A common misconception of young people in detention centers is that they are bad people, easily prone to crime, or intentionally want to be criminals. Before I interacted these people who were not very far in age from me, I will admit—I had the exact same ideas about them. During my freshman year of HS, I was given the opportunity to lead worship at Bexar County Youth Detention Center (BCYDC) in San Antonio, Texas. At first, I was scared. In my mind, the types of people admitted into this detention center were supposed to be bad, hateful, rude young people. However, my outlook changed when I finally entered that gymnasium and saw them for myself.

“We’re going to be ministering to people about your age who are in the jail for juvenile citizens, and I promise you its an eye-opening experience,” Mrs. Sherry explained to us before the band, choir, and I left for the detention center. As she continued talking, I began to realize that some of the people we were going to be leading worship for weren’t exactly who I thought they were originally. Finally, after all the waiting, boys and girls of all ages, shapes, sizes, and ethnicities filtered slowly into their seats. As they sat in their chairs, some of them fidgeted in their seats or looked around at their surroundings. One thing was clear: I was not the only person out of her comfort zone. I was puzzled at the way they reacted, because I had imagined it differently in my head so many times. Once everyone started to sing, some of the youth’s faces softened and picked up their lyric sheets and began to sing along. This made me realize that because they were in the detention center, they were most likely looking for change. They did not want to be delinquents anymore: they wanted to be normal. The speaker, Pastor Ray, came forward, and the band, choir, and I sat down.

“I want to tell you how you can get you out of the very seat you are seated in today,” Ray explained. I scanned the room for facial expressions. He then continued to say that the decisions you make in this life are crucial, and the only difference between them and someone like him, a pastor, are a couple of bad decisions. As he progressed, tears began to fly across faces of the girls and boys like a running stream, and when the time came to pass out Bibles, ¾ of the room raised their hands to receive one. I was shocked. Then, I realized something. A girl in the front row looked familiar. In fact, I remembered her from middle school. We used to be in the same choir class, and I recall she did not hang out with the best kind of people. It occurred to me then—you become the friends you associate yourself with. I could only assume her friends pressured her into making some decision that ended up getting her admitted to the detention center. It could have easily been me in her seat, but she made the bad decision. The people seated in front of me were not criminals: they were human beings. All of the sudden, I could see them in a whole new light. Their hearts were opened to new ideas, and they wanted to make a change in their lives.

Now, I am able to share about my experience with these delinquents to other people that I come in contact with. It’s simple for me to change their assumptions and show them that the youth detention center is not a place for criminals: it’s a place for people who may have lost their way or made a bad decision, and need help finding the right path for them. When you think about people who have been in jail in this way, it is easier to help them to become the person they want to be. Now, I am capable of leading worship without the fear of having to face people who are different than me.