The Bread That Sustains

I sought small ways to help others or add some joy to their lives—like sharing guacamole-topped sandwiches at lunchtime or ham, cheese, and beef quesadillas at breakfast. Playing chess while eating likewise seemed to enhance the momentary escape from our hellish environment. My chess record stood at 1,427 victories, 127 losses, and 30 draws.

Miami had the same idea about spreading a little joy in terrestrial hell. Some from the 118A contingent, like Alejandro, pitched in and helped, fixing the broken back of elderly Delfín’s wheelchair that day, and daily washing the clothes of the disabled machucados in 118A.

Nevertheless, joy was not the only thing being doled out. I reminded Cristián, who had still not read his assigned Bible verses since he “did not like to read,” of the danger he faced of landing in eternal hell. I also lectured Michael on the fiery return of Christ and even hotter hell that the coached witnesses who had lied in my trial would face, citing 2 Thessalonians 1:5-9: “Seeing it is a righteous thing with God to recompense tribulation to them that trouble you...in flaming fire taking vengeance on them that know not God, and that obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ.” They and their pals might be amused by what they got away with in court, but neither God nor I nor my family and friends were amused. Remarkably, it was more than a little ironic that I would be in a terrestrial hell preaching to the afflicted about eternal hell.

But perhaps it was not ironic at all. Perhaps this is precisely what Isaiah meant. The bread of adversity—bitter, dry, difficult to swallow—is still the Lord’s bread, given by His hand for His purposes. And the water of affliction, though it burns going down, keeps the soul alive for instruction. I could not remove myself from that prison. I could not remove the innocent from among the guilty or the suffering from among the predators. But I could, by God’s grace, keep my eyes open for the teachers He had not removed into a corner—teachers who appeared in the form of a scarred inmate showing me his wounds, a wife counseling me against the trap of extortion, a friend washing my laundry, and a sovereign God who rearranges cellmates in answer to prayer.

I had to put things into perspective. I may have had no sheets, but I did not have any more bedbugs or wastewater dripping on my head either. I did not have Covid-19 or pneumonia anymore, even though my tooth hurt a little. I did not have to live with the idiosyncrasies of Rufo, Mauricio, or Manuel either. Things could have been, and indeed had been, worse. At least I was not in módulo 111, unlike Guillermo. Moreover, encomienda was coming the next day, and I might even get to see Pamela in three weeks, so long as the government did not declare the area to be in phase 1 coronavirus quarantine lockdown.

The Lord gives the bread of adversity. He does not promise cake. But He promises that, amid the adversity, His people will see—and, seeing, they will learn. And learning, they will endure. I close, then, with the verse I cited earlier in this chapter—but now in fuller context: “For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:17-18).

Action Steps

Assess your response to extortion and corruption realistically. If you are supporting a prisoner financially, establish clear boundaries for how your funds will and will not be used. Pamela’s principle is sound: once a predator identifies a funding source, the extortion never ends. Work with the prisoner and trusted advisors to identify the least harmful course of action, recognizing that there may be no clean option—only less destructive ones.

Learn the economics of the prison system you are engaging. Understand who profits from incarceration—judges, prosecutors, expert witnesses, guards, contractors—and how those financial incentives shape the treatment of prisoners. Advocacy for the unjustly imprisoned requires knowledge of the system’s structural corruption, not merely sympathy for its victims.

Do not underestimate the ministry of small comforts. A shared meal, a smuggled clove for a toothache, a clean pair of sheets—these are not trivial in a context where human dignity is systematically stripped away. The visitor or supporter who provides such things is contesting the prison’s dehumanizing project with tangible acts of mercy.

Pray specifically for the unjustly imprisoned and for those whose innocence is uncertain. The eighty-twenty distinction Ismael described should inform your prayers. Ask God to deliver the innocent, to convict the guilty of sin, and to sustain all who suffer—regardless of their legal status—with the bread of His presence even amid the bread of adversity.

Prepare prisoners and their families for the spiritual reality that affliction may not end quickly. Court dates will be postponed. Appeals will be denied or delayed. Conditions will not improve on any human schedule. The bread of adversity is not a snack; it is often a long meal. Ground your encouragement in passages like Isaiah 30:20, 2 Corinthians 4:16-18, and Romans 8:28, which promise not escape but purpose within suffering.

Discussion Questions

Ismael estimated that twenty percent of Chilean prisoners are basically innocent or improperly sentenced. What obligations does this reality place on the church—both in terms of advocacy and in terms of ministry to those whose guilt or innocence is uncertain? How should Christians think about ministering in a system where justice and injustice are so thoroughly intertwined?

Pamela’s counsel about the extortion situation—that paying would only create a permanent revenue stream for the predator—reflects a kind of practical wisdom that is essential in prison ministry. Can you think of analogous situations in your own context where well-meaning generosity could enable exploitation rather than relieve suffering? How do you discern the difference?

The chapter describes God’s Providence working through imperfect and even corrupt channels—a choro protecting Guillermo, new cellmates mitigating a dangerous situation. How does this fit with the biblical pattern of God using unlikely instruments (Cyrus, Rahab, Balaam’s donkey) to accomplish His purposes? What comfort does this offer to those who feel trapped in unjust circumstances?

Isaiah 30:20 promises that adversity will become the context for instruction—“thine eyes shall see thy teachers.” In what ways did the adversities described in this chapter serve as a school for the men of módulo 118? What did they learn that could not have been learned in freedom? And what does this suggest about the way Christians should interpret prolonged suffering in their own lives or in the lives of those they serve?