I breathed deeply. “I . . .”  I hesitated. “I really don’t think I have an answer for you right now.” I hoped this would not offend him.

“Humph!” His voice had quieted down.

“But I will pray about it and ask God for wisdom and understanding.:

“You will? Then pray out loud so I can hear you!”

I closed my eyes. “Lord, I bring this question to you. I do not know the answer to Nicolai’s question. I do not know why some people are more blessed than others. I do not know why Nicolai was born into his situation. When I think of my own parents, I do thank you for them. I thank you for the years you allowed Papa to be at home and teach us about you and to pray to you. I thank you for a godly mother who taught us so much about your love. I thank you that she taught us to pray and ask for whatever we needed or did not understand.

“I am sorry I did not appreciate my mother more when I was young. Tonight, I think of my own children, kneeling and praying for their father here in prison. I know they are praying for my safety and release. Please, Lord, tell them that I can’t come home right now, for there are too many people here in prison who need to hear about Jesus.

“So, Lord, here we are, asking you questions and knowing you hear us. Bless our little discussion tonight. Give me an answer of wisdom for Nicolai. In the name of your Son, Jesus, I pray. Amen.”

I’ll skip some of the story and pick up again with Nicolai.

After a bland breakfast, we were escorted back to the bunk room. The men were waiting for this time.

“Here, holy man, sit here. Tell us more about yourself.” The prisoner gave me a spot on one of the lower bunks.

“Tell us more about your God,” another man chimed in.

Nicolai was there too. “I still think having parents is the most important thing in life,” he began.

A chorus of rebuttals met this statement. “I had parents, and they did no good for me!” shouted one man.

“Then why is Sasha in prison?” called another, gesturing toward a silent prisoner. “He had parents, but he killed them when they were both drunk!” More protests and arguments echoed around the cell before they looked expectantly at me.

“What do you say, holy man?” They all grew quiet, waiting for an answer.

I took a deep breath, praying for wisdom. “I think,” I began, “the most important thing in life is to know God through Jesus Christ.” I did not know if they were ready to hear this or not, but I decided to speak boldly. “I thank God for my mother, but I know she cannot be with me all the time. Only Jesus can do that.” They listened respectfully, then changed the subject.