The Tenth Leper
“Were there not ten cleansed? Where are the nine?” Luke 17:12
Me in OPH Prison wearing my Sunday Best.
Incredulity is not an admired art, but when the gallery has been burned to the ground and hot cinders remain, then we become at worst, The Incomplete Skeptic.
When a prisoner enters the Minnesota prison system, depending on some variables (felony level, age, criminal history, etc.), an Orientation process takes place in a maximum, medium, or minimum-security setting. During the orientation process, prison staff determines which correctional facility will ultimately house any given inmate. My orientation took place in 1986 at MCF-Stillwater (maximum security). I was deemed too high a security risk to remain in MCF-Stillwater, so I was transferred to the Minnesota Correctional Facility at Oak Park Heights (OPH), a Category Five maximum security institution.
While I was incarcerated in OPH, I became acquainted with an inmate that everyone was quite sure had ‘flipped his wig.' I will call him, “Pat.” Pat was going around the penitentiary trying to “heal” men from their various afflictions. In a none-too-calm voice, like a religious V-8 commercial, Pat would try to slap his right hand on people’s foreheads and loudly proclaim, “Be healed, in the name of Jesus Christ!”
My being a Christian, albeit a ‘superior’ one, I did everything I could to (condescendingly)“be patient” with this guy, and that was because I judged Pat’s intentions were probably good, and that he was, after all, needing a little compassion and maybe even a little pity. Know the truth; I was the one in need of his patience and compassion. I did not want to try to prohibit anyone’s freedom of using Christ’s name because it was a religious right to free speech. I believed I was merely in the presence of another nutcase, so I dismissed his ostensible tirades as perhaps a puzzling form of psychosis. When Pat would ‘act out, “prisoners would just look at each other with that secret knowledge smile that says “I’m better than him,” and say in private, “He is just an idiot.” Many of us thought his antics were amusing. But truly, there was something I sensed about Pat that was beyond the good intentions that drew me to him. He had a spirit of purity and innocence about him. Now I think it was the Holy Ghost working in his life.
One early morning I walked into Pat’s cell. There were several other guys in his cell at the time. They were discussing scripture, but they changed the topic when I came into the cell. We started chewing the fat over something or other when I mentioned that my lungs were sorely vexing me. I smoked so much, and for so long that my lungs were in serious trouble. I was a hardcore roll-your-own tobacco addict. I more than once rolled cigarettes by using pages from the Bible. I mentioned to Pat that I could hardly walk upstairs anymore without labored breathing and that I was experiencing real difficulty breathing, especially when I would awaken in the mornings.
Pat’s eyes widened and locked on mine. I realized with horror the mistake of drawing his attention to my health issue because now the fanatical ‘Jesus Freak’ was going to want to “heal” me. Sure enough, Pat had that innocently excited and slightly crazed look in his eyes that scared me. He leaned forward with a huge smile and said, “Do you want me to heal you?!” I said, “No, no, no, no, no, that’s all right.”
Despite my earnest protestations, he continued reaching forward, extending his index finger toward my chest, and said those “fanatical” words, “Be healed in the name of…” I had been backing away as quickly as I could, saying “No! (expletive) No! No! That’s all right, Pat!” but Pat just kept reaching for me and speaking. I ran out of ‘room to escape’ as my back pressed against the wall behind me. At that point, the tip of Pat’s index finger touched the center of my chest, and he finished saying, “…Jesus Christ!” As if my lungs possessed both nerves and eyes, I instantly felt and saw inside of my lungs a white-light divine-electricity shooting through me! My damaged lungs were, in a holy instant, healed! I was a witness to a modern-day miracle. I was stunned! All I could do is just stare at Pat.
Pat said, “Did anything happen?” I do not remember saying anything in response, but I might have said ‘No,' but I think I remained silent. While I did not deny the healing, I omitted that he healed me. This omitting of the truth I regret to this day. Every time I think of it, I ask God to forgive me.
Pat transferred to Stillwater prison a short time after my healing. I determined that if I ever saw him again, I would share the truth about my healing. I transferred to Stillwater a year or so later. I asked around to find out where Pat was celled. I then went to his cell; I told him that my lungs had been healed that day. Pat gave me an angry look, and this time, it was he who said nothing. I sensed that he did not believe me. He had taken so much grief from people in prison and seemed so beaten down emotionally for it, that he appeared to have lost his faith. I felt guilty and sad, but I did not know how to repent ‘better’ of having not supported him when he needed it.
Indeed, I am remorseful for not telling Pat about the miracle of God working through him. He did it in the name of Jesus Christ, and I did not give credit where credit was due. It reminds me of the story in the Holy Bible where Christ healed ten lepers, but only one leper came back to give thanks and praise to Jesus for healing him. Yes, I silently thanked God for the healing, but I kept silent with men. Today, I feel like I am the Tenth Leper. I am returning to give thanks to and for this testimony, and that is why I named part of this book, “(and other stories from the Tenth Leper”).
“No man, when he hath lighted a candle, putteth it in a secret place, neither under a bushel, but on a candlestick, that they which come in may see the light.” Luke 11:33 KJV
My P.O. Dewey Miller and ‘you know who’ standing by the prison sign after I sobered up.
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