I had my 69th birthday a few days ago and tonight, my wife, her sister, and my youngest son, celebrated the birthday again.
I call it my birthday week, not just a day. It is a good excuse to eat more.
I was asked tonight what a past birthday milestone for me was.
After a moment of memory flashbacks, and deciding which one to talk about, I will share two with those who may read this.
First is my 21st birthday.
I won’t spend but two sentences on that one.
I turned 21 in prison.
Not like Merle Haggard’s song, “Mama Tried.”
In his song, he wrote,
“I turned 21 in prison, doing life without parole. No one could steer me right, but Mama tried, Mama tried. Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading, I denied. That leaves only me to blame ‘cause Mama tried.”
Good news for me, in 1976, I was not doing a life sentence. I should have.
If the two attempted murder charges I did had been murder, then someone else would be writing this.
On my 21st birthday, while in prison, the decision regarding my parole hearing came to me, via a letter from the Board of Pardons and Paroles.
Parole Denied.
End of that birthday.
I wrote more than two sentences, didn’t I?
The next one, a jubilant one, was my 50th birthday.
I was around 36 years old when I started prison ministry. Over those years, and up to this milestone birthday, I had met and ministered to hundreds of inmates.
One, I will never forget. The year was 2002, and I was preaching at the Sheridan Federal Prison in Sheridan, Oregon.
I had been preaching there for several years and got to know many of the men personally. I had led many of my new friends in prison to Jesus Christ.
This one inmate was about 40 years old. He had been coming to my services for two years and sat on the carpeted steps leading out of this chapel. He did not want to sit near the pulpit I preached from.
Certainly, not on the front row.
He came up to me after one of the services and proclaimed to me,
“Joe, next Wednesday when you are here again, marks my next birthday. If you will preach a good sermon for my birthday, and make it personal, maybe I will meet your Jesus, OKAY?”
That is a lot of pressure for me, but I agreed to make it personal.
I went home, and before the next Wednesday arrived, I got out my Bible, concordance, and notes I had saved from previous sermons.
All my ammunition was in front of me to preach a blockbuster sermon for this man.
I worked and worked the Bible, trying to figure out a catchy title, along with scriptures about birthdays.
The best birthday, in the Bible, is about Jesus and His birth in a manger.
So, I am dissecting the Gospels, one by one, and after an hour of this long, manger-to-the-cross-of-Calvary sermon I was working on, the Holy Ghost whispered to me,
“Joe, just preach on My Love.”
Well, I tore up the sermon and just decided to take a stab at winging it.
When I arrived at the prison the next Wednesday, my birthday man was there with anticipation in his brown eyes.
Jesus speaking:
“Now when they bring you to the synagogues and magistrates and authorities, do not worry about how or what you should answer, or what you should say. For the Holy Spirit will teach you in that very hour what you ought to say.”
Luke 12:11-12.
Winging it and trusting the Lord on this birthday sermon. Not just for him, but for all the men in attendance.
I preached from my spiritual well and told stories of my life to the men.
When the time came for the altar invitation, I had the men bow their heads for a moment.
Every man had their heads bowed, except my birthday target.
He is just staring at me.
I invited the men to raise their hands to receive the Lord Jesus as their Savior, and many hands went up. Including the “staring-at-me man.”
I asked those who raised their hands to come forward so I could pray for them.
The men came, except for, you know who.
After praying for the men, I closed the service. I went to leave, and I was cornered by Mr. Birthday.
He said, “Joe, do you see this scar under my chin that runs from ear to ear?”
“Yes,” I said back to him.
(I had seen the scar before with the few times we had conversed).
He told me the story.
“Right before I came to prison, I hated my life, and my wife. I wanted to kill myself. I got in my car, without a seat belt, and purposely drove my car at 70 miles per hour directly into a telephone pole. I walked away without a scratch. Well, I am not even good at this, much less my marriage.”
He continued,
“Then, I walked home, and got my pistol, and called the cops. I expected them to kill me if I drew my pistol. They showed up, and I pulled my gun on them in my living room. They postured themselves away from me and demanded I drop the weapon. I lost my courage to shoot them or have them kill me.”
(This is called Suicide by Cop.)
“So, I dropped my pistol and pulled out my pocketknife. They did not arrest me quick enough, to keep me from slitting my throat from ear to ear, deeply.”
(Hence, the scar on his neck, from ear to ear.)
He said,
“Joe, that did not work either, because I did not bleed to death. The police who were in my home that day, put a tourniquet on my neck. I found out later, I missed the main vein in my neck when I sliced myself open. Blood was everywhere. I was charged for multiple felonies after my hospital stay, and that is why I am here.”
I responded,
“Sounds to me that God spared your life, young man. First the car wreck you walked away from. Secondly, you could have been shot to death by the police. And, finally, you slit your throat.”
Any other person would have died the first attempt.
But not him.
I believe God spared this man.
I asked him if he meant business by raising his hand.
He said, “Yes, Joe, yes I did mean business.”
I thought, “Great.”
We talked some more, and he discussed why he raised his hand but did not come forward for prayer.
He told me that he just is not ready yet.
I honored his thoughts, said happy birthday, and left.
The next Wednesday, he surrendered to Jesus and was born-again.
So, now to my 50th birthday celebration, and why it is such a milestone.
I had met a lady in Colorado, through another inmate, and she invited us to minister in some prisons in Colorado. She and her husband were preachers for years, primarily in prisons.
On my 50th birthday, I checked my mail at the local post office. I had a box there for ministry mail.
I got a package and inside the package was a letter, and 50 cards.
The letter was from the prison ministry lady from Colorado:
“Dear Joe, enclosed are 50 individual birthday cards from men you have been preaching to at Sheridan for all these years. Many of them have transferred to other prisons in other states. Happy Birthday, Joe.”
Enclosed were handmade cards from men who I remember from many years of preaching. Each one spoke of how they were saved under the ministry God had given me.
Every card basically said the same congratulations to me.
Towards the end of the pile, was a card from the man at Sheridan who had cut his throat.
It read,
“Dear Preacher Joe, Happy Birthday, and may you always remember my birthday again sometime and send me a card. I have been serving Jesus, ever since you prayed for me that time at Sheridan. I was transferred to the Kentucky Federal prison and will be released soon. God Bless you, Joe.”
Inside the card was an actual picture of him wearing a tuxedo.
Men in the Federal system, upon a visit by family, can use free world clothes for pictures with family after visitation. Many drive or fly from far away to visit their inmate family members.
It is a great gesture for the men. At least for two hours during a visit, they can feel like a normal human being with nice clothes.
He had worn a tuxedo to have that picture taken, just to send to me.
On the back of the picture it read,
“Happy 50th, Joe. Keep preaching about the love of Jesus, wherever you go. I love you.”
In this picture, if you look closely, you will still see the scar on his neck.
A reminder of how God saved this man from suicide.
Not once, not twice, but three times.
To him, I am sure, every day he is alive to serve the Master Jesus, is a birthday to him.
Scars remind us of our pain.
Physical, mental, and emotional scars are there. Only the physical ones show.
The others do not show, but they are visible, indeed.
How so?
When a physical scar has healed, it leaves a reminder of the pain.
If mental or emotional scars are not healed, they leave a visible scar on the outside that everyone can see.
It is called sadness. Sorrow. Depression. Anger, etcetera.
Jesus can heal us physically. He can make the blind see, and the lame walk.
He can also open our hearts, and do secret surgery, so those outward scars I just spoke about, will disappear eventually.
All you must do is ask Him.
“Jesus, heal me from the inside out.”
Let this day be a real BIRTH-day.
The birth of your broken heart healed.
It is a milestone, you know.
Copyright © 2025 by Joe Wilkins
