They Never Told Me About Going To Jail.

When I was a teenager and dating Dallise, I left her house late one night going home on back country roads in South Georgia. I got pulled over by a policeman who jumped out of his car with his pistol drawn and pointed over the top of his car door. He screamed at me to put my hands on top of my car and spread my legs. I was in no position to argue, so I did exactly what he said, but thinking this was obviously a mistake. He said I was speeding and resisting arrest, though I explained I never saw his flashing lights in my rearview mirror. Notwithstanding they escorted me back to the police station and after making a somewhat convincing argument, they let me go with a fine.

It was many years later that I was again arrested and spent two nights in the Birmingham, AL jail. Our church was participating in Operation Rescue. We planned to stage a sit-in on a particular weekend to block the doors of abortion clinics, hoping to save a few babies who might otherwise have been aborted those days. There were four Pastors on staff and it was decided that we should not all participate on Friday in case the police held the arrestees through the whole weekend. One of us would need to be available to lead the Sunday service. I was the elected hold-out for the Friday Rescue. As expected everyone was arrested by mid-morning, men and women and teenagers. But they were released late Friday night, so I was free to do the sit-in the next day. I was arrested fairly early, my hands cuffed behind my back with the tough white plastic zip cuffs, shoved into the paddy wagon with a few others and hauled off to the county jail.

It had been decided that we would take no personal ID with us and that we would each give our name as "John Doe"when booked in. It was thought this might drag out the process a bit and perhaps attract more media attention to the effort. We were all placed in a large common room with 5'x7' individual cells surrounding the perimeter. We were not in with the general population of the jail; we were isolated only with our group, so we certainly felt no danger. We were free to talk, fellowship, pray and read our Bibles together, which we did. It really was turning into just a nice day with other Believers.

We were given an evening meal, then shortly afterward guards escorted each of us to our own individual cells. When the big metal door slammed shut behind me, it no longer seemed to be a day of fellowship. I was wondering why we were not released like the group the day before, but then remembered we had not given our real names and the police were not going to be so easy on us. The cot which stretched from wall to wall in my cell had no sheet, just a hard plastic mattress and no pillow. I had my own little private toilet and sink, but it was very austere.

Somehow, I finally drifted off to sleep, only to be roughly awakened about 3:00 am and dragged down the hallway by the night guard. In my sleepy state, I was having trouble focusing on where I was and why I was being treated this way in the middle of the night. The officer had realized they had failed to fingerprint me and they were going to do it now. He demanded my name, to which I replied John Doe, having finally remembered where I was and why I was there. He explained this game could be played both ways and they did not have to, and would not, release me until they had my real name and felt that I was being cooperative. In spite of the sleepy stupor hanging over me, he finally had my undivided attention. I snapped to alertness and blurted out, "Philip Goodson. That's Philip with one "L". He fingerprinted me and returned me to a fitful night of waiting for morning when I felt sure I would be released.

For whatever reasons the police had, none of us were released on that Sunday either and we all spent a second night in jail, a little less traumatic than the first. Finally, late Sunday we were bonded out upon agreeing we would not participate in Operation Rescue again for some determined period of time.

I don't really think this experience qualified as having been arrested for my faith. I certainly did not suffer and I was not persecuted or even mistreated. We did some "soft time" for taking a stand on an issue about which we felt passionate. I want to believe it made a difference in Birmingham and that a few babies might be alive today because of our actions.

But I have to say that nobody in Bible College told me I might spend a couple of nights in jail. By the way, whose idea was it that I was the one elected to wait until day two and spend two nights in the 5'x7', when everybody else on staff got to go home to their nice warm beds?