I thought if I got one more letter from that Jesus Freak, Crazy Lady, Bible Thumper, I would go crazy here in my cell. Even crazier than I was at the time. Her letters annoyed and irritated me. It was pure bullshit to me. Her letters were more punishment than I thought I deserved. What was all this stuff about love? She kept telling me that Jesus loved me, and that she loved me too. That really threw me. How could she love me? She didn't even know me, and if she did get to know me, she wouldn't love me.

Day after day, a letter arrived. This constant irritation began to plow the soil of my heart. I couldn't figure out what was happening to me. I just knew something was disturbing me greatly. I didn't like what I saw in the mirror. I hated myself so much thay I was convinced that I couldn't love anyone including this Jesus that she kept telling me about. How could this Jesus possibly love me after everything I had done in my life. I screwed up so bad, so many times and the word love was just not in my vocabulary. My vocabulary was very offensive to her. I kept wondering to myself, "Why would she continue to write to me when I keep telling her off?"

It was hard for me to make any kind of a rational decision at that time in my life, but I did make a profound decision to write this Crazy Lady and request that she stop sending me that crap about Jesus loving me. I asked her to never write to me again.

One thing I did learn for sure in the five months of those irritating letters was: John 3:16. I knew for sure that God loved the world. I just couldn't believe at this time that it meant Ken Hulsey also.

Having made the decision to tell her to stop sending me those letters, the letters stopped. I was relieved. I patted myself on the back, "I certainly told her off and straightened her out!"

I was shocked one Saturday morning when the guard told me I had a visitor. A visitor? Who would come to see me? Even my family seldom visited anymore. All I can remember is being led to get clothing since mine had been taken from me. My mind kept wandering. "Who would be in the visiting room wanting to see me? It couldn't be my family. They would have written first to let me know they were coming since they lived in Tennessee."

I got myself dressed and was led to the visiting room. I looked around trying to find someone with a familiar face. Seeing none, I knew it was a mistake and was ready to get out of there as soon as I could. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and said to me, "Are you Ken?" I said "Yes, I'm Ken." and a woman said to me, "Hi. I'm Charlene and Jesus loves you." I thought to myself, "Oh no. It's the crazy lady."

We sat down and she began again to tell me that Jesus loved me and loved me so much that He died on the Cross for me. She had her Bible and I thought, "Oh no, here she goes again." I managed to tolerate the day. I kept asking her, "What are you doing here? Are you nuts? Do you know where you are? This is no kind of a place for someone like you." I asked her that over and over. Finally, she said to me with a look of despair, "Well, what are you doing here? This is no place for you to be either." We both started to laugh and that broke the ice a bit.

After the buzzer went off marking the end of visiting hours, I headed back to my cell. On my way back to my cell block I remember thinking, "I enjoyed myself. I really hope she comes back again even if she is a little crazy." She seemed so odd. I knew that there was something different about her since a normal person just doesn't go off to a prison to visit someone they don't even know. It felt so odd to me to talk to someone again. In prison you can't let yourself become vulnerable or open yourself to any feelings of any kind. You could be taken advantage of very easily. I had hardened my heart. I didn't want anyone getting close to me, certainly not a woman I didn't even know. I didn't trust anyone.

She did come back. She came every Saturday for six and a half years. She always brought her Bible and we read a lot. I listened as she prayed and that began to make me wonder too. She was really talking to God. It sounded so personal. I had never prayed. From my perspective I knew she was sincere about Jesus. She demonstrated her sincerity by continuing to minister to me despite my hostility. She even brought a great lunch each week for us to share.

In my arrogance I told her, "The next time you come down why don't you bring this Jesus Dude? Maybe He and I can have a cup of coffee and a smoke." She responded, "I'll buy you a cup of coffee, but I don't smoke." I didn't know what to say. I thought to myself, "You know, everytime she comes it's like Jesus comes with her." I didn't understand that and I can't explain the feeling, but I began to see Jesus on her face. I began to think "There just might be something to this Jesus Dude." I was still not convinced, but I couldn't deny the possibility that Christ could come to me through another person. I began to feel that Charlene was actually Jesus with skin. She literally became the presence of Christ to me.

Her obedience to Christ's call to come to Marion to see me showed me that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the World.

I finally understood John 3:16
"For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son that whosoever believes in Him..."
I finally realized that "whosoever" means Ken Hulsey, and I cried, something I hadn't done in years.