On Tuesday, I stayed up much later than usual, waiting to hear news about Kelly Gissendaner’s scheduled execution. Over the past few years, Kelly has been friended and loved by many people that I love. Students and faculty members at McAfee School of Theology, where I am blessed to teach as an adjunct professor, have strong ties to Lee Arrendale prison, the women’s prison where Kelly was incarcerated. McAfee students along with students at three other Atlanta-area seminaries, Candler, Columbia, and ITC, have participated since 2009 in a program that provides classes in Bible, ethics, and theology at Arrendale. Kelly signed up for the classes and eventually received a certificate in theological studies.
Kelly’s story has been widely told–I hope you will read and listen to more about her strong faith, her care for fellow prisoners, her ministry of mercy among women on suicide watch.
Because people I care about cared so deeply, gave so much, and shared so freely about their love for Kelly, I was drawn to her story. Beginning last March as she faced her second scheduled execution date (the first was cancelled due to snow), I began to pray for Kelly. I signed petitions, wrote letters, sent emails, and made phone calls, contacting state officials and asking them to grant clemency for Kelly. I stayed up late the night before the March execution date, and that execution was cancelled as well. It was a miracle–I know of no other way to understand it. It was a miracle.
But then the Georgia State Board of Pardon and Paroles rescheduled Kelly’s execution for September 29. During this last week as the date drew closer, I sent more letters and emails, made phone calls, and prayed. I prayed hard and long, hoping for another miracle. I encouraged my church family to pray with me for Kelly. On Monday, I attended a prayer vigil for Kelly at McAfee. The reality is that I gave only a little to this cause–a little time, a little effort–others, including my friend, Melissa Browning, gave ALL their time, ALL their energy, ALL their love this week to keep Kelly alive. But like so many others, I gave my heart. Kelly’s story won my heart. Her compassion, her love for her children, and her deep, deep remorse won my heart.
And early Wednesday morning, as I sat watching the news, frantically reading social media feeds, waiting for news, my heart was broken. The state of Georgia executed Kelly at 12:21 a.m.
All day Wednesday I felt so numb, so lost. I didn’t even have the energy to rant. I had no words.
But I did have a song that came to me–over and over again it played in my head. It is an old hymn, one that I haven’t sung in years. And on Wednesday, the day Kelly died, the hymn was all I had. It is all I have still. I don’t know what to make of the grief I feel, but I am thankful for this old hymn by Edmund Lorenz, “Tell It to Jesus.”
Are you weary, are you heavy hearted?
Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus.
Are you grieving over joys departed?
Tell it to Jesus alone.
Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus,
He is a Friend that’s well known.
You’ve no other such a friend or brother,
Tell it to Jesus alone.
Do the tears flow down your cheeks unbidden?
Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus.
Have you sins that to men’s eyes are hidden?
Tell it to Jesus alone.
Do you fear the gathering clouds of sorrow?
Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus.
Are you anxious what shall be tomorrow?
Tell it to Jesus alone.
Are you troubled at the thought of dying?
Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus.
For Christ’s coming kingdom are you sighing?
Tell it to Jesus alone.
Pam Durso is executive director of Baptist Women in Ministry, Atlanta, Georgia.