A few months back, what had been an invitation to connect with a local writer, I never expected to find myself in the back of a room with hymnal holding rebels, a celebration of work release, and prayer requests for court dates. I was dressed in my favorite red shirt and jeans, fun shoes to match and my hair clean and brushed. All around me church pews were filled with broken hearts and grateful people.

Disheveled clothes. Strange smells and dirt. Inked skulls and teardrops. Messes that had landed these beautiful ones in an isolated cell. This morning led them to come together in an old church, as a family, as a community, and love on each other with a cigarette and the Lord’s prayer.

Something intrigued me about this. This style of worship. This love. This acceptance.

A couple hymns shared in song led to time of prayer and praise. As the microphone was freely passed, hands went up all over the room where praises of finding temporary shelter and a sandwich, to the prayers of a young mother soon to see her young children again. The excitement in her eyes made me tear up.

A man from the podium led the room in the Serenity Prayer and I wondered if they believed the words. If going back to their reality that afternoon would question all the faith they had left.

The beauty of communion with these rough, tattered, precious people was the most authentic thing that reflected the reality of what Jesus’s heart beats for. In rubber gloves, the bread was served to me and the words whispered, “do this in remembrance of Me..” by a man with images inked through his throat. There was no flair, just a picture of grace with a side of simplicity. Yet, the massive awareness of a Savior who rips through the baggage of life and sets us straight again. Time and time again.

From my cookie cutter view of church, I had never experienced something so real. So raw.

My insides had been craving this. To see somewhere, where broken stories were given a voice. Given a second chance. Loved.

As dozens lined up to have the pastor sign off their church release, I couldn’t help but think..these beautiful ones.. they pray and party, cuss a little, and sing. I am no better than any of them. They love with all they have left.

These are the ones. The ones Jesus came alongside. Waited for.

This is what moves the heart of God, the most beautiful expression of church.

Isaiah 61:1-3

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,[a]
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy,
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor.