I once heard a story about a prisoner of war (POW) having to clean his captor’s toilet (it was more like an outhouse than a toilet). The prisoner was in a foreign country and had been a prisoner for over three years when he noticed something written in his language in the fecal matter. One of the officers had used a document that was familiar to this prisoner as paper to wipe with as a crude gesture. The prisoner took the written document, washed it off, and read it. It was a chapter from Romans in the Bible — Romans 8, to be precise. It may seem gross to think of someone reaching in excrement to pull out God’s Word. But what would you do if you had not seen God’s Word in three years?

Romans 8:35-39 (NIV) says in part, “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? … No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life… nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

This POW found joy and encouragement in the most unlikely of places.

I wonder how much value we put on God’s Word in our daily lives. Does it make our soul leap with encouragement and joy — or does it simply get discarded as we move through our daily routines? This POW was willing to reach into the filth and pull out something that brought him comfort, something that told him God is still present even when he felt alone — even in the filth. When you read the Bible, do you see it for what it is or are you letting what others feel about God’s Word cloud your view?

What are you using God’s Word as? Sometimes, if we really are honest, we all can be both the prisoner and the captor in this story.

We may live a life that has waste all around it and misuse the Word for what it was not intended for. On the other hand, we can also find encouragement and hope if we simply take the time to look and wash the filth off. My point is that we need God’s Word not only for hope and encouragement but also as a life preserver when life flushes us down the metaphorical toilet. God’s Word does not just give you hope in a dark time — it gives you principles to live by that will help you live a life of joy in any circumstance.

In his book A Long Obedience In The Same Direction, referring to Psalm 133, author and Bible translator Eugene H. Peterson stated, “If living in community is necessary and desirable, it is also enormously difficult.” It is my desire to be a welcomed part of any community, to contribute to that community and, like costly anointing oil, have a sense of meaning and value in the community. Like this author, I tend to feel deeply and my heart’s desire is to help others. I believe that compassion is not simply feeling for someone, but taking action. Sometimes that requires being willing to pull out something valuable from deep filth.

I have untreated Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). It is a superpower, not a disorder. But, like most superpowers, there are some blind spots. Unfortunately, due to cost I assume, the prison does not treat ADHD. Living with untreated ADHD can be difficult for anyone. I know it is especially difficult for those of us who are in prison. The poor sense of time, the misunderstandings, anxiety, rejection sensitivity dysphoria, hyper-fixations and depression — to name a few symptoms — can be intensified to exasperation. There’s also the forgetfulness, the zoning in and out while in conversations, social awkwardness, poor time management and disorganization. Sometimes, it makes it easy for others to take advantage of me.

Someone with ADHD can easily get the sense that higher education is simply never in the cards for them, no matter how much they desire it. Many may fall to the wayside and turn to drugs or other nefarious vices to cope or escape reality, instead of turning to the victorious, outmatched love of Christ Jesus. Studying God’s Word has helped me see worth, see love and see what that love can make a community look like. I enthusiastically absorb the education that is being provided through Calvin University like a dry sponge. I do this not to narcissistically keep it to myself, like some type of modern day Pharisee who might use it to arrogantly act better than others. No, this education is for others, and I am a vessel to share what I have learned with others, helping my community, my family and my friends. Miracles do happen; God still rolls away stones. Therefore, my story does not end in disappointment or shame. My story is our story — yours, and mine. That story only ends with the grace of God victorious. The prisoner who saw God’s Word in the waste knew this. I wonder how many of us hold it with such esteem.