Testimonials: Cody Waske

Testimonials: Cody Waske

(This testimonial was written by one of our incarcerated students, sharing their faith and study of God’s Word.)

My name is Zacharias, and God sent me here today for you.

I was recently arrested for child pornography, and I knew—and still know—how detestable that was. Three days online having conversations with strangers and an undercover FBI agent requested photos; I produced two and was picked up shortly after.

After a short interrogation, I was sent to the county jail and put in the “bullpen” or holding cell for inmates awaiting a bunk. It was small, cold, and packed.

It took two days to finally get a bed in “Gen Pop” (General Population), but I was finally given a room.

It was late, almost ten at night, and the room I was given was trashed. The officer on duty brought me a trash bag and cleaning supplies, and I began to clean.

It wasn’t until this point that I noticed the only clean spot in the whole room: a shelf above the toilet was spotless except for a little Gideon’s pocket Bible.

I ignored it.

I cleaned the cell, gave the supplies back, and the cell door was closed and locked.

The next morning, I woke to the sound of chow being called. I ate and then returned to my cell. I finally picked up that little book and read a few Psalms. It wasn’t long before the officer came over the intercom to tell me I was leaving for the courthouse arraignment.

As I walked to the desk, I asked if I might keep the little book, and the officer simply shrugged and said, “I don’t care.”

When they dressed me out to leave, I was put back in my cargo shorts, and the little book was tossed in my left side pocket. Then I was cuffed hands to feet, put in the van, and on my way.

When we arrived at the courthouse, I was put in a holding cell alone. I was there for 20 minutes or so before another man was brought in and put into my cell.

He was large, like an old linebacker, and tall. He was finely dressed and in good spirits—in short, my opposite.

As the door locked behind him, a woman appeared with a pad of paper and a chair. She sat outside the cell, and the two of them began to converse.

When they began to speak, I turned my back to them and reached into that deep pocket to retrieve that little book. I looked over my shoulder and was sure that neither of them had seen me do this.

I read a few more Psalms, and when it sounded as if they were about finished, I slipped it back in the pocket as fast as possible and turned back around.

When the woman left, the man turned to me with a big smile and asked a simple question: “Is that your Bible?”

I was shocked! How did he know about it? I knew he hadn’t seen it.

“Well, it’s the jail’s, actually,” I said dumbly.

“But they let you keep it, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” I replied.

He laughed deep in his belly—a laugh full of joy in a place where I was convinced joy didn’t exist.

“My name is Zacharias, and God sent me here today for you,” he said. “See, I’m not supposed to be here, but God brought me here to tell you that the wall you think you’ve built between you and Him doesn’t exist.”

How did this man, whom I’d never met, know that my whole life, I’d seen sin as bricks and each one a block in the wall I’d built between me and God?

He must have seen my shock and doubt.

He continued, “I don’t have much time. They’re going to come let me out soon.”

You have to understand—this, too, sounded crazy to me. No one just leaves the courthouse holding cell scot-free without seeing the judge.

He pressed on, “God sent me to tell you He loves you, that He desires for you to call out to Him. He wants you to lean on Him. He desires a relationship with you.”

At this point, I began to tear up—something you never do in jail or prison. I held back as best as possible until I looked up and saw the tears in his eyes.

He asked if we could pray, and I said, “Yes.” I don’t fully remember the words of that prayer, but it ended with “God save his weary soul.”

Then this stranger told me he loved me.

And sure enough, two officers came, uncuffed him, and said, “You’re free to go. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

If you’ve ever done time, this should shock you. It does me. That just doesn’t happen. It’s not the way it works.

He just smiled and thanked them, then winked at our shared secret.

A little book, a kind heart, and a great love.

Those things would forever change my life.

God had sent me an angel.

Cody W.