The first time I was invited to preach at “Trenton State” (the max-security New Jersey State Prison in Trenton), I was asked if I would tell the story of my broken neck and how God shaped and provided for me through the experience.  So I prepared a twenty-minute sermon and arrived early Sunday and went through the security process to enter the large room where the services were held before the inmates arrived.  I sat with the chaplain and shook the inmates’ hands as they entered (it was, essentially, a “black church” with some of those traditions).