heart. 

“I was lookin’ for love in all the wrong places, Lookin’ for love in too many faces, searching their eyes for traces of what I’m dreaming of. 

Hoping to find a friend and a lover, I’ll bless the day I discover another heart lookin’ for love.  And I was alone then, no love in sight, and I did everything I could to get me through the night.” 

 

This song reflected the life I lived after prison.  Yes, I was born again and loved Jesus with all my heart.  I was so immature as a young believer, that I had the wrong definition of love in my mind at that time.  I became like that song by Johnny Lee.  I was looking for love in all the wrong places.  Honky Tonks are not going to produce a Christian bride.  “Ya, think?” 

Example number one: I had a horrible childhood and the representation of love in the Wilkins home was non-existent.  No Jesus, No peace.  Know Jesus, know peace.  Classic Christian bumper sticker in the 1990’s.  The love of God was not in my childhood home. 

So, after prison at age 21, my mind and heart were open to the point that I my brains fell out and my heart got crushed in less than ten months outside of the prison walls I had been behind. 

I thought that if I had the American Dream of the white picket fence around my first home, and a bride to fill it, then all would be well with my soul.  Wrong. 

Divorce number one loomed as I got married on February 23, 1978, and was divorced on February 14, 1979.  I wore a suit to my wedding in the church with a red rose on my lapel. 

The day of the divorce, I was alone in the courtroom, the future ex-wife was not present.  I wore the same suit with the dried flower still attached to the lapel from the day I was married.  I figured this, “If this suit was good enough for my wedding, then it is certainly good enough for my divorce.”  Great day for a divorce.  Valentines Day.  Hence the suit wearing and flower fading.  I was fading too in my walk with Jesus.  My love for Him was put on the back burner of my heart for a long time. 

Example number two: In a full-blown backslidden life, I ended up in Los Angeles in 1980 and dated my first cousin’s ex-wife.  “What kind of an idiot does that?”  You're reading about him.  Me. 

That lasted about ten months, and I realized that I was not fit for this kind of relationship after her former husband, my cousin, beat me to a pulp during a party that my other cousin threw up in Burbank.  The classic L.A. party, equipped with booze and mirrors with white powder. 

“You catch my snow drift yet?” 

I left Los Angeles after breaking her heart and found myself in Lacy, Washington in September of 1980, just a few months after Mt. St. Helens blew her top. 

Ash from the volcano was still there, and I had to navigate my life while living with my sister and her ARMY RANGER husband for a season. 

The backsliding away from my Savior Jesus was subtle at first, but the fullness of it was about to happen to me.  I was reaping what I had sowed. 

I met a guy at work, and he and I were stupid.  I should have tattooed a big red “S” on my chest representing my decision making then that had to do with looking for love.  Not Superman, but Super Stupid Joe. 

After work on Monday, I would go to the bars with my friend.  No big deal.  Just a few beers. 

Well, that turned into Tuesday nights, “Ladies Night.”  Wednesday night was two-for-one drinks, for two hours.  Thursday nights were dance until you drop night and pick up whosoever would let you go home with her.  Friday was the night I looked forward to the weekend.  Seven days a week, living like the world and hiding behind a facade of Christianity.  I was a counterfeit Christian at this point.  I was full of dead men's bones and all kinds of lawlessness.  It was a miracle I did not end up with a dozen “driving while stupid and drunk” tickets and jail again. 

Long story shorter, I stole my sister’s credit cards and jewelry and split for Idaho. 

In 1982 I married a lady with two young children, and for the next 7 years, I suffered and was tormented by the decision to get married.  Divorce number two loomed. 

Divorced in 1990.  I stopped looking for love. 

This agape love I spoke about is the only love that loves us “as is.”  It is a wonder that Jesus would take me back into His loving arms after all that insanity and addictive behavior I displayed.  Yet His loved prevailed. 

At this point I was not patient or kind.  I was jealous and boastful at the same time.  I was proud as a peacock and rude with my feathers ruffled all the time. 

I demanded my own way.  I stayed irritable and I blamed everyone around me for my stupidity.  I kept records of all the hurts people did to me, going all the way back to my childhood offenses.  I rejoiced in other’s misfortunes.  I gave up on love.  I lost my faith and was never hopeful again.  I did not endure my self-inflicted hardships very well.  I was the exact opposite of 1st Corinthians 13.  The LOVE scriptures. 

I hated myself. 

I have shared all of my personal pains from my past for a reason.  Not because I am not healed or forgiven.  I am.  I know how easily falling away from our Savior and Lord is.  It does not happen overnight.  It does not come as lightning and thunder.  It comes like a dew drop, falling on to the heart of a man or woman.  It is just a little drop of sin.  A bit of leaven.  A thought that creeps in, and then that thought grows into an act.  Then that act becomes a bit of a habit turning into a lifestyle.  That lifestyle grows and the longer we wait to repent and get our heart right with Jesus, the lifestyle of looking for love in all the wrong places become a destiny we never thought we would live out. 

Jesus warns us many times to live clean in an unclean world.  He not only warns us but gives us a way of escape when we are about to fall into a deep pit of sin.  Sin always takes us farther than we want to go and keeps us longer than we want to stay; and permanently costs us much more than we can afford to pay.  We must pay up.  It is a matter of life and death. 

The only way to dissolve the permanent stain of this sin-lifestyle is to get on our knees and cry out to Jesus. 

There is no “splendor in sin.”  If love is a many splendored thing, then it is critical to know this AGAPE love first. 

Selfless and unconditional love comes from the Cross of Calvary.  Jesus died so that we could never again start the cycle of madness called, “looking for love.” 

Look no further.  Seek no more.  Run, but do not grow weary in your quest for the truth.  He is the Way, the Truth and the Life.  Run to Jesus.  When He sees you sprinting towards Him, He always stops and turns around.  He opens his arms, complete with the nail-scarred hands.  He will embrace you.  He will keep you.  He will love you with all the Agape love you need. 

The splendor of His love.   

“The splendor of a King, clothed in Majesty.  He wraps Himself in Light, and darkness tries to hide, and trembles at His Voice, trembles at His Voice.  Age to age He stands, and time is in His hands, beginning and the end; Beginning and the end.  How great is our God?” 

I would say He is the Greatest. 

Love is a many splendored thing actually.  It is much more.  It is available to you and me.  His name if Jesus. 

I hope you have learned more in this story about “what NOT to do, rather than TO do.” 

Pretty simple.  Don’t do what I did.  Look for love in all the RIGHT places.  There is only one place to find true love.  It is not in a gift or even the amount of time you spend with those you say you love. 

 

In some small way I can hear a dog barking and a parakeet tweeting.  Just remembering what I did not have, to appreciate all I do have now.  His Name is Jesus.  I found what I have always been looking for.  The correct love relationship. 

For you?  Keep searching.  You will find Him. 

“And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.”  Jeremiah 29:13. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Restoration Prison Ministry Newsletter, August-2025

Good day to all the partners.                                                                                                

The Oregon trip was another successful endeavor as the Lord Jesus moved upon people, both in a prison and the church services we did. 

My son went with me and did the worship in the two church services.  One on Wednesday evening, and then the other on the following Sunday morning. 

It was a powerful time of worship and singing and prayer as many came to the altar and were saved and ministered too, one on one.  I never stop until the very last soul is prayed for. 

 

On Friday the 8th of August, I traveled to Salem, Oregon to preach at the Oregon State Correctional Institution where there were around 77 men in attendance. 

Many of these men I have known for over 30 years of ministry to this prison, and several are part of the prison worship team. 

One was asking for prayer back in May when I was there for his shoulder that had an apparent rotator cuff tear in it.  Well, after the service on this Friday, he came to me and raised his left arm for the first time since his injury and we both hugged and gave Jesus the Glory for His Divine touch.  This man, I have known for over 30 years as he has a life sentence.  He is the leader of the worship team and has been the whole time I have known him. 

 

All 77 men came forward for prayer with several giving their hearts to Jesus.  As I looked out past the rows of men standing before me, I saw all the chairs empty, as the Lord wanted everyone to be a part of His Healing Mercy at the altar.  Even the two different men in wheelchairs were there to be prayed for. 

 

In the first church service in Vancouver, Washington, several people came to the altar for salvation and healing.  One was a young man who I prayed for and watched him as he cried out to Jesus for mercy in his personal repentance.  The message I preached was called “Unpacking Emotional Baggage” with a subtitle of “Grateful for My Regrets.” 

Apparently, like most of us, he unloaded the baggage of his life this evening and was beginning to be grateful for his Salvation in Christ.  The message was not about living “in” our regrets, but after Salvation, learning to be grateful “for” the regrets that led us to repentance. 

 

Sunday morning’s message was called “The Old Man and the Sea” taken after Ernest Hemingway’s book with the same title.  It was not about fishing but was about the “Old Man” prior to Jesus changing us.  

Letting go of the old man and being renewed in our spirit as Jesus saves our souls. 

 

I spoke about the resilience and fortitude the old man in the book had regarding his fight to catch the great Marlin fish.  He fought for three days to land this great fish, but sharks had devoured it before he could get it back to dry land. 

 

Like in many lives, we fight the good fight of faith in Jesus, but life and the trials it brings, can devour our faith like the sharks did to the Marlin. 

 

Just as the old man did not quit fighting for the great catch, we must never quit serving Jesus, no matter the storms of life that come. 

Many came to the altar and again, my son and I prayed for them all. 

September 7th this year, my son and his friend will accompany me to the Ferguson Prison for three services.  We expect a great harvest of souls to come in this outreach. 

As this September approaches, I am asking for prayer now for the December 7th outreach to Ferguson because we want to bless all 2,300 men there with soap and Christmas cards prior to our December date. 

It is a tradition to bring these presents as we preach another three services to win the lost to Christ. 

My son and I are grateful for all you do to support and pray for us as we go and preach Jesus to the lost and undone in prison. 

Beginning this Tuesday August 19th, I will return to the Torres Unit Prison in Hondo, Texas for my weekly class.  I have been gone to Oregon the last two Tuesdays, so it will be refreshing to get back to the men and see what the Lord will do. 

As always, thank you for all you do to further the Kingdom of God. 

Sincerely,

Joe Wilkins and Son. 

 https://www.anewthingsee.com/

The Value of Showing Up

In this world we live in, the word value can mean many different things depending on the situation.  Worth, importance or usefulness of something are just some definitions.  It can describe the monetary worth of an object, the quality of being desirable, or even the social principles a person or group holds. 

 

Monetary worth is the most common interpretation placing the amount of money something is worth or can be exchanged for.  Examples include the price of a product, the value of a house, or the market price of a company. 

 

Importance, on the other hand, refers to the degree to which something is considered desirable, useful, or important.  Examples include the true worth of an education, the worth of friendships or the integrity of a good work ethic. 

 

I want to describe something that is worth much more than money can buy, or even placing a value on a situation or experience. 

 

It is simply called “showing up.” 

 

Being there for someone who is sick.  Spending time with those who feel unlovable.  There are many simplistic examples in the scriptures which Jesus Himself spoke about regarding the “Value of Showing Up.” 

 

“Then the King will say to those on His right hand, Come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in; I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me.” 

 

I was naked and you clothed me. 

 

Many years ago, while living in Warrenton, Oregon, along the beach, I was a manager for a foster care home for the elderly. 

My job entailed cooking, cleaning, caring for all the needs of those who lived there.  Even if they were unable to care for themselves in some ways; I was there to meet their needs. 

 

5 elderly men in various stages of needs, were a daily, and sometimes nightly job requirement.  In reality, I was there 24 hours a day, and needed to be alert and available if any of them had a “two o'clock in the morning” bathroom need.  I had a relief worker come in two days a week to relieve me and provide the same quality care. 

 

So, like clockwork at exactly 2 a.m., this one man would scream for me.  I had monitors and devices in each room in case there was an emergency.  What happened next was an emergency, at least early on.  My room was near his, and it did not take much for me to quickly respond to any issue that could arise in the home. 

 

He was a retired British Colonel who was 92 years old.  He was born in 1893 and was in the military until he retired.  He spent the better part of 46 years in the British Navy. 

 

He would holler for me, “Joe, Mayday, MAYDAY!’ 

 

I ran to his room to find that his external catheter was removed.  He had no clothes on for obvious reasons.  I saw that he had made a mess of himself, his bed, and his entire room.  It took about an hour to clean up and put fresh sheets, pillow cases and the like to begin the process of his immediate need. 

Mopping the floor and wiping down everything in his military path was challenging.  Didn’t need any smells or disease bacteria to infiltrate his personal space. 

 

I was not a doctor or nurse, but I could do everything including C.P.R. if needed. 

 

Once all was clean and he was back in bed, he wanted to talk about his war stories from the World War he had been in.  This was 1985 when I did this job, and knowing he was 92, gave me some insight to history and that war. 

Britain declared war on Germany on September 3, 1939, after Germany invaded Poland.  The British Empire, including forces from across the Commonwealth, played a significant role throughout the war, fighting in various theaters of conflict. 

 

This precious 92 year old Colonel, had hundreds of stories, and every night around the same early hours of each morning I was ready for his battle cry.  “Mayday, MAYDAY.”

 

My response was one of sheer joy finally and I convinced him to stop messing with that external catheter.  All he really wanted was someone to “visit” him and listen to his stories.  It was no longer a job to me, it was an honor to spend time with this man who lived a life of valor and dignity.  He passed away while he was in my care from natural causes.  At times, he was “naked, and I clothed him.” 

 

“I was a stranger, and you took me in.” 

 

During the 1990’s, I spent some time in Portland, Oregon as an apartment manager for a retirement community for those who were 65 and older.  I managed 36 units and did all of the landscaping and restoration of each apartment whenever someone would move or pass away.  God had given me several divine appointments with many of the elderly residents, and I cherished them all. 

 

One, in particular stood out.

 

One of the ladies called me for a maintenance issue from a small leak from her kitchen sink. 

I arrived and fixed the problem but found that she wanted to talk.  So, I spent as much time as my job would allow and had an opportunity to pray for her.  But not in the beginning. 

 

The back story for this lady was this.  I never saw her outside when the weather was balmy or even cooler weather.  Her curtains were always closed.  Never open.  Never. 

 I hadn’t met her until this maintenance issue happened.  All of the residents had their rent checks sent directly to my office so that I did not have to collect rent or deal with the monies. 

 

This day was about to drastically change for one woman and her son. 

I had noticed on every Thursday afternoon that a man, who was probably around 40, appeared on a bicycle.  He drove it too the front door of this particular woman’s apartment.  I could see from my office this view and saw that he pulled his bicycle inside. 

 

I watched and watched as he never came out, and didn’t think anything was out of the ordinary.  It is okay to have visitors and it is none of my business who visited and when they could.  No real rules regarding residents and the occupancy of their tiny apartments. 

 

Friday morning, he would re-appear and drive away on his bicycle.  This was his routine every Thursday afternoon and Friday morning. 

 

So, once I met her through this maintenance fix, I casually asked her, “By the way Mildred, who by chance is the man who arrives every now and then on his bicycle?” 

(You would of thought I had stabbed her in her heart with her response to my casual question.) 

 

She began to cry and sob and convulse in emotional pain for over 5 minutes after my question.  Once she calmed down, I heard her story. 

 

“That is my son.  He is homeless and has been for over 30 years Joe.” 

 

She went on to tell me the thirty minute story, as she cried off and on throughout her explanations.  “When my only son was 9 years old, he was struck by an automobile while riding his bicycle.  He almost died.  As a result of his injuries, he was diagnosed with a severe brain contusion, and never fully recovered.  The doctors back then said he would never grow emotionally past the age of 9, and that came true.  My son ran away after he partially recovered and I never saw him again for all these years.   My husband and I looked and looked and tried contacting missing persons and had no success.  There was no hope of ever finding him again.” 

 

  She wept again in front of me. 

 

“I found him just after I moved in here a year ago.  A private detective found him for me.  He got on drugs and alcohol during his young life and never recovered or found purpose in life.” 

 

She continued to cry and explain that once she found him, he would not accept any help from any organization or hospital and remained to this day, on the streets of Portland. 

 

“Joe, I let him come every Thursday to clean up and take a shower and eat a meal.  We talk and cry and talk some more until it is time for him to sleep.  He always remembers me, his mother.  I let him sleep here for one night, and then he leaves on time every Friday morning.” 

 

She cried some more.  In her fear-filled voice she spoke, “The last apartment manager threatened me that if I did not stop letting him visit me, that they were going to evict me Joe.  They kept referring to the lease agreement about apartment occupancy and allowing overnight visitors and all the horrible rules that I was about to be kicked out of here for.” 

 

With a pause in her tears and voice, she stated, “I just can’t ignore him, he is my only son.” 

 

I remember on the Friday mornings, as this man left on his bicycle, that he had a small brown sack which he clutched with his right hand as he steered the bike out of the apartment complex.  She told me it was a sack lunch and that she did not want him to go hungry. 

 

Then, out of nowhere, she cried bitter tears.  She confided in me a very personal tragedy in her young life. 

 

“Joe, when I was 15, my Pastor of our church molested me, and I have never resolved this and I feel so dirty and unworthy.  I thought the church was suppose to help, but in my case, I was destroyed.  I lived with this secret all these years and never told my husband during our 60 years of marriage.  I do not know why I am telling you this, but I need to let go of all of this pain.” 

 

I led her to Jesus Christ when I prayed for her.  She stopped crying and was so thankful, that my words will not do this moment justice.  I can only write about it.  I lived it.  I watched it unfold before my very eyes that day.  

 

I said to her after the prayer, “As far as your son, he can come and go every week for as long as you need.  He is your son, and I will not say a word to anyone including my boss okay?”  As long  as he does not move in permanently, it will be our little secret!”   

 

She wept again, but with a smile on her face.   

 

It was not about a sink repair. 

It was about her son and his misfortunes.  It was also about her early years of trauma.  Only God knows her true pain. Not just the pain of a son who suffered, but for herself.  She suffered doubly.  His pain.  Her hidden pain and abuse at the hands of “A Man of the Cloth.”  It surely was not the kind of cloth that honored a religious leader.  His religious “order” was out of order, and out of the boundaries on holiness.  It was demonic. 

 

When I was done praying and gave her a hug, I left and gave God all the Glory for His intervention.   

 

The following “sunny” day in Portland, I went outside to do my outside walk around for the sprinkler system when I noticed a new thing.  At apartment 22, where my new friend was set free by Jesus the day before, her curtains were open.  She was planting flowers in her little flower bed.  Singing.  I did not catch the tune, but she waved at me as I strolled by. 

 

A true smile appeared upon her wrinkled, aged face.  As I went by, she stopped me for a moment.  She said softly, “I slept great Joe.  For the first time in many years, I have peace.” 

I smelled a sweet aroma coming from her open, living room window with the faded curtains which were wide open.  It was the smell of something delicious. 

 

She told me, “My son is coming by this afternoon.  I am baking a cake for him because it is his birthday.” 

 

I smiled at her and she winked back and stated, “It is his 9th birthday Joe.  My husband, when he was alive; both of us always use to celebrate it as his 9th because (even though he disappeared) and we could never find him, we celebrated as if he was here again.   

He does not remember anything after that car hit him.  He was hit by the car on his 9th birthday over three decades ago.  It was a brand new bike back then.  It was his birthday present.  He does not remember a thing, but he knows today is his “cake day” and he will be here soon. 

 

She winked at me.  

 

I said, “What man?”  I don’t know about any man on a bike, do you?”   

 

She winked again and went back to singing softly. 

 

I was a stranger and you took me in. 

 

She passed away about two months later. 

 

No one came to take her belongings.  Everything was donated or thrown away.  I cleaned her apartment after all of this happened.  I painted and filled holes where pictures hung for years. 

I checked all of the plumbing to make sure everything worked properly. 

 

As I opened the kitchen cupboard where the sink is, I paused. 

It was because of a small leak in a drain that brought her and I together. 

It was a confession and a bunch of tears that brought the healing. 

 

It was a prayer that caused an eternity in Heaven to be populated with one more soul.  A reminder.  A simple reminder. 

I am glad I showed up for that woman and her emotionally starved, 9-year-old grown man that day.  I am grateful for an old Colonel in the British Navy. 

Even more profound is the fact that Jesus Christ showed up.  He always shows up for the broken hearted and the wounded in this life. 

 

Value.  “What price tag shall we give to those who are never appreciated?”   

One thing is for certain in this life. 

 

Jesus Christ appreciates us.  He loves us.  He cares about us.  He shows up and is never late. 

 

Perhaps the next time we see a grown man on an old bicycle who himself looks undone, we might remember this story.  Everyone who is homeless has a story of how they got there. 

 

“Mayday. MAYDAY!”  It is battle time. 

 

Go to war on your knees in prayer.  If you do, you will realize Who will show up.  Fact is, Jesus is always there whether we realize it or not.    

 

There is value in showing up.  We have to go forward to show up.  Can’t go backwards.  There is nothing back there of any value. 

 

Well, maybe an old rusty bicycle.  Or a few old World War II Navy medals earned the hard way. 

 

Life.  Your life.  It counts.  No matter the circumstances.  In God’s Eyes, you will always be valued.  You are priceless in the heart of the One who places value on you showing up. 

 

He is waiting for you to open your curtains and let the SON-shine in. 

 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

 

Whistler’s Mother

James McNeill Whistler's iconic painting "Arrangement in Grey and Black No. 1," or "Whistler's Mother," a spiritual side can be interpreted in several ways.  Even though the artist intended it as an exercise in aesthetics rather than a sentimental portrait, it was deemed as a portrait with dignified demeanor in the way the artist painted his mother

Her personality and character was emphasized in the eyes of the public. 

This oil painting was not meant to highlight her except for the quality of the painting alone.  James McNeill, the artist, was reportedly frustrated by the overwhelmingly sentimental public response.

 

Just goes to show you that a picture, (or oil painting in this case),

This can be worth much more than a thousand words.

 

Despite the artist's intentions, 'Whistler's Mother" has resonated with viewers for generations, embodying universal themes and eliciting emotional responses that often lean towards the spiritual interpretations of motherhood, devotion, and quiet strength.

 

This leads me to my story, Years ago, I met what would eventually become two of several nieces by marriage to Uncle Joe.

When she was a little girl around 6 years old, she and her sister would play in the living room of their blessed Mom and Daddy's home.

Raised by loving, nurturing parents, and the Godly instructions that go with "training up a child in the way he should go, and when he/she is old he will not depart from it.  Proverbs 22: 6, seemed perfected in their innocence.

Their child-like faith was evident as I watched with joy and glee as these two sister's entertained all who were watching.  They danced and played and mostly sang about Jesus their Savior.

Like "Whistler's Mother" both little girls were building upon their foundations set by their loving Christian parents, and you could tell the construction was valid and strong.  Both their foundations were flawless and ready to construct the rest of their spiritual houses.

Time went on and the attributes depicted in the portraits by artist McNeill, became evident in both my "NOW" nieces.

Today, as I was visiting this family, my one niece was sitting in a chair with her feet up on a small footstool, similar to the one in this portrait.

With my spirit, I saw this young woman of God sitting there and told her I would be writing about what I saw.

This young lady is pregnant with her third child, and the attributes of motherhood shine in her countenance.

Like the real Whistler's mother, she embodies a quiet strength and resilience too.  Anna McNeill Whistler, depicted in the painting, faced financial hardships and personal tragedies throughout her life.  Her dignified and contemplative posture can be seen as representing the mother she truly was.  A mother with peace.

My niece today was showing, in the Spirit of the Lord, many of these attributes too.

I marveled at what I saw in the Spirit.

No human being is perfect, including myself as I write this.  I see what I see, and I felt compelled to write about it.

Though the artist employed a minimalist approach, focusing on tonal harmonies and a restricted color palette, which was a departure from traditional portraiture at the time of the painting in 1871, it was often told that Anna prayed during the time of the painting.

This memorable portrait of a mother looking quite prudish and rather disapproving with a pursed lips expression was really not what was going on in her heart of hearts.

She expressed more than resolute motherhood.  Her life represented peace in the midst of her personal storms.

My nieces, all three, are their own personalities.  The one I speak of in this writing is all about having three little girls and I can see her resolute attitude to raise all of them in the admonition of the Lord Jesus.

No person's life is perfect, and like me, I am still undone at times.  I know where my strength comes from.  It comes from Jesus.  Watching that little girl and her sister back in the early 1990's is a memory I choose to keep close to my heart.  A child's innocence never really leaves.  It just gets older.  Like wine, it ages with time, and I choose to see her and her sister thrive in their pursuits of joy and happiness.

Like Jairus in the Bible in Mark 5, I can see a little girl who is being raised to life again.  Not that she is or has been spiritually dying, but I see a resurrection of sorts in her.  I don't really know her as I only see this family once a year at best during a family reunion.

This reunion was birthed in part to her taking the reins to have one to remember and memorialize another niece who tragically died a few years ago.

I never want to think that a parent should ever outlive their children, but it does happen.  For my family by marriage it is, and still remains, a blemish of pain in all of our hearts.

God uses all of us to help remember and honor the life of a young girl who died prematurely.

My niece and nieces are all beautiful in the eyes of Jesus Christ.  LIfe has a way of bringing everything full circle.  For me it happened many, many years ago.  I cherish all sisters.  The two I have been eluding to are precious in the sight of God Almighty.

I just hope and pray at 69 years old now, that I get to live and see the fruit of all of my in-laws.  All of them are loved  by Jesus.  And loved by me.

Whistler's mother is just a story.  It is a true painting worth more that anyone could imagine in regard to dollar value.  It is priceless.

The image of "Whistler's Mother" has been used since the Victorian era as an icon for motherhood, affection for parents, and family values in general, especially in the United States.

The picture of my niece today, sitting there pregnant and happy, reminds me of the way life should be.  Living.  Not just in an oil painting.  But in real life.

I honor her and all of my family, young and old.  I am an old guy now.

That is a good thing.  I have been preaching this precious Gospel for over 35 years now and I hope my prayers are answered soon for all of the family I dearly love.

To her, and to the rest of my wife's family I say, "Value is more than money."  True value in the Lord Jesus is how HE sees us.  I know that I know that today reminded me, not of a pregnant niece in a chair like the portrait in oil.

It reminded me of a little girl and her sister dancing in a living room with Jesus on their lips and in their hearts.

Keep dancing.  Keep singing. I am painting with words from my heart a portrait that will last into eternity.  I paint with words.  I pray with words.  God hears both. It is HIS nature.  He is the ultimate artist.  He never runs out of oil for the canvas.  He is the masterpiece on the portrait of our hearts.  He signed our portraits, individually.  Not with a signature in ink.  But with HIS Blood.  Thank God He never runs out of that precious, ever-flowing, and life-giving flow.  I'm "Whistling now."

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Setting Your Face Like Flint

“A Forty-year Prison Sentence”

 

Isaiah 50: 1-8, “Thus says the Lord: Where is the certificate of your mother’s divorce, whom I have put away?  Or which of My creditors is it to whom I have sold you?  For your iniquities you have sold yourselves, and for your transgressions your mother has been put away.  Why, when I came, was there no man?  Why, when I called, was there none to answer?  Is My hand shortened at all that it cannot redeem?  Or do I have no power to deliver?  Indeed, with My rebuke I dry up the sea, I make the rivers a wilderness; their fish stink because there is no water and die of thirst.  I clothe the Heavens with blackness, and I make sackcloth their covering.  The Lord God has given ME the tongue of the learned, That I should know how to speak a word in season to him who is weary.  He awakens ME morning by morning, He awakens My ear to hear as the leaned.  The Lord God has opened My ear; And I was not rebellious, nor did I turn away.  I gave My back to those who struck Me, and My cheeks to those who plucked out the beard; I did not hide MY face from shame and spitting.  For the Lord God will help Me; therefore, I will not be disgraced; Therefore, I have set My face like a flint, and I know that I will not be ashamed. 

 

A lot to unpack here. 

 

Verse 7, regarding setting ones’ face like flint is truly a declaration of faith and courage.  It illustrates that when we trust in God’s help, we can face any challenge with unwavering determination and a confident expectation of not being defeated or disgraced.   

 

This also is often interpreted as a prophesy about Jesus Christ, who, despite facing immense suffering and humiliation, remained steadfast in His mission, knowing that God would ultimately vindicate Him, according to Isaiah’s prophetic explanations of this entire chapter. 

 

This portion of Isaiah 50: 4-7 contains the third Servant Song, wherein the prophet Isaiah speaks of the suffering of the Messiah.  He goes on to express his complete confidence in God, no matter what he sees or hears.  His declaration is something we all can learn from. 

Isaiah 50:7, regarding setting your face like flint, was a word given to me from a preacher back in 2006.  This was just prior to beginning the LIFE HOUSE church that was birthed because of this word from the Lord spoken to me about my “confidence” to preach the Gospel and make disciples of men.  This mandate also included “equipping the saints for the work of the ministry.”  This preacher I speak of began working with me in prison ministry back in 2005, and we began a 16-year relationship before he went to Heaven in 2021. 

 

Setting our face like flint means many things.  Number One: We will not shrink back from our mission to serve the Lord Jesus.  Never.  No matter what comes our way.  No quitting or backsliding or giving up.  Jesus never gave up on us, and we do not have the right to quit if we are truly born again in the Spirit.  “What is our alternative?”  Go back into the world and live like we did prior to meeting Christ?  I do not think so.  If we do, even temporarily, we are really saying, “I just do not think the Blood of Jesus shed for me was quite good enough.” 

 

Well, His shed Blood is more than sufficient.  It was and is powerful to set the captive free. 

 

I have been setting my face like flint from the day I was saved in prison back in 1977.  This is an automatic response for every inmate, in the physical realm, to protect oneself and to be resolute in fighting to stay alive in prison.  Does not matter if you are a Christian or not.  If you hesitate, procrastinate, or even give one glimpse of weakness, your life in prison will no longer belong to you.  You can, and will be abused, used, and ground up like powder in a strong wind.  Blown away for eternity. 

 

That is prison.  “But what about life outside of prison?”  I will get to that soon. 

Flint, a very hard, dark rock, is used figuratively in the Bible to express hardness, as in the firmness of horses’ hoofs (Isaiah 5:28), and the toughness of an impossible task that requires unwavering determination on our part. 

Ezekiel 3: 8-9, “Behold, I have made your face strong against their faces, and your forehead strong against their foreheads.  Like adamant stone, harder than flint, I have made your forehead; do not be afraid of them, nor be dismayed at their looks, though they are a rebellious house.” 

 

Reminds me of my first day in prison, prior to working in the cotton fields. 

Unbeknownst to me at the time, I entered the dayroom with around fifty inmates. 

 

My first learning lesson was about to happen to me.  Not out of total ignorance, as I was enlightened in the County Jail prior to prison about the games played in prison.  I was still fried from all the drugs I had done, so I only remember this following incident because it relates to this message.  I have been given back my full memory now so here we go. 

 

I walk into the day room and sit on a wooden bench towards the back.  There are young men like me, (all of us between 18-22 years old) talking loudly and many playing dominoes.  The bulk of these men are those who have been here for long periods of time and knew all the rules and the nature of extortion games. 

 

I am sitting all alone with absolutely no understanding fully of my prison sentence, much less the cotton fields that awaited me the next morning.  I am a miserable human being and could care less about anyone around me. 

I am 20 years old, and a younger inmate sat down on the same bench near me, but not too close.  I guess I radiated a spirit of “psycho”, and he temporarily kept his distance from me.  Finally, after a few minutes, he spoke to me. 

 

“Hey man, are you from Dallas County?  I hear that you turned state's evidence against one of my homeboys here, and for $10.00 a week, I can offer you protection.” 

 

(Turning state’s evidence, or “ratting” or “snitching” on someone in jail or prison is an instant death sentence.) 

 

I listened to what he said, and then I responded, “If you do not move away from me in the next 5 seconds, I will pull out your eyeballs and...” (Can’t mention my other words, which are not appropriate.) 

 

He left me alone. 

 

I sat for a while and decided I did not like what was playing on the television which was hanging on a steel rack, extended from the ceiling with chains.  I walked up slowly to the television.  I changed the channel. 

 

When I woke up, there were the three gorillas who had been sitting on the front row, standing over me.  My nose was broken, and my jaw swollen.  I had been knocked unconscious by one of them, and was told, “Don’t you ever do that again boy.” 

 

Learning lesson.  I could not eat for several days because my jaw was partially broken too, and my nose was not functioning enough to smell what I was eating.  It was not like it was food that causes you to gain an appetite. 

From that day forward, as my mind and senses began to come back to me, I realized something.  I was indeed in a Maximum-Security Prison, and I had to deal with all that this environment brings.  Insanity.  Extortion, Rape, Murder and many other fear-factors attached to being in prison with all young men.  Testosterone overload. 

 

I had to set my face (and my mind and what was left of my wicked heart), like flint. 

 

No wavering.  No excuses. No hope of ever being normal again.  At least this is how I thought without any feelings of remorse for my crimes or any compassion for other psychos like me. 

 

Being steadfast in your beliefs is paramount to survival outside of prison too. 

Life outside of prison can be like a prison to many people trying to work out their Salvation in Christ.  We get discouraged and let down with broken promises and empty dreams at times in this Christian Walk.  We are not immune from trials and temptations either.  We must set our mind and our heart to the truth of God and His Word to survive and live free. 

Jesus did not back out or run away from the Cross of Calvary.  No enemy or accuser could deter Him from accomplishing His purpose.  He had set His face like flint. 

 

We are all setting our face to something.  Like things that are not flint-rock-solid? 

 

Examples are the cares of this world that Jesus warned us about.  I do not want to be an enemy of God, nor do you. 

How about lusting after your neighbor’s wife?  Or keeping up with the Jones’s?   

 

There are a multitude of things that are softer than flint.  Wishy-washy Christianity?  Going to church, but never being the church?  Giving your tithes and doing that out of duty which disqualifies you as a cheerful giver.  God allows grumpy people to fund the Gospel too.  Cheerful means hilarious.  I want to be that way in all that I give.  Not just finances. 

 

I get the fuel for my spiritual tractor by preaching in a local prison around 55 miles from home.  I go there every Tuesday.  This last Tuesday, the 29th of July, I was just about ready to begin my class, when a man approached me. 

“Hey Joe, can I talk to you for a moment?” 

I always make time for everyone, no matter the time limits in prison ministry in the chapel. 

 

He stated, “I am bummed out a lot lately and feel depressed.” 

He went on to tell me the story of how he was going to be given a smaller sentence through a plea-bargaining agreement from his attorney and his victim. 

 

This man said to me, “I was going to get around 5 years, but at the last minute, the court system and my attorney came to a different agreement.  “I got 40 years Joe.”  He said with tears in his eyes.   

 

“What am I to say to this man?” 

 

I had a chance to pray for him and encouraged him to remember that the Christian life is a rollercoaster at best.  Ups and downs, slow and fast, scary and joyful too.  I went on to say to him that, despite the long sentence, Jesus will use your life.  “Do you love Jesus, I asked him?”  He answered me, “Yes, I do Joe, and I just want to stop thinking about the time I have to do and be happy as best as I can.” 

 

I prayed for him. 

Before he sat down, he asked me, “If you have time again in the future can I talk with you some more?” 

 

Of course, you can, and I will always have a listening ear and a prayer for you, just like all the other men here if they want to talk or pray.  I am here, not as a preacher, but as a servant of Jesus Christ. 

 

Part of the Gospel, if not the main reason for the Gospel, is about being a good listener.  Not just a speaker or teacher. 

I marvel at a friend of mine who goes in with me regularly.  He visits with the men, prays for some of them and always tries hard to remember their names.  He is a thousand times better to remember men’s names than I am.  It is a gift from God to him for sure.  They sometimes sit next to him in the back and visit quietly as I minister from the pulpit.  This is not a distraction to me, and it is needed for the sake of the men who come to talk with him.  They need a listening ear that truly listens, not just a sermon.  The teaching lesson I do is not as important as the one-on-one time this man of God spends with many of the men we visit. 

 

Jesus said, “I needed clothes, and you clothed me, I was sick, and you looked after me, I was in prison, and you came to visit me.” 

 

In verse 40 of Matthew 25 declares, And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to Me.’ 

 

I am grateful I get the privilege and honor to minister the Gospel.  My friend who goes with me may not be a preacher or a teacher, but he is a man of God.  Many men respect him, and they know that he will listen to them and offer advice and love from God and His Word.  Visiting is more than showing up.  Visiting men in prison is about showing up to love them, remember their names, and giving of their time to be a vessel of honor.   

 

This entire chapter in Matthew is Jesus’ words.  Fully.  He had HIS face set like flint.  He wanted to.  He didn’t have to.  He loved all of us.  He still does. 

Staying on track in the Christian life requires setting our faces like flint.  The Apostle Paul teaches us to run the race with our eyes on the prize.  (1st Corinthians 9: 24-27).  Paul set his face like flint to finish his course:  

“Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.  Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it.  But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”  Philippians 3: 12-14. 

 

Setting our face like flint.  It is a rock.  A very, very hard piece of granite-like stone. 

Steadfast and enduring this Christian life takes time and effort.  It is not a quick fix. 

Each time, from this day forward, if I get discouraged, or bummed out about something or someone, I will remember that man in prison Tuesday this week. 

A possible 5-year sentence turned into 40 years.  He will come up for parole the first time in 20 years.  He must wait for half of his sentence to qualify.  He will be in his 60’s before he goes before the Board of Pardons and Paroles. 

I am 69.  I just can’t imagine the war he is in spiritually.  I can’t even empathize or sympathize that amount of time to spend in prison. 

 

I hope he is able, with Jesus Christ in his heart, to set his face like flint too. 

Learning lesson for me is to: “Continue to remember those in prison as if you were chained with them in prison, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.  Hebrews 13: 3. 

 

I once had a hard head and a hard heart.  If I am going to continue setting my own face like flint, I must remember “who” I am ministering to fully. 

I am preaching and teaching God’s people and those who need to know Christ.  I have not attained, like Paul either.  I just want to finish my race right.  I must press on. 

 

Like Isaiah, he was a servant to Israel with a message.  “Set you face like flint.” 

Remember, God’s hand is not too short to redeem us.  I am grateful that I received Isaiah 50 when I did, so many years ago.  My face is set.  My heart is right.  My hands are reaching out to the lost, and my eyes are seeking to make eye contact with every man I meet in prison.  I may not remember their names all the time.  But I will remember them in my heart when they share their feelings.   

Especially about a 40-year sentence. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Doors, Gates and Paths: “Influences”

In this past week of July, on the 22nd, which was a Tuesday, Ozzy Osbourne died.  Iconic rock and roll lead singer for Black Sabbath, he was heralded as the “Prince of Darkness.” 

In the same week on the 24th of July, Hulk Hogan passed into eternity. 

Terry Gene Bollea, better known by his wrestling ring name of the Hulk, was deemed one of the best by the Wrestling federation and World Championship Wrestling.  His massive physique, and his trademark blond horseshoe moustache and bandanas, Hogan was widely regarded as the most recognized wrestling star worldwide. 

In his prime he was six foot seven inches tall and weighed 302 pounds.  The Hulk was a force and dominated the ring. 

 

Beyond that, his proclamation of knowing Jesus Christ as his Savior was by far greater than any feat of strength, he performed in the ring under the bright lights of Hulka mania. 

Ozzy, on the other hand, was noted by his son Jack to have known Jesus in his younger years, and towards the end of his life was known to read his Bible and profess God.  The Godfather of Heavy Metal was not known, despite his lyrics speaking about the dark side, as a Satanist or Devil Worshipper. 

 

His antics on stage would cause one to believe he was demon possessed, yet he was a performer and did spend many years using drugs and alcohol.  It is obvious he was not serving God during those years, but he came back to his faith according to his son Jack. 

 

Ozzy once said, “The thing about life that gets me crazy is that by the time you learn it all, it's too late to deal with it.  It should be the other way around.  We should be born with all this sense and knowledge and then get stupider as we get older.” 

 

On to reality. 

No one knows the heart of a man or woman but God.  We can look at a person and the life they lived and come to some spiritual conclusions.  It does not matter what someone confesses, professes, declares or decrees, only God knows whether they are saved by grace in trusting the death of Jesus on the Cross.  Only God, not a man can be a judge. 

 

Now to the influences. 

After my mother died, we moved to Idaho where I tried to continue in high school. 

Within two months, my older brother joined the Army as was off to bootcamp. 

My older sister moved to live with my aunt in Georgia. 

I was left with Daddy and his addiction to alcohol.  He was successful in being an electrical engineer, but booze was his escape from reality, because of the loss of his wife of 21 years.  He drank before she died, but it became a true addiction afterwards. 

My mother died when I was fifteen years old. 

 

I was an addict, using LSD, Meth, and alcohol.  Smoking Marijuana and doing everything I could to escape reality. 

Two addicts living together.  One balding, the other, me, had hair down to the middle of my back.  It was the era of 1972, 

I tried to go to school, but the addiction and the fact I failed every class, prompted Daddy to move back to Texas by 1973.  It was then that I completely dropped out of high school and did my own thing. 

 

Influences.  Black Sabbath and the lyrics of one of Ozzy’s songs was very influential to me.  It opened the door to Satan in the fact that I allowed it. 

Was not Ozzy’s fault, he was an entertainer.  I was a dope fiend. 

 

One song, called “Paranoid” was the one that got me started into insanity.  It said the following: “Finished with my woman ‘Cause she couldn’t help me with my mind.  People think I’m insane, Because I am frowning all the time. 

All day long I think of things, but nothing seems to satisfy.  Think I’ll-lose-my-mind-if I don’t find something, to pacify.  Can you help me Occupy my brain?  Oh, yea.” 

 

There might not be actual demons in the lyrics, but I was so vulnerable after mom died that I was searching for something to “Occupy my brain.” 

It was true that I was “frowning all the time.”   

 

“Nothing seems to satisfy” is an understatement when a person (me) was trying to fill a void with drugs and every evil thing I could back then. 

I played drums in a rock band in Idaho, and Daddy helped us by building a homemade light show that we could use during our performances.  We played at the high school auditorium, and the V.F.W. (veterans of foreign wars) as well. 

 

We played each weekend somewhere using other rock band’s songs.  Black Sabbath, Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin were a few that we copied the best we could, and drugs flowed freely in our veins during the sessions. 

My daddy’s electrical prowess paid off with his version of a color-filled light show.  My buddy Ed used the switches and lights, including a strobe light and black light to bring the full effect of this hard rock musical event.  We would later, during a break, go out to the U-Haul truck and sit in the back with the door shut and smoke dope. 

 

I say all of this to make a spiritual point about the ear gate and the eye gate and the paths of life. 

Proverbs 4: 14-27.  “Do not enter the path of the wicked, and do not walk in the way of evil.  Avoid it, do not travel on it; turn away from it and pass on.  For they do not sleep unless they have done evil; and their sleep is taken away unless they make someone fall.  For they eat the bread of wickedness and drink the wine of violence.  But the path of the just is like the shining sun, that shines ever brighter unto the perfect day.   

The way of the wicked is like darkness; they do not know what makes them stumble.  My son, give attention to my words; incline your ear to my sayings.  Do not let them depart from your eyes; keep them in the midst of your heart; for they are life to those who find them, and health to all their flesh.  Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it spring the issues of life.  Put away from you a deceitful mouth and put perverse lips far from you.  Let your eyes look straight ahead, and your eyelids look right before you.  Ponder the path of your feet and let all your ways be established.  Do not turn to the right or the left; remove your foot from evil.” 

 

That was a lot to digest, yet it is the truth that I did not know at 15 years old. 

It is an obvious thought and needs no clarification that “I do not blame Ozzy Osbourne and his band for my demise spiritually.”  That is ludicrous to believe, and I do not expect those who listen to this kind of music to run out and burn their albums. 

Well, cassettes and CD’s burn too, but you get my point.  

 

 Do not open the door of your heart by watching, listening and following any demonic music and the lyrics that back up the dark side of life.  It is a spiritual thing. 

 

I point to the era after daddy, and I moved back to Texas from Idaho in early 1973. 

I quit school and did more drugs.  Jimi Hendrix became my new idol, and I listened, played his songs on my drum set, and did more drugs. 

I was out of control, and it was just a matter of time that the path I was on was about to become the abyss in my wicked heart. 

In late 1974 my father was murdered, and I ended up with my own legal issues by committing two different attempted murders during 1974-1976.  I was a demon possessed drug and alcohol addict.  An accident waiting to happen. 

I continued this path of destruction until my final crime which put me into prison in September of 1976. 

Just after we buried my daddy in November of 1974, I decided to go to the local drive-in movie alone. 

One year earlier on December 26, 1973, the movie the “Exorcist” was released into theaters. 

This night in early December, I took several hits of Purple Microdot LSD and shot Meth into my veins. 

My friends told me that if I did not have any money for the movie, they had a way in for free. 

I was by myself and was following their advice. 

They said, “Just drive slow over the spikes at the exit of the drive-in theater with your headlights off so no one will see you.” 

Just drive slowly. Huh? 

Well, I did, and popped all four tires as me and my 1974 Ford Pinto hobbled on four rims with flat tires to our spot in the drive in. 

 

High on drugs, and watching with my eyes, I believe, (looking back on this event) that this was the night the demons entered my soul and took up residence. 

It was a pathetic sight to see me driving back to my single-wide trailer a few miles away from the theater.  Four flat tires and driving on my rims at 7 miles per hour, all the way home. 

 

It was a wonder that the police did not pull me over for driving too slowly and D.U.I.D.  The other D stands for Demons.  Driving under the influence of demons and drugs and driving too slowly.  I wonder what the tickets would of cost?  After I sobered up and got out of jail somehow. 

 

This eye gate issue is real.  The ear gate too, as I listened to the horrible music in that movie that was banned in several countries for its depictions of graphic violence and disturbing themes.  This movie was considered unsuitable for the public viewing by the Irish Film Censorship Board.  The board felt that the film's content was too intense for audiences at the time. 

 

Furthermore, the theme of demonic possession and featured graphic imagery and frightening scenes that many deemed inappropriate for general audiences.  It evoked fear for sure.   

Imagine seeing me in my Pinto alone and high on LSD, with demons from hell entering my soul.  Hard to imagine but it happened to me. 

 

I let it all in.  My eye gate was wide open to hell.  My ears heard things that should have never been heard by a normal person.  My path was crooked, and I had to steal four new rims and tires the next day to get my Pinto back on the road so I could do an armed robbery to support my Meth habit.  Real Demon possession. 

 

All my senses were thwarted and full of living-hell-demonic forces because my spiritual doors were wide open and my gates and paths were left unguarded.  It was no wonder I would end up with two attempted murders and ended up in prison. 

 

I needed Jesus.  I needed to be set free from the demonic forces that held me captive during all those 7 years of addiction.  It all stemmed from a broken heart over my parent's deaths.  However, I am the one who did the drugs.  I am the one who listened to Ozzy and the rest of the artists who were addicts themselves. 

 

Hulk Hogan was not Ozzy.  He was a man who had flaws and was labeled an outcast because of his size and stature.  He was a believer in Jesus in his early years but veered off the path of righteousness until his later years when he was a bold proclaimer of Jesus Christ.  He did waste some years of his life living his wrestling dream but came back to Jesus and lived for Christ until he went home to Heaven. 

 

I did not know or watch him in the 1980’s during his prime.  I knew of him but did not watch television much back then.  The rise of Hulkamania brought him to the top and he became a global icon.  His reign as champion lasted 1,474 days, and his matches, especially against rivals like Andre the Giant and Randy Savage, became legendary. 

 

Every superstar or movie legend is still human.  They have a bigger platform in the media and in the world as they end up living in a glass house where everyone watches their every movement. 

 

I speak to this very thing while I preach in prisons weekly.  Men in prison live in a glass house where every other inmate and the guards watch them intensely.  If they are a believer in Jesus, they are watched and tested and attacked more than unbelievers.  Not by the guards necessarily, but the other men test them to see if they are real. 

 

“Why is this?”   

Because there is a hierarchy in prison.  It is a game of king of the mountain.  A felony of murder usually puts you on or near the top.  A cop killer makes you the king. 

A child molester is at the bottom of the fish tank, and he is a target for fishing.  He will be caught, and the crime he committed against a child is perpetrated against him.  Repeatedly until he submits or dies.  It is the way it is in prison.  “No holds barred” as the Hulk would say in wrestling.  This prison environment is not an arena with television cameras and fans watching. 

It is an arena of hell on earth for those who are too weak to survive.  It is the way it is. 

 

I have said all of this for one point, and one to learn from. 

Proverbs said, “Do not enter the path of the wicked.” 

 

Doors, gates and paths.  Open doors from God, and the gates of hell being stopped in your life because Jesus is on the throne of your heart, makes your PATH right and straight. 

 

First point is simple.  Give Jesus your heart. 

 

Second is even better.  Do not open the wrong door.  Leave the gates locked regarding your eyes, ears and mouth.  And simply stay on the path of righteousness in Christ. 

 

He will be the best influencer you will ever have or know.  Goodbye to all the bad influences in our lives.  It is not easy to do, and it is not a lifestyle that is very popular.  But I can guarantee that if you secure the doors, gates and paths with Jesus as your Lord and Savior, you will never regret His influence in your life. 

 

My choices back in the Seventies were bad and ruthless. 

My Godly choices today to serve Jesus with all my heart are the only choices worth making. I certainly am not perfect but strive for His mercy in my life.  I choose to serve Him.   

 

He is the one who can fix our broken hinges on our doors.  He has the key to unlock them and lock them when needed.  He is the ultimate gate keeper of your heart as you surrender to His will daily. 

 

Just remember Proverbs 3:6 which says, “In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” 

 

Verse 8 declares, “It will be health to your flesh, and strength to your bones.” 

 

Influences.  Take a good look at yourself and ask the ultimate question.  “Who am I, and who do I emulate? 

If you are IN Christ, you are in for good.  If you follow Him, you will never be lost again. 

 

I would rather be lost in HIM, than found by this world.  “How about you?” 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Unpacking Emotional Baggage

While packing for my upcoming trip to Oregon for prison ministry and two churches, I ran across this sermon I wrote 10 years ago. 

 

Like any sermon, this one has a beginning and a middle and an end.  Learned that while doing prison ministry for the last 30 plus years.  There is a definite time limit with no exceptions in prisons.  When the officers say it is time for the men to go, it is time to go, even if I am in the middle of the altar invitation. 

Hence, the beginning, middle and the end of the message.  Gotta preach and have time to pray for men and their needs, so there is no time to go off on some rabbit trail and not focus on the three elements of a message. 

 

This is learned behavior so that God has enough time to heal, save and deliver men at an altar in prison.  Of course, He can do what needs to be done on behalf of a man in prison whether I preach or run out of time. 

 

This message was birthed out of my own experiences in the past.  Luggage is not baggage. 

It is not about luggage for a trip because I am speaking to baggage not a four-wheel piece of luggage holding clothes and necessities for travel.   

 

It is about baggage that we sometimes hold on to for various reasons which I will get into soon. 

2nd Corinthians 5: 1 declares, “For we know that if our earthly house, this tent, is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” 

Verse 6-8 goes on to say, “So we are always confident, knowing that while we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord.  For we walk by faith, not by sight.  We are confident, yes, well pleased rather to be absent from the body and to be present with the Lord.” 

 

As believers in Jesus and having had the true “born again” experience based on John 3: 3, then we know we are never actually absent from the Lord because of the Holy Ghost. 

 

Romans 6: 12, “Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body, that you should obey it in its lusts.” 

 

Our bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit and grace does allow for us to be in a place of repentance.  Not to take God and His grace for granted though. 

So, what about the spiritual baggage? 

 

Emotions cannot be managed.  Having any control over our emotions is only accomplished by walking in the Spirit and denying the fleshly attributes that seem to control our lives at times.  It is like a spiritual roller coaster that we climb on and go along for the ride.  Up and down.  Happy and sad.  Twists and turns.  Anger then joy.  Upside down, loop to loop, in a depression that the world deems as Bi-Polar.  This may be a real neurological disorder with wires crosses in our brains that medication can help with. 

 

But I am talking about getting on a ride like a roller coaster that we had no business getting on in the first place.  Why do we wait in line at theme parks for hours, just to ride a ride that lasts less than one minute? 

That cost us a bunch of money for a quick fix of adrenaline.   

 

Attributes and characteristics of “baggage” in our emotions are as follows: 

Mood swings, anger, out of control verbal rantings, isolation, fears, anxieties, anxiousness, nervousness, and many others, are sometimes a result childhood trauma. Not all, but some. 

 

How then can we be led by God and His Spirit if we never get the baggage out of our emotions?  They live there in the small zipper pouches like in regular luggage.  They are hidden in small pouches tucked away in our deepest part of the luggage, hoping they make it through security at the airport. 

 

Rather than “check” this baggage, how about throwing them away in the nearest recycle bin.  Better yet put it in the landfill can so it can’t be recycled into another vessel down the road. 

Perhaps it is time to get off that roller coaster and get out of that theme park forever, and do not go back. 

 

There is no thrill in being tormented by emotional baggage.  I know from all my past life experiences how easy it is to allow them back into my carry-on bag. 

 

Ephesians 4: 30-32, “And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, by whom you were sealed for the day of redemption.  Let all bitterness, wrath, clamor, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice.  And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you. 

 

Hold on.  “You mean I have the baggage of bitterness in my heart?”   

 

Is this why I have a tough time forgiving the ones who hurt me?  Even if they are dead and gone, I hold on to grievances towards them? 

Yes, yes and yes. 

 

We do not want to admit this as a Christian, but it can be true when the right stressors in life hit us between our eyes like a bullet shot from the rifle of our memory banks in our heart. 

 

We act, react, respond and then renew that pain by reliving it over, and over like that roller coaster with its twists and turns and loop-the-loops.  Vomiting comes after that ride, or even during it. 

 

1st Peter 5: 6-8, “Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.  Be sober and vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.” 

 

It is like someone at the airport, before the security checkpoint, who slips a handgun in your carry-on luggage while you are not looking because you are too busy in line at Starbucks lusting for that tall Americano with two shots, foam and creme on the top. 

Handguns at the airport seem like the extreme, but the devil is always looking for an opportunity to “slip” something by you, near you or even in your thought life.  Baggage. 

An arrest is forthcoming at the airport for a gun in your bag.  Just try to explain that one away.  “Officer, I did not know it was in there.”  (It is not the Americano’s fault either.  Should have been sober and vigilant.)  We had a part to play in the baggage at this point. 

 

 You can’t explain away a former hurt that turned into a revolver in your own hand, pointing it at yourself daily.  Whether the chamber is loaded or not, it is the fact that you are unable to let go and let God disarm you.  Your spirit is crushed, and your emotions are Topsy-Turvey, and you want to get off that ride, even if you must jump off. 

 

Death is imminent either way.  God does not want you to die spiritually or even be sick.  He wants you to recognize your baggage for what it is.  It is old, rotten, tattered and filled with the ugliness that it was meant to be for.  It may not have been your fault either. 

 

People can be mean and disgusting.  Parents too.  Look out for your own self and be healed and trust the process of God helping you humble yourself.  Humility is an attribute of the Holy Ghost.  Bitterness will go away in time, and you will receive the joy of the Lord.  In the way He wanted for you all along. 

 

I know what it is to be MY own worst enemy.  If I could blame someone, or somebody that would have been the easy way out for me in1971 when mom died.  I could blame it on the drugs.  Yes, drugs open the door for the devil, but the devil did not open my mouth and drop the LSD I took.  He did not open the can of beer.  I did.  I am the one who put a funnel in my mouth and poured the gallon of alcohol down the gullet of my greed and addiction. 

 

I did it to myself, and I am responsible for my actions.  All of them.  Daily and hourly.  Today is much different than back when mom and daddy died.   

 

I am a new man in Christ thanks to the Texas penal system and the felonies I committed.  Sounds weird that I would thank my felonies.  I am not thanking them the way most would think.  I am thankful that my sin did not kill me before it was too late.  Prison saved my life.  Jesus Christ, while I was in prison, opened my bags inside my heart and mind and unzipped them for me.  The release from my emotional bags full of demons and desires, left me.  Once and for all. 

 

I only remember and write about and preach about my past for ONE reason.  So that I can win some to Christ.  No more.  No less.  

 

I hated my past sin-filled life. I am a forgiven man, who does recognize my current frail moments.  I need forgiveness from God and the ones I love for the moments of stupidity and sin that I do from time to time.  If you are perfect, or perfected, please turn down the light from your Halo, it is blinding me, okay? 

Emotional baggage can be psychologically evaluated by a professional doctor.  You can be determined to be “reactionary” and obsessive.  You can be diagnosed as compulsive and deemed to have a disorder.  With grandiose thinking too. 

My disorder was physical, mental, emotional and spiritual at the same time. 

If the State Hospital I was in before prison was right; I would have never went to prison. 

 

Facts are facts.  If the psychosis medications given to me for depression and delusional behaviors were diagnosed correctly, then the medication would have worked. 

The meds did not work.  Try and understand that the Hospital did their best under the circumstances.  I was no different than other patients in there who were diagnosed the same. 

It was not because I was not depressed.  It was not because I did not have demons and desires to kill.  It was not that I didn’t hate myself and God.  I hated everything. 

It was not because I did not want to live and was determined to kill myself over my rotten life at age 20 while in the State Hospital.  This nut house had different varieties living there.  I was in the Adolescent Unit, housed with 18–22-year-old mental patients.  I was a drug addict out of control. 

There were more prescriptions drugs inside this hospital than I had ever seen.  If the Thorazine and Lithium meds had not turned me into a zombie, I would have robbed the nurses at the nurse's station and overdosed to put myself out of my miseries.   

I could not rob them because I would have slipped on the tile floor beneath me because of the gallons of my own slobber drooling out of the side of my mouth from the medications. 

 

I am not insensitive or trying to blame anyone for my behavior.  I appreciate what the doctors tried to do for me.  They are the professionals, not me.  I am revealing what happened to me with no blame given to anyone or any State facility including the prison I was in.  I DID what I DID to MYSELF.  I am the only one to blame for my sin.  Jesus forgave my sin and gave me a new life. 

Emotional baggage along with many other pieces of my luggage hidden between the layers of my insanity.  Deep zipper pockets in my baggage.  It was not a tiny shave kit bag.  It was a full set of Samsonite, indestructible, dent free baggage. 

 

Reality was, I needed to go to prison.  I deserved to go to prison.  I had to go to prison for my life to be spared and my soul delivered from hell.   

Prison was a result of my felonies, but more so it was part of God and His redeeming power.  To take what Satan had meant for evil and turn it around for the good of my life and God’s will for me to be the preacher he desired me to be.  In Him, I have fulfilled His purposes.  His will, not mine be done.  Now, for almost 40 years I have been drug free, medication free and the joy of the Lord Jesus is my daily prescription. 

 

I am 69 years old now.  When I was in prison at age 20, I was never given medication.  If the State Hospital was correct in their treatment plan for me, then I could have continued in prison, on medication issued from the prison doctors, and being happy, happy-go-lucky shouting, “HIP-HIP-HORAY" while in the cotton fields picking cotton.  That was not the case file written on me. 

My case file said, “Convicted Felon.”  End of that story. 

 

Statistics regarding inmates in jails, prisons and detention centers in America are that 54% of State Prisoners, and 45% of Federal Prisoners have some sort of mental health issues. 

Jail statistics vary from state to state.  If this is the case and some of these prisoners are medicated, then the statistic would change over time if the mental health would improve.  There would be tangible, documented and verified results showing improvement. 

 

Incarceration and medicated prisoners are a slippery slope to analyze. 

I am not a doctor or a statistician.  I am an ex-convict saved by the grace of Jesus Christ.  I can only speak for myself and my experience.  Including preaching the Gospel for almost four decades primarily to inmates. 

I have seen men change and go from depressed to the joy of the Lord.  I have watched statistics change and true revival break out in various prisons in this nation.  Jesus is the cure for all that ails mankind, but strongholds exist, and prayer is very much needed to save America. 

 

When inmates are released, within three years of the release date; 67.8 percent of the ex-offenders are rearrested.  Within 5 years, the percentage goes up to 76.6%.  What is wrong with this picture? 

 

There have been many rehabilitation programs, training schools, trade schools and the like in prisons all across this nation.  I was in machine shop in prison in 1977 after I was saved by Jesus. 

We had an upholstery class and another optional class for beginning welding.  We had school to get our General Education Diploma. 

There is only one excuse for a man to re-offend after prison. 

He likes his sin. 

He, or she, enjoys doing what they do and perhaps they are so institutionalized, that prison is the only place these prisoners can function and live out their days. 

This is not because the States failed to rehabilitate.   In my case, it was called Department of Corrections.  I was corrected in many ways in the cotton fields by the Boss Man.  That story is for another time. 

 

Without a complete heart-transplant by Jesus called a transformation from death unto life, then human beings will reoffend.  A new mind in Christ is needed to understand that without Jesus intervening for a person, they may continue in the lifestyles that are causing them to be in prison or jail.   

Even more, there are thousands of “normal” people functioning in America without medication to keep them happy. 

 

They are not in a physical prison.  Thank God.  But the prison they live in with the baggage of their emotions, has many on a spiritual death row.  They are dead men and women walking.  Meaning that they, like a real death row inmate, are just waiting for the moment when they are put to death.  Not by the State with the death penalty in a real execution.  But in a different “lethal injection” spiritually.  No Governor to call at the midnight hour for a stay of execution. 

No attorney to hold back the legal consequences of the crime. 

 

More hardline statistics. 

One out of four Americans will have their savings accounts destroyed.  Primarily because of their mishandling of money. 

One out of four continue: deaths related to tobacco.  High Blood pressure brought on by stress.  Babies in America will die because of the “shaking” of the caregiver.  One out of four Americans (adults and teens combined) will die in their depression and anxiety.  Either by a self-inflicted way, or through means like “Death by Cop.”   Purposely pointing a loaded gun at a police officer so the officer will shoot them, rather than them taking their own lives. 

 

So, basically 75% of Americans are okay and happy and healthy people.  But are they saved by Jesus and born again? 

What about the 25%? 

 

If our emotions do not get handled and managed, this statistic can climb. 

The Demonic realm is real, and we must fight it with prayer.  There is a war going on that you can’t see with the naked eye.  It is absolute and in the Bible.  The Devil is out to KILL, STEAL and DESTROY lives.  

 

 “We battle not with flesh and blood but with principalities and powers and spiritual wickedness in this age; against spiritual hosts of wickedness in Heavenly places.”   Ephesians 6: 12. 

 

The battle belongs to the Lord of Hosts.  The Most High is in charge, but we have a part to play.  It is called prayer, pray and pray some more. 

Like going to a hotel after a long flight to your destination. 

You arrive and set your luggage on the luggage carrier you found in the little closet. 

You unzip it and pull out your toiletries and arrange them neatly on one of the small towels in the bathroom 

Obviously, you used some sort of antiseptic wipe to wipe down the counter tops and light switches. 

Once this is done, you open the garment back and hang the clothes up. 

Finally, you change into comfortable lounging clothes and relax after that long flight and shuttle to the hotel. 

All is well. 

The only problem is you forgot to pack your Bible. 

 

Yes, online reading the Bible will work as you plug in your 47 devices you brought with you.  It is not a business trip, but a vacation.  Got to have all the gismos and gadgets or you may get depressed.  God forbid your batteries run down. 

The Bible. 

There is something about turning the page in a Bible instead of scrolling with your finger on a laptop. 

The paper makes a sound, and it rustles into place. 

The Word of God staring at you from the large print, study Bible because, if you are my age, you need it.  A magnifying glass interrupts the flow of reading for me. 

I read.  I pray, and I rest in His Promises. 

 

Emotional baggage is unpacked, not in a hotel as described above. 

It is unpacked in His Presence. 

It is unpacked and destroyed by His Power from your repentance and your sorrows.  It is discarded in the spiritual realm by prayer, worship and Glorifying the King of Kings, Jesus. 

I do not know any other way to be set free than to take a trip with my baggage. 

Destination, unknown.  Departure and arrival times, unknown. 

Flight delays?  Probably. 

Turbulence, yes.  In-flight meals, no; just peanuts for the peanut gallery.  First class or coach matters not to Jesus. 

 

He just wants your baggage. 

He needs your baggage. 

 

It will not get lost in transit because you want it too.  It will not go away because you pray. 

It will be, like your sin, forgotten and remembered no more.  As far as the East is from the West. 

 

Take a trip today. 

Don’t forget to pack.  Your flight awaits you.  “All aboard.” 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Unmasking The Lone Ranger

The Lone Ranger was a fictional character which began on the radio in 1933 and then later in a television series from 1949 through 1956.  Black and white television was the era. 

He was a Texas Ranger who had lost three of his comrades to murder by bandits.  His job was to avenge their deaths by rescuing the downtrodden and becoming a type of “superhero” to many in the Old West. 

 

He, and his sidekick Tonto, who was an Indian in the Potawatomi tribe.  He was created as a character to provide dialogue for the Lone Ranger. 

 

The Lone Ranger wore a mask over his eyes with only the eyeholes exposed to see.  He was trying to hide his identity, so he did not alert anyone that he was a former Texas Ranger. 

He and Tonto were on their own “warpath” to eliminate and jail the bad guys and rid the area of crime against the people. 

The Lone Ranger rode a white horse, a stallion, often described as a noble and powerful steed.  This horse was known for his speed and intelligence.  Silver was his name, and when the Lone Ranger achieved justice in the show, he would ride off on Silver and shout, “Hi-Yo, Silver, away!”  A well-known catchphrase. 

 

Some of the townspeople would shout as he rode away, “Who was that masked man?” 

 

Today I will ask the same thing to you.  “Who is the masked Christian attending church, going to Bible studies, and praising Jesus on Wednesday’s and Sundays?” 

 

In the church world, there are masks that we wear at times.  Even in the house of God and where people proclaim to love Jesus, we sometimes wear a mask. 

 

Because of circumstances, situations and trials, and issues with family, we sometimes unintentionally hide behind a mask.  We are not being who we say we are, and we are not who we should be for Jesus. 

Jesus is the only One who can take your mask off. 

 

It is almost like counterfeit Christianity.  The word counterfeit means, made in imitation with intent to deceive.  Not genuine.  Forged to look the same as the original.  Pretending to be real.  A copy intended to be passed off as the authentic article as in counterfeit money or expensive art. 

Falsely represented and not fully represented.  Not free from hypocrisy.  Having cunning abilities to convince people that what they offer is true, real and valuable. 

To simulate or imitate.  Most counterfeiters compete out of greed for wealth knowing full well that they are dishonest liars. 

 

Matthew 23 makes a point beginning in verse one, "The scribes and the Pharisees sit in Moses’ seat.  Therefore, whatever they tell you to observe, that observe and do, but do not do according to their works; for they say, and do not do.  (In other words, they are talkers not walkers.  Their yes is not yes, and their no is not no.)  For they bind heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on men’s shoulders; but they themselves will not move them with one of their fingers.  But all their works they do to be seen by men.” 

 

In modern day Christianity and in some churches, many people attend on Sunday morning.  They come out of duty perhaps.  If they are parents, they take their children to children’s church, while they attend the main service for the adults. 

 

They listen to the message.  IF there is an altar invitation for salvation, or healing or deliverance they will sit as if super-glued to their seats. 

“Would not want my peers to see me at the altar.  They might think something is wrong with me and my marriage.” 

 

How pathetic is this.  Humans need prayer.  People need to get over their pride and indifference and quit being pretenders in the house of God. 

Like God can’t see our true motivations and behaviors? 

 

I consider this behavior as rebellion.  Not rebellion against the Pastor.  It is their sin against God. 

Once the service is over, they pick up their children, walk to their parked car, and drive to lunch at their favorite cafeteria.  Full of other church going, mask wearing, hypocrites. 

 

Yes, hypocrisy reigns strong in the church.  Not all churches, but you get where I am going with this. 

 

The masks we wear on Sunday morning and Wednesday evenings are real.  But these masks do not compare to the ones we strap on at home and at work. 

 

I knew a man who lived with a Pastor Daddy.  This Pastor preached at his church and wore his robe at the pulpit.  He was a great speaker and knew how to quote scripture and break them down to their simplicity.  He painted spiritual pictures on the canvas of people's hearts with God’s Holy Word. 

 

He even prayed for people as they wept at the altar.  Anointing them with oil and weeping with them as they cried their broken hearts out at the front of the church.  The carpet stained with oil and tears. 

When he got home, he would drink until drunk.  A closet boozer.  Later, in his drunken stupor he would hit his oldest son with a flashlight on his teenage head. 

 

Hypocrite and abuser.  All in the name of the Lord. 

 

Which Lord? 

I believe it was the Lord of the Flys. 

 

If we can’t be real at church with all our bumps, bruises and stitches that life brings at times, then where should we go?  To a mental institution?  To a Doctor of Psychology or a Christian counselor? 

If the Christian counselor is real, praise Jesus.  Just check out his glove box in his car for a flashlight with human hair and blood on it. 

 

Facts are facts. 

Hypocrites lived among Jesus and His disciples. 

They exist today and it is important to be part of the solution, not part of the problem. 

It is like poisoning the water hole with vain words and actions.  It is similar to termites in the temple eating away at the foundation of the church.  We are either bridge builders in the house of God, or bridge burners at church. 

God cries. 

The Holy Ghost is grieved when we hide behind masks and build walls around our hearts with spiritual bricks and mortar. 

 

Some of the worst masks are identified as follows. 

Insecurities, failures, lack of self-worth, anger, rage, loneliness and despair, suicidal thoughts, and the list goes on and on and on. 

Everything that besets human nature to destroy it is a form of a mask. 

We do not want anyone to know our hidden sins or our insecurities.  It is more important to look good than be real. 

 

At some point if we are truly born again and love Jesus, we must take our Christianity and our walk with God seriously.  Time is ticking and it is either a time-bomb waiting to go off, or it is valued by the believer in Jesus. 

 

HE does not want you to hide any longer.  He wants to untie the masks, one at a time, and heal you. 

But you must be willing. 

 

Just like the Lone Ranger who justified his hidden identity to be a successful hero of sorts by hiding behind a mask.  There is no reason to hide for us though.  This is not a black and white television show from the 1950’s any longer.  You can’t turn off the TV and go to bed with the life you are living currently. 

 

If you do not allow Jesus to untie the masks and break down the walls of silence in your heart, you will die.  Not physically.  Not even spiritually if you are breathing. 

 

You will die a slow death in your emotions. 

They will continue to decay over time and trial.  The masks become evident to most around you and me.  They see through your facade.  Those who know you personally, even at church and at home, know what kind of mask you wear daily. 

 

We put them on to hide behind our fears.  We wear them tightly to cinch away the doubts and broken dreams we currently live in. 

The mask is cutting off the blood supply to our spiritual brains because the strings are so tightly bound and filled with the knots of torment, that we wish we could break them in two. 

No strength physically on your part can break the strings.  It must come from a gentle Savior named Jesus who will untie them, one by one, and peel off the mask of manipulation the devil convinced you years ago that “it is okay to hide behind them.” 

 

It is not okay, and it is time to come out from among them and be ye separate sayeth the Lord of Hosts. 

 

Our family's security is threatened by our exhaustive hours we spend away from home chasing the dollar.  Making a living is one thing, but living to make money is a mask all its own.  Our children grow up wondering “who is that masked man (or woman) who comes home every night late and sometimes intoxicated with loneliness not alcohol?” 

Mark 8: 36-37 declares, “What profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world and loses his own soul?  Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?”

 

The masks we sometimes wear or wear all the time; eventually turn us into the very things we hide from.  Our addictions to drugs, alcohol, gambling, pornography, living for the weekend, chasing a dream that is actually a man-made nightmare, is killing us. 

 

I have watched for many years now a family who once loved Jesus.  They lived for the Lord early on and their children loved Jesus too. 

One day the father said to me, “I am tired of church, and I want to see if the grass is greener on the other side.” 

Green grass, or an excuse to stop being accountable to God and your family?  (I thought this as he spoke.) 

 

It has been over 20 years now and I see a successful man and his wife.  Between the two, they make well over $100,000.00 annually. 

“Where is the profit to the man or woman?” 

Has there been an exchange in their soul for money?  Is the grass which is greener turning brown with time?  Does the Almighty Dollar have a stranglehold on your Christianity? 

 

It is not about church attendance as much as it is about living for Jesus. 

 

The grass.  I have cut grass for a living, and I know the nature of healthy grass.  Fertilized, it stays green and thrives.  Cut it weekly, but not too short, and it will become thick and beautiful.  Grass.  Greener grass is not on the other side of life. 

 

Walking away from a person's first love, Jesus, is an abomination to the Lord.  It breaks my heart to see this family in this condition. 

 

This father was a true leader.  He and his wife have children and grandchildren.  The two adult children married non-believers.  They are happy, contented, financially stable, and seem happy.  All is well with this scenario. 

 

From the inside looking out, it is great.  From the outside looking in, I see masks. 

 

I know them.  I have watched them for over 35 years.  I know happiness in the Lord, and I know the counterfeit. 

I can’t speak to their issues as they are too close to me by virtue of many situations that do not allow me to speak to them spiritually. 

I am not a judge, but I have set before a judge when he sentenced me to prison in 1976. 

He was then, a judge and the prescriber of the time I had to do in prison for my 6 (count them) six felonies.  All aggravated and violent. 

I deserved what I got.  He was the judge, jury and executioner of my life and time. 

He was fair and consistent with the laws of Texas at that time. 

 

If I were a judge now, and this family was sitting before me with the green grass stains on their sneakers, I would say this. 

 

“You, Sir were the priest of your home at one time.  You knew better than to ignore God and put Him on a back burner of your life.  You stand before this bench today found guilty of wearing several masks.  You forged them, and you made your wife sew them with strong string-ties. 

Your children are in the courtroom watching this, and they can’t speak for you now as time is running out on your ability to prove to God, you love Him, more than you love your life. Your grandchildren are not here because they deserve better. 

There will be time for you to love God again after you finish the following sentence. 

Number one: I sentence you to life without parole.  Life in church and life working your job until you retire.  Number two:  you will stay faithful to read your Bible and pray daily.  You will worship the Lord your God with all your heart from now on.  And finally, number three. 

I sentence you to death.  Death to your grass addiction.  Death to your chasing the dollar.  Death to your compromising attitude and you will die to self.  Understood, Sir?” 

 

Well, I am not able to be a judge.  Wouldn’t want that job. 

I am not perfect by any means, but I strive to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me Jesus Christ. 

 

To unmask the Lone Ranger who may be reading this, remember something.  There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ.  No guilt or shame either. 

 

Pick yourself up, confess your sin to the Lord Jesus, and get going in a new direction. 

 

The next time you look in a mirror and untie the last mask you wear you will see something. 

That something is Jesus behind you smiling as He is the one and only one who can untie them anyway.  He just did for you.  Turn yourself around from the mirror and give Him the Glory. 

And by the way, “The mask of success that made you buy the designer handbag for your wife, and the leather briefcase you carry are not needed any longer.  You can stop maxing out your credit cards too.  Every mask you used to wear is gone if you continue to let Jesus help you walk the walk. 

 

I have never seen a hearse pulling a U-Haul trailer.  You came into this world with nothing and will certainly leave the same way. 

With one exception. 

If you love Jesus and He lives in your heart, He will be with you when you leave this Earth. 

You will never be the Lone Ranger again. 

That is His promise to you. 

“HI-Y0 JESUS, AWAY.” 

Who was that UN-masked man anyway?   

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Better Late Than Never

Cliches to hold on to, or faith to overcome in the middle of a storm.  I will discuss some old and some new sayings in some Christian circles.  Good intentions do not make things work, and even your faith does not always remove every mountain just because you quote it. 

 

So often, Christians say many cliches such as, “God is never late, never early, but right on time.  Or God knows what is best for you.  When God closes a door, He opens a window.”   

 

This last one suggests that every setback is an opportunity for something better, but sometimes there is no open window at all.  The closed door may be a difficult reality to face. 

 

“Everything happens for a reason.” 

 

While this can be a way of finding meaning in a difficult situation, it can also minimize the pain and suffering that you are experiencing at that moment.  You find out later that the pain is real, long-lasting and seems to never end.  Reality. 

 

“God helps those who help themselves.” 

 

This quote, often attributed to the Bible, is actually a misquote and can imply that people’s suffering is their own fault and that God only helps those who are already doing well. 

 

I like, “Let go and let God.” 

This phrase suggests passivity, and while it can be a reminder to trust in God’s plan, it can also be used to avoid taking responsibility or making difficult decisions. 

But what does the Bible say? 

 

1st Corinthians 10:13, “No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind.  And God is faithful; He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear.  But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out (escape) so that you can endure it.” 

 

This lends to responsibility on the part of the sinner in need of repentance in their temptation.  It also means that He is faithful, and we must trust Him to help us overcome and use the escape routes He provides.  It is HIS lifeline thrown to us from His ship amid the waves of the boiling seas in life.  If we grab hold of it, then we live.  If we do not, then we can suffer the consequences it brings. 

 

Drowning in sin is the only drowning that leaves you with air to breathe.  It makes you sick, yet in the sickness we return to our own vomit out of desires and flesh-driven motives. 

I ought to know. 

“God won’t give you more than you can handle.” 

Really? 

 

Even as a believer in Jesus, we suffer in this life as He promised about the tribulations and trials that will happen to us.  “Be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world.”  Jesus tells the truth about the reality of this life on earth.  He does not candy-coat or justify a sick world full of sin and degradation.  “Repent for the Kingdom of God is at hand.”  Matthew 3:2. 

 

This call to repentance signifies an inward change of heart and mind, a turning away from sin, and turning toward God, with the understanding that God’s reign and kingdom are near or already present through Jesus Christ. 

 

Now understand this.  We should not be an advocate for pain because life gives us all our share and more at times.  I am a believer that there can be purpose in my personal pain, as I have lived my share of horrible disasters from childhood to today. 

I am who I am because of a scripture I have lived through and trusted for 47 years since I gave my heart to Jesus at age 21 while in prison. 

 

2 Timothy 2: 3-4, “You therefore must endure hardship as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.  No one engaged in warfare entangles himself with the affairs of this life, that he may please him who enlisted him as a soldier.” 

 

This passage goes on to tell another truth. 

Knowing we are not crowned in athletics unless we compete according to the rules. 

 

Life has rules, and I was a rule breaker when I was young. 

I did my first burglary at 12, and then it escalated into drug addiction, and armed robbery by age 16.  I had issues, obviously. 

Better late than never is more than a cliche to me. 

 

Moments, literally five seconds before I threw myself over the third tier of the cell block, I lived on, Jesus Christ rescued me and saved my soul some 45 minutes later in the chapel inside this maximum-security prison in Texas. 

The Holy Ghost was revealing His love to me earlier in the wee hours of the morning, but even that was not going to stop me from diving off thirty feet to my demise. 

Jesus arrested me moments before that dive and saved my soul.  Better late than never has significant meaning to me. 

 

Case in point in reference to God and His perfect timing. 

I had been preaching for nine years in a row at a Federal prison in Sheridan, Oregon. 

Every Wednesday evening for nine years.  I only missed a handful of meetings due to being on a mission trip but always had a fellow minister take my place when I was traveling. 

Victor was a Hispanic man who came to the service I conducted for all those nine years. 

His outward appearance had many tattoos all the way up his neck to his ears, and both arms covered in ink.  Mostly Gang affiliation tattoos, signifying his allegiance to the gang. 

 

He sat against the back wall in the Chapel.  He always brought his Bible and notepad.  I watched him periodically and I could see he took notes from the preaching I was doing. 

He never came forward for prayer.  He never shook my hand or made much of an effort to even make eye contact with me.  This went on for nine years, every Wednesday evening. 

 

By all intents and purposes, Victor had the appearance of a Christian.  He would raise his hands during worship with his eyes closed at times.  He would bow his head when I did the altar invitation but never tried to come forward for himself or for anyone else. 

Week in week out.  Year in year out Victor was a faithful attendee to this Chapel service and others that were conducted by other Christian ministries.  He stacked chairs when the events were over and gave a helping hand around the Chapel when needed. 

 

Finally, the day came when I announced that I was moving to Texas from Oregon soon, and the following Wednesday would be my last service after nine years. 

I preached my last message and did the alter invitation. 

 

Out of nowhere and to my surprise, Victor came forward with tears in his eyes.  Alligator tears streaming down his tattooed face with a sincere regretful heart full of pain. 

Victor shared with me after the service that he had never felt conviction from the Lord during all those years I was there preaching.  He stated that he wanted to be saved, but that he wanted God to save him, not a man. 

He went on to share how he never had any remorse or guilt for his crimes until that very evening during the altar invitation. 

“It was like God arrested me, Joe.”  His exact words. 

 

 I can attest to that feeling when Jesus arrested me back in 1977.  Jesus was right-on time.  He was for Victor this evening. 

Victor was getting out of prison soon, and he wrote me a letter. 

 

“Dear Joe, I am being released in a few weeks, and I am going to go to Los Angeles to be a part of Victory Outreach Ministries there.  They have offered me a place to live and work within the ministry.” 

 

He went on to say that what God did for him through the message I preached was like “God was speaking only to me that night.” 

He asked me if I could help him with some clothes so he could look normal when leaving prison. 

My mother-in-law and my wife went with me to buy him some clothes, according to the sizes he mentioned in his letter to me. 

We bought him Stacy Adams shoes, size 10, and grey slacks and a beautiful button up shirt that made his outfit look reasonable and nice. 

My mother-in-law sent this package to the prison (per Victor’s information in my letter) and the return address was a P.O. Box address with no name or any way to trace the package due to security reasons within the prison.  We followed protocol for the safety and security of the prison. 

Everything worked out. 

 

A few weeks passed, and while at work at the church in Portland, I received a call from Victor.  He knew the name of the church and that I was on staff, so he called me. 

 

“Hey Pastor Joe, I am in Portland at the airport getting ready to fly to Los Angeles.  Could you and Pastor Reed come and pray for me?” 

Absolutely I said, and we got into the church van and headed to the airport. 

You should have seen Victor. 

Decked out in his grey slacks and silk shirt with those alligator and snake Stacy Adam shoes.  He was a sight to see.  Looked like a businessman except for a few things that were very noticeable. 

His tattoos were pretty obvious, but it would take an ex-felon like me to identify his ink as gang related.  Well, the Police could too. 

 

Standing in the airport was Victor as we approached him.  He was smiling from ear to ear as we embraced him and prayed for him and his future. 

We looked down as his carry-on luggage, (or lack thereof) and noticed something. 

He was carrying the Federal Prison issue fish-net bag, bright white with all of his personal effects in it. 

This was his convict bag, to put it mildly. 

 

We joked with him for a moment and said, “Let's go to the gift shop Victor.” 

We bought him a nice “Nike” carry-on bag to put his stuff in, and he took the last remaining reminder of prison, his fishnet bag, and threw it into the nearest trash receptacle. 

 

We all laughed and waved goodbye to Victor. 

I stayed in touch with him for a long time, writing back and forth and finding out he is doing well and ministering on the streets of Los Angeles.  Winning souls every evening after work and living the dream. 

 

There is one last cliche I want to mention. 

The world says, “Once an addict, always an addict.  Once a thief, always a thief.  Once a convict, well you know.” 

Jesus Christ showed up “right on time” for Victor and changed his life.  I often wonder something. 

All those Wednesday evenings listening to me preach, taking notes and bowing his head.  Nine years' worth. 

 

Victor looked like a Christian.  He acted like one too. 

But that last service I did he was born again by the power of God. 

It wasn’t “everything happens for a reason, or God helps those who helps themselves.” 

God is not about cliches.  God is about restoration. 

 

I guess I can truly say that there was a cliche that fit Victor that day at the airport. 

“Let go and let God.”  Victor is born again by the Spirit of God.  And he did let go.  He let go of his sin, and rebellion against God Almighty. 

He also let go of one last thing. 

 

His fishnet bag.  The last reminder of a life from prison. 

From prison to a street corner winning souls to Christ.  That is what Jesus does.  He has done that for me for the past 47 years.  He continues to do that for Victor as well. 

 

My last cliche for today is: “God is good all the time.  All the time, God is good.”   

Yes, He is. 

And that is no cliche.  It is better late than never. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

 

Kerrville, Texas Flood Update…

a once beautiful park along side the Guadalupe River devastated 200 year old trees uprooted 

Please pray and help your brothers and sisters. We are all affected.

Kerr County Flood Relief Fund

A Season of Time-Nothing More, Nothing Less

Believers in Christ, me included, have complained about things and have had to repent.

 It is a part of life at times. 

 

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8 declares many truths that we can’t dispute.  

Ecclesiastes 3:15 speaks a truth that I have lived out thus far. 

“That which is, has already been, and what is to be, has already been; and God requires an account of what is past!” 

Again, this is about time. 

 

This Scripture shows the breadth and depth of God’s sovereignty over time and the events of life.  

To picture this more clearly, we must perceive time as a moving reality.  

It is as though it is coming toward us and moving away from us, simultaneously.   

 

Though time is involved in this statement, the emphasis is more on the events that happen within time, rather than time itself.  

We can perhaps understand this verse better by saying that what is happening right now has already happened in the past, and what will happen has already happened.  

It is a way of saying that, in one sense, time cannot be broken into parts.   

 

Time and the events happening within it, of and by themselves, are a whole.  

Thus, Solomon is essentially saying, “past, present, and future are bound together.” 

It sounds like science fiction, but it is not. 

Time.  

I have analyzed it, looked at it, prayed about it and have drawn only one conclusion. 

 

It keeps moving, whether I want it to slow down or speed up, depending on my daily circumstances. 

It was like yesterday that this happened, or “where did all the time go?” 

 

Tick tock- can’t stop God’s clock. 

I love what the Apostle Paul wrote in Philippians 4:11-13 regarding contentment. 

“Not that I speak in regard to need, for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content: I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound.  Everywhere and in all things, I have learned both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.  I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” 

 

Paul pointed out how to be contented with every circumstance in life, whether that be good or bad.  

Shipwrecked, stoned with rocks, beaten with rods and put into prison, speak to God’s resilience and God’s power to work in a man called Paul, no matter the situation. 

He was indeed blinded for three days as Saul the Christian killer. 

He woke up and saw the light! 

Floating in the ocean and almost drowning was not easy for Paul, yet he survived, writing a lot of letters to the church.  

In prison.  

Not a Federal Prison like I have preached in before in Oregon, Arizona and beyond.  

Nice clean clothes, and three-square meals a day.  

Visitations, letters, and some sort of entertainment were and are available in prisons in America.  

Hobby shops and metal working too.  Art supplies for those who are talented.  

Musical instruments for the worship team in church. 

 

Paul could have used the metal works class to fashion a key to unlock his stocks in the inner prison with Silas.  

That was then, and this is now.  

He and Silas did not have guitars, microphones or a backup choir to aid them in their worship.  

They worshipped out of their trust in God, even though they were in tremendous pain. 

Human nature might allow us to complain sometimes, but in Christ, complaining should only be an “every now and then” moment.  

Not a lifestyle.  

 

I also believe that when things happen, like what happened here in Kerr County, Texas on July 4th of 2025, that the Christians here would pray in their pain.  Pray in their grief.  

Pray and believe that God will show up in their season of time. 

 

Since I know personally what it is like to “do time” in prison in 1976, I can honestly say that the only thing worse than doing time, is wasting the time you have. 

 

Time is valuable, like gold and silver.  

It is not to be wasted, squandered, or spent on frivolous things that won’t last.  

I am not talking about going on vacation, or a night out at the movies.  Just make sure your vacation spot is not Las Vegas or watching a movie rated “NFC.”  

Not for Christians. 

 

Time is an asset, not a liability.  

Invest your time wisely as there will surely come a day when you and I will run out of this precious commodity.  

Your hourglass will empty itself of the last grain of sand.  

Your clock and its second hand will cease to move at all. 

Father time will stop and what remains and what will last “eternal” is only what you and I did for Jesus.  

Nothing more, nothing less. 

 

We are the hands, feet and voice for Christ.  

 

Use your hands to bring healing to the hurting.  

Use your feet to run to those who are in despair.  

Speak your voice that Jesus gives you to comfort the downtrodden. 

 

For in God’s time, we have hope.  

In your life is either hope to believe for a closer relationship with Jesus, despite the spiritual “stocks” you are bound in Like Silas and Paul. 

 

Seasons in life come and they go.  Quickly. 

 

Good times, bad times, lonely times, and despairing times.  

Times of grief and times of great joy.  

 

What shall we make of the current season we are in?

 

Romans 14: 12-13,

“So then each of us shall give an account of himself to God.  Therefore, let us not judge one another anymore, but rather resolve this, not to put a stumbling block or a cause to fall in our brother’s way.” 

 

Paul is reminding us that we, alone, are responsible for our words, and our deeds.  

It is the way we conduct our lives.  

But so also are our brothers and sisters in Christ.  

They, too, are responsible for what they say and what they do.  

And what they eat or drink.  

Continue to walk in love, no matter what. 

 

Sometimes, and too often, we can become critical of our fellow Christians at church.  

We know them and their ways of doing things.  

If they do not live up to or conform to our own set standards, or preferred behavior patterns, we tend to silently criticize or judge them.  

 

Instead of looking at other’s flaws, perhaps we should take the plank out of our eye first and then help to remove the toothpick in our brothers and sisters' eyes. 

 

I have been through many seasons in my 69 years of being on this Earth. 

 

In 2010, I left Houston to move to Kerrville, Texas.  

Not by choice, but because of finances. 

I sold our home and left behind a construction company where I was clearing $3,800.00 per month for three years.  This was after all expenses including house payments and everything that is called a life expense.  I saved some money but basically sowed into other ministries and believed God for His abundance for every good work.  I preached as much as I could, considering all my responsibilities in Houston. 

 

That amount of money cleared each month was more than I had ever made in my life, and I left all of that to work at a drug rehab for nine dollars an hour. 

 

I was trying to remember Paul’s words about being contented.

I truly tried but was suffering just like my wife and my two young boys.  The boys did not do without food, but my wife and I did, for their sake. 

 

That is what parents do in the abased times.  

I was brought low and humbled, using the true meaning of the word abased. 

 

I worked there three years and managed to make twelve dollars an hour when I finally left.  I worked again in construction, digging a ditch with a pickaxe and shovel.  

 

I was 58 years old then, and I remember the hot Texas sun in August digging that ditch.  It was a ditch for a sewage treatment plant being built on an Assemblies of God retreat. 

 

I remember sitting on the edge of the ditch with my shovel in hand, shoveling out dirt to prepare the long 100-foot ditch, three feet deep, and two- foot wide.  I could no longer stand and bend over to use the shovel.  

I was beat.  

I then prepared the rebar for the ditch so the concrete truck could pour the wet concrete the next day. 

 

I got a call from my Pastor, who I was working for, and he told me at 6 a.m., that the thunderstorm that went through last night, filled up my ditch with mud. 

I had to go back there, shovel out the wet mud, and remove the 10-foot lengths of heavy rebar steel.  

Pain, and more pain.  Abased. 

 

Eight hours later, as the concrete trucks arrived to do the pour, I had to work overtime and finish the job with the shovel. 

 

Here I am.  From Houston, running a remodeling company from inside a brand-new Toyota Tundra truck with nice jeans and a polo shirt, to a ditch with blisters, sunburns and unmentionable pains in the back. 

 

I made $14.00 per hour doing this work and I was glad to be able to pay for real food for my family. 

 

I learned, without too much griping, how to be contented.  

 

This season lasted three years.  

Carrying 80-pound concrete bags for deck jobs, climbing an extension ladder 15 feet into the air to paint the dormers on a two-story house.  

I love heights. 

Fact: “A curb on the street is too high for me.”   

 

That ladder work took me praying in tongues to survive.  

I only fell off the ladder once to learn my lesson about spatial awareness. 

 

Today, I am living on a ranch, still doing some hard labor.  I do not work for anyone except the owner.  

I work when I want to work.  Preach when I preach, and life is good. 

 

From poverty to provision.  

The only explanation I can give is that I know how to give.  

I gave of my time to volunteer in prisons and preach the Gospel.  I planted money in good ground in people and ministries that I believed in. 

 

I reaped what I sowed.  

 

Those years from 2010 until 2022 were hard.  Very hard.  

Had I been 20 years old, then that work would have kept me in shape. 

Not in my 50’s.  

I am reminded daily to stand up straight Joe.  

Don’t drag your feet.  

“Okay, Honey.” 

The seasons of our life include birth, formative years, adolescence-teenage years, young adult to grown adult years.  Then comes the 50 plus years.  

I call these the twilight years.  Not twilight zone years. 

 

We have dry seasons when God is quiet, and it is harder to hear His Voice.  

 

Then we have the waiting season, being patient for Him to move in our lives.  

God leverages waiting seasons for His Glory like He did with Joseph when Joseph was sold into slavery by his brothers.  

That trial for Joseph worked out in the end.  

Favor coupled with forgiveness that Joseph had for his brothers. 

 

The grinding seasons are the hard-working times and the busy times of work, play, and raising a family.  

Don’t forget Church. 

 

Test and trials seasons.  They speak for themselves. 

 

Spiritual Warfare seasons.  It takes time to discern which is a spiritual attack and which is just bad pizza not digesting well.  

You catch my drift?  

 

Not every trial is from the devil.  If that were the case, then what you bound on earth which was supposed to be bound in Heaven did not work.  

Figure that one out and let me know your results. 

 

I wrote the following poem many years ago.  The first draft was from when I wrote it on scrap paper while in prison in 1976-1977.  I was saved by Jesus when I wrote: 

“From Your Embrace”

 

Tick, tock, your pendulum swings.  No time for games, and no church bells ring.

Our hourglass sand is me and is you.  Each grain that falls can be brand new.

We have some time to get things right; to fix what’s broken within our sight.

The way we were does not define; who we are right now, because of time.

 

Jesus said, “You need eyes to see.”  With His Father’s time; “What will you be?”

Are we lost in sin and wasting time?  This must be worth much more than rhymes.

We say: “I wanted to Lord, I was going to get saved.”  But there’s no more time for your banner to wave.

 

Empty promises and broken dreams; have stolen your time, and now you can’t scream.

“What shall I do as my pendulum swings?”  I want to hear those church bells ring!

Receive His mercy before it’s too late, as eternity holds our future fates.

As these sands of time will stop one day; The clock will quit, as I hope to pray:

“Forgive me Lord for wasting YOUR time.  I know today I’ve committed crimes.

Find me “not guilty” as I seek Your face.  I’ll receive forgiveness, from Your embrace.

 

We are all just one heartbeat away from eternity. 

It is a season of time that this life offers.  

No more. No less.  

How much time do you and I have?

Can you feel your heartbeat?

 

“Thump, thump, thump.”  Thump...thump.................? 

 

 Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Starving to Death (Once and For All)

The literal interpretation of the title of this message is one of global hunger, poverty, and the importance of addressing these problems. 

The disparity between those who have access to food and those who do not emphasizes the need for compassion and actions to alleviate this kind of suffering.  

But what about spiritual starvation which can lead to another type of death?

No one wants to starve to death physically. 

But it is possible to die spiritually if our life without feeding our spirit becomes starved due to neglect. 

 

The empty calories, such as worldly pleasures and distractions that offer temporary satisfaction to our flesh, ultimately leave us spiritually malnourished. 

 

Matthew 5:6 speaks of hungering and thirsting for righteousness.   

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled.”

 

This is cited specifically to emphasize the importance of seeking God’s Will and aligning one’s life with His Purpose. 

It is obvious that dwelling on our past issues of life brings with it a type of starvation too. 

 

What good does remembering, reliving, or focusing on past hurts, sins, and situations that we can absolutely do nothing about today?   

 

It is a form of self-starvation like a person in prison who forces themselves to go on a hunger strike for various penal institution flaws they deem unfair or inhuman. 

 

“Cruel and unusual punishment” was the term used in the Texas prison I was in during 1976. 

Forced to work in a cotton field for eight hours a day in the hot September sun was cruel, but not unusual because Texas demanded we work, or we would not eat! 

 

This saying about not working was part of the Boss Man and his speech given to me when I arrived on my first day in a Maximum-Security Unit of the Texas Department of Corrections.  We were corrected daily by being bent over, picking cotton, and dragging that full sack of cotton along our sides. 

 

All this “hunger striking” does is cause that person to die prematurely and this form of starvation accomplishes only one thing. 

 

Starving to death. 

 

I call it a type of intentional Anorexic and Bulimic spiritual suicide. 

The difference between worldly desires (cravings) and the genuine need for feeding our souls is a fine line. 

 

We live in this world, but we are truly not of this world.  

If we know Jesus as our Savior and Lord, then this is the only way we can declare that we are NOT of this world.  This planet is not our final resting place if we are born again. 

A Heaven to gain, and a hell to avoid. 

 

Again, our choice. 

Our free-will choice given to us by God. 

 

“For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul?  Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?”

Mark 8:36

 

This pawning away of our life by neglecting our spiritual growth and health is like pawning a precious ring for a small loan. 

Never intending to pay the fee and get it back. 

We say we will only do this temporarily but find out later that the due date came and went. 

We lost the ring and can never get it back. 

Explain that to your spouse about where the diamond ring went.   

 

Another form of starvation is trying to replace spiritual food with spiritual garbage. 

We can’t exchange time with Jesus and His Word, by never reading our Bible. 

 

We are losing spiritual weight and are looking gaunt in our spirits. 

A skeletal example of a dying Christian. 

Bones showing where bones should not show. 

 

Symptoms of Spiritual Starvation: 

A spiritually starving individual may experience a sense of emptiness, lack of purpose, and a general feeling of dissatisfaction.   

 

Weakening of Faith:  

Without regular spiritual nourishment, faith can weaken, making individuals more susceptible to doubt and temptation. 

Indifference to Spiritual Matters:  

A spiritually starved person may become indifferent to spiritual practices and the needs of others. 

It is like selfishness on their weak spirits that become critical in the starvation of their souls.  Their minds, intellect, and all their emotions are skewed and off kilter, leaving them lonely and in despair. 

Forgetting temporarily that Jesus is there and He wants to feed them, so they do not perish. 

 

Focus on worldly pleasures: 

Instead of seeking fulfillment in God, some people may turn to worldly distractions and fleeting pleasures which scripturally means that, “We become an enemy of God.”  James 4:4. 

 

The answers are simple when it comes to avoiding this spiritual death. 

 

Before I give you the answers, I will share with you how I came out of starvation into spiritual health. 

I had to have another wake up call to stop dying. 

I was far away from God and His will for my life, and it was apparent to me that what I was doing was not working. 

In fact, I was dying and did not know I was. 

 

The before- mentioned symptoms were evident, but I was so far gone I could not see with any spiritual vision. 

I was in church, but was deaf, dumb, and blind to all I was seeing and hearing from the pulpit. 

 

Closed off and living in sin, at least I was in church. 

I was not in addiction, but my doubt and unbelief were my sins of choice. 

No one could see my outward acts of sin, yet one look at my sad face, said it all. 

A man’s countenance tells everything going on in his heart, to a degree. 

 

 Church did not save me and nurture me back to spiritual health, because I was not wanting to live for Jesus anymore. 

Bummed out was an understatement for me in 1994. 

Nothing worse than a depressed Christian. 

This, in my opinion, is an oxymoron. 

 

 Like the deafening silence I lived in would not allow me to hear what the Spirit of God was saying to me. 

I was no longer an open secret, but a wide-open target for the enemy of my soul, Satan. 

I was in a living dead state in my spirit.  I was alive physically, but dead inside spiritually. 

Not only did all the above oxymorons exist, but one last one that I call, “Cruel to be kind.” 

 

I was harsh, trying to be kind. 

I never smiled and lived in my own self-inflicted pity party. 

 

No cake with candles, or streamers and horns to toot. 

 

I was a pathetic Christian living in the world that I created by being away from my Savior Jesus.  I refused to answer my door to my apartment when people came to see me. 

 

It was like this, “The only hope I had was no hope at all.  By holding on to such a broken life, and all the pain of my past, I felt like, that if I let it go, I would have nothing.  Something bad, to me, was better to hold on to than nothing at all.” 

 

I left Oregon and drove South, headed to a job near the Grand Canyon. 

I recorded my thoughts on a tape recorder as I drove all the way through Grants Pass and Medford in Oregon. 

 

As I look back on those tapes that I sent to my future bride, it was a miracle she did not offer a pill from a doctor for my depression. 

 

One of my thoughts on tape while on Interstate 5, going Southbound was, “I see the mountains off in the distance from the highway.  They are tall and wide with snow on the peaks.  The mountains of despair in my heart do not compare to the majestic beauty I see with my blue eyes.  My eyes are red too; from all the tears I cry as I record my despair.” 

YUK.  I can’t believe I spoke that on a cassette tape and sent it to this happy, young, future bride. 

I could have messed up my future completely. 

 

Only by God and His Grace, did I survive this era. 

He rescued me and gave me the hope I needed to stop starving to death. 

I was so parched and defeated that it did take His intervention to rescue me again. 

 

He is in the business of second chances. 

 

The permanent cure for spiritual death is as follows: 

Acceptance of a Savior:  

Many religions, particularly Christianity, emphasize the role of a Savior Jesus in overcoming spiritual death. 

This involves faith in the Lord and His Sacrifice for Mankind. 

This is the Gift of Salvation. 

Christianity is not a religion, after all.  It is a relationship with the only Living God. 

Jesus the Christ. 

Repentance:  

The turning away from our sin and rebellion against God, only works if we have a sorrowful heart and are sincere in our running away from this rebellion. 

This crucial step begins with us consuming the food we need to live again, and the quicker we are to repent, the faster the food comes. 

We get nurtured back to spiritual health every day we seek forgiveness and seek the joy of the Lord. 

It will come once we stop living in the past of the guilt, shame, and condemnation that came in our sins. 

Obedience to His Word: 

This is not an option but a command. 

 

“Be ye doers of the Word, not hearers only.” 

 

Meaning, if you hear the Word of God being preached and apply what you heard, then the fruit of righteousness will be there. 

It is more important to read the Word ourselves in our private devotional time. 

Not just read to read.  Digest and apply what we read daily. 

You can’t live by bread alone, but by every Word that proceeds out of the mouth of God. 

 

 

His Word works. 

 

If you do not discipline yourself to practicing fundamentals, then the starving process begins again in our neglect. 

Prayer, reading the Bible, worship, attending church, and having friends who love Jesus are all the practical things we must practice. 

 

Living in Love and Obedience: 

Simply put: Love everyone and not just saying, “I love you,” but showing you love them by spending time and making an effort to develop a relationship with them. 

Visiting prisoners in prisons, the needy, the nursing home residents, and beyond is a sacrifice of service. 

Serve one another daily. 

Find ways to help the helpless. 

All the practical things spoken about today are not news to those who love Jesus. 

If you are doing your best, then let the best of Jesus shine through you. 

 

“For this son of mine who was once dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.”

Luke 15:24

 

The prodigal was not physically dead, but spiritually dying when, in wild living, he was far away from his father. 

For him to become alive again shows he was not spiritually dead, but only dying.  It was his act of repentance which brought the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation he needed by the Father breathing new life into his dying soul. 

 

If you are still breathing air today there is heavy hope for you. 

 

We are not “starving to death” if we will only wake up and eat of the bread of life. 

Drink from the wells of Salvation and have your spiritual thirst quenched. 

We are in a dry and weary desert when we are dying spiritually. 

Jesus is the oasis amidst our dry land in our heart. 

 

Look to Him, He is the Author and Finisher of your faith. 

 

Even in the worst state of a dry desert, a flower will bloom with only one drop of rain.  It only takes one drop of the Blood of Jesus to redeem you from your dying state in life. 

You are a diamond in His eyes, and a song in His heart. 

He will restore every facet of your dry, dull, and parched life if you will let Him. 

 

You shall live and not die to the Glory of God. 

“I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord.”  Psalm 118:17. 

 

Die to self and live for Jesus. 

Live for Jesus and let the dead things be buried, once and for all. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Two Different Kinds of Grandpas

For those who know me, and those who are part of my family, I am telling this story, only to reveal the power and grace of God. 

My memory, since May 15, 2025, has come back to me from the Lord Jesus.  I have not remembered any of the last 15 blogs I have written, until my memory was restored. 

It is not because I have buried all these stories and need healing.  It is because I believe that some readers need to be encouraged through all the true stories I have written.  

 

This story, like many from my past, has a disclaimer attached to it.  It is very graphic, and I encourage you to try and remember that I am not the same person I was back in the era of all my insanity. 

Jesus Christ has healed me, set me free, and saved my past, wretched soul. 

 

Thanks be to Him and He receives all the Glory for anything I do or write. 

 

On to the Grandpas. 

Grandpa Number One.   

 

This grandpa was my mother’s dad, and I only knew him for a short time in my young life. 

When I was a little boy, during the era of 1963 through 1967, we visited my grandpa who lived in Hamilton, Texas. 

We lived in Dallas.  It was only a two-hour drive to see him on the weekend. 

 

Grandpa was married to my other Grandmother.  Apparently, he had divorced my maternal Grandmother back in the 1950’s. 

This Grandpa was loving, kind and was a good disciplinary Grandpa.  I deserved some of his light spankings at age 7, and I respected him later before he died. 

He died a horrible death.  Lung cancer killed him in 1967 when I was 11 years old. 

 

My memories of him when I was younger, included him taking me outside and sitting me upon the fence railing, and getting to pet the horses that lived next door.  I do not know and never found out about his spiritual life.  I was never told by anyone, to this day, if he was a Christian, but I can tell you, up front, that he loved me and was kind and tenderhearted. 

He told stories about his time in the military, and the stories he had as a diner owner. 

Soft spoken and full of “Good Grandpa” love for his grandson Joe.

 

His diner was in Hamilton, Texas complete with the round, red barstools, and the unique high back booths.  A classic diner with him and my grandmother wearing all white, and a paper hat that was white, too. 

He was the cook, bottle washer, and did all the dishes. 

 

My grandmother waited tables and did all the money transactions. 

Life was good with this grandpa, as I loved him dearly. 

I missed him when he died, and visiting my grandmother, the widow, was hard as time went on. 

Grandma Viola died in 1996 at the age of 93. 

She was a believer in Jesus, as I led her to the Lord about two years before she went home to be with Jesus. 

I visited her in 1994 when I lived a short time in Texas, as the Lord had healed my broken heart prior to visiting her. 

 

The Bible declares, “Plant the good seeds of righteousness, and you will harvest a crop of My love.  Plow up the hard ground of your hearts, for now is the time to seek the Lord, that He may come and shower righteousness upon you.”  Hosea 10:12. 

 

I continue to hold a special place in my heart for her, knowing she was saved.  

Only God knows the outcome of my “Good Grandpa.” 

Only God has the Power in the truth about every human being, including Grandpa Arnold. 

 

Prayer for family will reveal all the ground that was plowed up for the sake of the Gospel.  We should never stop praying for our families, no matter if we know, or do not know the spiritual state they are in. 

 

On to the Bad Grandpa. 

I mentioned that my maternal grandmother had remarried in early 1960, and I never really knew her husband Tommy.  I saw him on occasion, but I was too young to understand much from four years when I first remember him. 

He was a big man. 

Around six foot three and weighed at least 300 pounds. 

 

The next part of this story is graphic and sad at the same time. 

 

When I was about 8 years old, I was at a drive-in movie with my brother, and two family members who are young girls.   

 One was about the same age as the other and they were inseparable.  They always played with Barbies, and every time we visited that family, these two little girls always spent time playing. 

 

The movie that night was the original “Pinocchio” and my brother and I were in the back seat of Tommy’s huge Oldsmobile. 

(I will not refer to him as Grandpa anymore because he does not qualify for that title.) 

 

Tommy was in the driver's seat with the two girls next to him. 

I did not know much about what happened that night until I saw two detectives show up at our house in Dallas about a week later.  They were investigating that night at the drive-in movie. 

It was apparent that Tommy had done the unspeakable to the two girls. 

I remember seeing the plain-clothes detectives wearing their badges on their belts. 

Visible and shiny. 

I am 8.  I do not remember much except there was an arrest, but no conviction. 

I found out later in life what had happened. 

He got away with his perverted acts upon these two 8-year-old girls. 

 

Fast forward. 

It is 1974. 

My daddy was murdered in November of this year.  I was a drug addict, and violent young 18-year-old. 

Out of control, and angry at the world. 

We buried my dad around November 19th and two weeks later, Tommy was in the hospital. 

 

He, being a big man, and a heavy smoker, was having fluid drained off his lungs because of the lung cancer that was killing him. 

He survived this ordeal and was back at work a few days later. 

I had heard about his illness and was so crazy- addicted that I decided to confront him while he was at work. 

He was the manager of Yellow Cab company in this Texas city, and I purposed to find him. 

 

I got off work and drove to his office about two miles from where I worked at a printing ink company. 

I had a .45 Automatic Pistol and was willing to use it on him.   

 

Please understand as you read on. 

I was a criminal, addict and violent in every way. 

 

Like a time-bomb waiting to go off, I had already done four armed robberies. 

I was not afraid to pull a pistol on anyone. 

 

My intentions were to find out “if” he had done that dirty deed to those two girls some 10 years earlier.  I wanted the truth.  He was never convicted, so all I wanted was to know what happened. 

 

I walked into his office. 

I could tell he was weak from the hospital visit earlier, but I did not care.  He was shocked to see me.  He was at my daddy's funeral a couple of weeks ago, but I did not remember him that horrible day we buried my daddy. 

 

 Today’s date is December 3, 1974. 

The time was four o'clock in the afternoon. 

 

I sat down in a chair directly across from him and did not give him an opportunity to speak.  I said to Tommy, “Did you or did you not hurt those two girls?  If you do not tell me the truth, I am going to shoot you to death.  Do you understand, Tommy?” 

 

 

He hesitated and stammered his words. 

I became impatient, so I pulled out my gun and pointed it at his head. 

I thought he was going to pass out from fear.  He knew I meant business by pulling out a gun and pointing it at his head.  I was less than three feet from him. 

 

He turned completely white as the blood rushed out of his face, and he was shaking. 

 

“Did you?”  I repeated my demand. 

“Yes, Grandson, I did it.” 

I screamed at him, “Do not call me ‘Grandson,’ you are a pervert, and I should kill you anyway!” 

 He shut his eyes, thinking he was going to die. 

 

I got up and walked slowly away.  I left him to decide his own fate.  He did not know if I was going to go to the police with this confession. 

Two days later, I was told by my family that Tommy went back to the hospital to have more fluid drained off his cancerous lungs.  The stress and the procedure were too much for him, and he died from a heart attack. 

 

My family from California and beyond were still in town because of my Daddy’s funeral.  They had not returned home yet. 

Now, they have another funeral to go to. 

 

I refused to go to the funeral and continued shooting Dope and doing robberies. 

 

I tell you this story, because I had thought for years that it was because I stressed him out so much when I pulled that gun on him, that he died because of me and the trauma I put on him that day in his office. 

 

I never told the family about his confession.  I do not believe they would understand back then or understand today.  It is a well-kept secret that I keep in my heart to this day.  It does not have any relevance to his demise, yet he did reap what he sowed. 

 

If he was telling the truth that day in his office, (and I believe he was telling me the truth), then I know I put him under distress for sure. 

I had no business doing what I did, and once I got saved in prison in 1977, it was one of the moments in time during my repentance that I spoke to Jesus about. 

I needed forgiveness for much more than Tommy. 

I hurt many people in my younger life, and I tell this story for a purpose. 

 

I talked in a previous story called the “Domino Effect.” 

Once the dominoes fall, they will do what they do, and we can’t stop them.  A good decision reaps good things. 

A bad one, consequences we may or may not want to deal with. 

 

I reaped what I sowed when I was an addict. 

I reaped prison.  Hepatitis C disease.  Asthma and many other issues mentally, physically and spiritually. 

 

It is eternal law. 

Whether we are saved or unsaved, we reap what we sow. 

 

On to reaping goodness. 

We will always reap what we plant. 

God has designed us to be accountable, which is a necessary element of healthy living. 

 

Those of us who live only to satisfy their own sinful desires will harvest the consequences of decay and death.  

 

But those of us who live to please the Spirit will harvest everlasting life from the Spirit.  Galatians 6: 7-8.  

 

Even after we have been forgiven, we must deal with the fallout and damage from our actions in our sins. 

It may take time to finish harvesting the negative consequences from our past. 

You and I have a past. 

Your past, I pray, was not as crazy as mine. 

 

But sin is sin, so it all must get under the Blood of Jesus. 

 

Do not let your past discourage you. 

 

We all have memories of what “not to do” that we did to reap a harvest of weeds in our lives. 

The key is to leave it under the Blood of Jesus and not dig it up.  It is forgotten by God as far as the East is from the West. 

It is remembered NO more by the Most High. 

 

True repentance brings memory loss from God about our sin. 

 

Not all people are willing and able to accept our apologies or even willing to be forgiven.  It is a two-way street.  The hope is that we try to make amends with those we hurt. 

 

I would have loved to apologize to Tommy about my ignorance, violent streak, and hatred for mankind.  My addiction took me to a place, and the demons kept me in this place of no return.  I needed to go to prison to be set free from my past. 

I needed the walls and bars to keep me isolated from hurting anyone else in my path.   

 

Jesus saved me and gave me His Love to give away instead of hatred for every person I encountered back in 1974. 

I was saved in prison in 1977, and I have never been the same. 

 

Tommy was a sinner.  I realize that now and did once I got saved.  He was like me, a sinner in need of a Savior.  I just hope he had a chance to cry out to God in his hospital bed. 

There were two different Grandpas in my young life. 

Back then, one was good, the other bad. 

 

The reality is, we have all sinned and fallen short of God’s Glory. 

It is not about being good or bad. 

It is about being forgiven. 

Forgiven by the Only One who can forgive sin. 

Jesus. 

 

Peter came to Jesus and said, “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him?  Up to seven times?” 

Jesus answered and said to him, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.” 

That would be, mathematically, 490 times. 

 

If you truly forgive someone, you won’t keep track or keep count anyway.  The hope is that forgiveness becomes a daily lifestyle.

 

We are living a life.  We do things that become idols at times. 

 

There is one more thought that I will leave you with today. 

The thing you and I love the most, we spend the most time doing. 

Can’t get past that one. 

 

Spend time with Jesus.  He is a good God. 

Like the way I thought back then which was wrong.  I thought I had a good Grandpa, and a bad one. 

But I had two Grandpas. 

 

Had I known Christ when I was 18, I would not have pulled out a gun and pointed at Tommy. 

Instead, I would have pulled out a Bible and prayerfully led him to Jesus. 

 

I pray for men in prison many times who are in their late 70’s. 

I am approaching 70 now. 

Next March I will hit that lovely number. 

 

I watch, especially last Father’s Day, while preaching in prison. 

So many men, fathers, and grandfathers live in guilt and shame for being in prison. 

In my eyes, and I know in Jesus’ eyes, they all can become “Good Grandpas.” 

 

Not two different kinds of Grandpas. 

Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins

Restoration Prison Ministry: July2025 Newsletter

July-2025

Dear Ministry Partners,     

                                                                                                           

As much as I want to talk about the ministry, I must reflect and honor all those who have sacrificed everything to help this flood-ravaged area called Kerr County.  

I live 15 minutes from the Guadelupe River that came out of its banks, cresting over 30 feet above normal. 

 

 

 

I have witnessed, firsthand, the destruction with my own eyes, and the only way I can describe what I have seen from bridges and beyond, is that it looks like an atomic bomb went off. 

 

Most everyone who reads this letter already knows about the devastation of Central Texas. I will not repeat what you have seen on the national news. 

 

Driving through Kerrville today, there are still many rescue and recovery helicopters flying low to the riverbanks.  Many recovery boats, cadaver dogs, men and women on horseback, and all the forestry department workers, sheriff departments, and all nationwide authorities giving helping hands, are here.  

Staged at the local high school, TIVY Highschool, I also see the Red Cross, Samaritan's Purse, Franklin Graham’s Ministry, and so many more, offering help in every way possible to the families and friends who suffer with the catastrophic losses of life that directly affect them.

 

It may take years to recover the riverbanks that lost almost every huge tree, and anything and everything in flood waters’ monstrous path.  

It may take a lifetime for those who grieve to even comprehend this loss.  

 

It will stay with me forever.  

I travel through Kerrville daily for work and errands, and it will never be the same in my heart. 

Motorhomes, fifth-wheel trailers, cars and tents, all gone from their spaces overlooking the once serene river in the middle of the early morning hours of July Fourth.   The 30-foot rise in the water, that rose that far in 45 minutes, killing over 119 people (to date), and over 160 still missing, that the officials know of.

Washed them away with people inside.  

 

I honor all who are here, locally and around this nation who love, with the love of our Lord Jesus. 

All the FEMA people along with County, State and local officials, all doing what they can to aid in this recovery attempt.  

Not to mention the hundreds, if not thousands of volunteers who have arrived to help. 

 

I honor all of them, and say, “Lord Jesus thank YOU and continue to help all those who suffer greatly.”  

They are still trying to find more victims.  

Yes, victims.  

It has been six days since this July Fourth disaster.  I saw on the local news that a 9-month-old baby was found among the dead this morning. 

 

I can’t put it into words, nor can anyone who lives here understand why this happened. 

 

It would be detrimental to quote scriptures, though I could, and it would be disrespectful to those who suffer to say anything except “pray” for them. 

We are, and many of the people I know personally here, in the Kerr County area are praying for peace during this storm. 

Though campsites can be rebuilt, and trees planted, and homes replaced perhaps, nothing will replace the joys of life, now replaced with sorrows and pains of those who have lost the ones they love.  

Many vacancies in the homes and hearts of those who only have memories now. 

 

The only scripture reference I can quote is Psalm 147: 3, “I have come to heal the brokenhearted, and bind up their wounds.” 

“Lord, please, in the Mighty Name of Jesus, heal, restore and revive those who hurt today.  In Jesus Name, Amen.”

 

Prison Ministry

 

Sunday, July 6th, I ministered in Hondo, Texas, 55 miles from home at the Joe Ney Unit of the Texas Prison System.  There were around 30 men in attendance, and I did a belated “Father’s Day” message that the Lord had on my heart for this Sunday morning. 

Several men received Christ as their Savior, and many hearts of men who had been living in regrets regarding their children, cried bitter tears, and then the joy of the Lord fell.  

I saw with eyes filled with my own tears, the healing mercy shown to men who are locked up away from society. 

The Lord Jesus has compassion on those who suffer, and I had a chance to pray for all those who wanted prayer. 

Coming Events

I will be in Oregon on August 5th through the 11th.    

I will conduct two services in the church in Vancouver, Washington called Lifehouse Fellowship.  

Wednesday August 6th from 7 pm until the Lord is done, and then, again, on the next Sunday morning August 10th at 10 a.m. until noon. 

 

I expect many souls to come to Christ and will tag-team the preaching in both services with my youngest son, Levi.  

We are excited to see what the Lord Jesus will do. 

On Friday, the 8th of August, I will be in the Oregon State Correctional Institution in Salem, Oregon for a 7 p.m. service until around 9 p.m.  

 

I have been ministering in this prison for some 33 years now, and it is always a blessing to see men who I have known personally for all those years.  

 

Please pray for souls, and for the ministry to provide more Bibles for Oregon on this trip coming soon.  

If I can purchase 25 more Study Bibles, I will have them shipped directly to the Chaplain at that prison. 

September and December Outreaches at Ferguson

 

At the Ferguson Unit Prison in Midway, Texas, on September 7th I will conduct two services in the main unit of this notorious prison.  One at 8 a.m. and the other at 6 p.m.  

Between these services, I will go next door and do a service at the Trustee Camp as well.   

This schedule is the same as December’s date too, which is December 7, 2025. 

Keep in mind that I am endeavoring to purchase 2300 bars of Palmolive Soap again and 2300 Christmas Cards to give to the men.  The soap will be for September’s outreach, and the Christmas Cards are for the December outreach. 

 

Please pray and help me, as always, to be diligent in doing what God has called me to.  Your support financially and prayerfully is what makes this ministry so fruitful, and you get to be a part of a great soul-winning effort. 

The on-going Bible drive for the Ferguson Unit is still happening as this prison produces a lot of souls when I come, and we are hoping to provide more Study Bibles for this prison.  

The need is great, but God will make a way for the men to receive their first Bible for so many who have never known Jesus.   

 

My son, Levi and his friend Adam, who were with me on Father’s Day, are coming with me again for both the September and December events.  Their lives have changed too, when they are used of the Lord to minister to the men who have broken hearts.  

They both show a tremendous zeal, ministering both in music, and the preaching of His Word. 

 

As always, thank you partners in advance of the Oregon trip, and the Ferguson Unit revival meetings upcoming. 

Sincerely,

Evangelist Joe Wilkins, Son Levi, and Adam 

https://www.anewthingsee.com/