“I’ve thought about that a lot lately, too,” I said. “I became a chaplain at a time when I was scrambling to put my life back together, probably would’ve taken anything, and the combination of forensics and ministry seemed a natural. But now I really think this is exactly where I’m supposed to be—for now at least.”

She started to say something, but the phone rang.

When I answered, a friendly voice said, “Chaplain Jordan, this is Chuck in the warehouse. We have a special delivery for you and need to see you right away.”

“I’m kind of busy right now. Can I come over after lunch?”

“No, you have to personally sign for it and it’s here now.”

“Okay, I’m on my way,” I said. “Thanks.”

“I’ve got to go to the warehouse,” I said to Anna as I stood. “Can I drop by your office after lunch?”

After sending the inmates back down on the compound, Anna and I walked over to the library where Bobby Earl Caldwell’s thunderous preaching could be heard.

I wasn’t aware of it, but I must have been making my eating broccoli face.

“Makes you cringe, doesn’t it?” Anna asked.

“Doesn’t it you?”

“Well, yeah, but I bet it bothers you more.”

I tried to get Officer Whitfield’s attention, but his back was to us and the tape was so loud he couldn’t hear me.

As soon as Bobby Earl Caldwell brought his message to a frenzied finish, Bunny came on and made a tearful appeal for money.

I looked at Anna. She was laughing.

Whitfield jumped when I tapped him on the shoulder, stopped the tape, and spun around to face me.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ve got to go down to the warehouse, so I need to lock up.”

“Sure,” he said. “No problem. The message is over anyway.”

As we walked out of the chapel, and I paused to lock the door, Whitfield said, “I’m ready to face the enemy on his own territory now.” He nodded toward the compound. “I’ve got my shield of faith, helmet of salvation, breastplate of righteousness... ”

When he finally finished, I said, “Well, go fight the good fight.”

It sounded more sarcastic than I intended, and, as he walked away, Anna laughed. When I was sure he was too far away to hear me, I did too.

“He should be the chaplain here,” I said. “Not me.”

The great irony for a man in my position is how little use I have for organized religion. I am essentially a member of the unchurched. Yet, since high school I’ve felt a strong sense of vocation, a paradoxical longing and belonging which somehow resulted in my becoming a nonreligious religious leader. I was on the very fringe of religion, but so far prison chaplaincy had worked for me.