(CNN)I met Kelly Gissendaner in January 2010 in a nondescript classroom at Metro State Prison for Women in Atlanta. She arrived for class beaming with excitement about the journey she was about to begin -- participation in a yearlong academic theology program sponsored jointly by four Atlanta seminaries. Since she has been sentenced to the death penalty and lives in solitary confinement, Kelly was particularly eager to share community with others, if only one morning a week. And she was grateful for the opportunity to explore the Bible and theology in a rigorous manner that would nurture and deepen her devotional life. That image of her on the first day of class remains vivid to me because it captures the core of who Kelly is — who she has become: someone full of contagious joy and gratitude, open to others and to new experiences for growth and ministry. Kelly's process of transformation began shortly after she arrived in prison following her conviction for murder in the death of her husband, Doug Gissendaner. A pastor began visiting her and initiated a series of difficult, yet compassionate, conversations that urged her toward courageous self-reflection. This same pastor has been visiting Kelly for almost 16 years. Her commitment to Kelly, along with that of the prison chaplain and chaplaincy interns, provided steady, ongoing love that fostered change. So by the time I met Kelly in 2010 she had already undergone a significant transformation. She was, in the words of the Apostle Paul, a "new creation" (2 Cor. 5:17). In the theology program, Kelly found her own voice and came to see that her reflections on Christian faith could be a gift to the wider church "on the outside," as well as in prison. By studying historical and contemporary Christian thinkers, Kelly became part of the conversations that make the Christian tradition dynamic. She asked honest questions about her relationship to God, others and the world. She read scripture and grappled with centuries-old theological questions. She discovered her authentic theological voice in the midst of this work. "From the start of the theology class I felt this hunger," she said in her 2011 graduation speech. "I became so hungry for theology, and what all the classes had to offer; you could call me a glutton." One of the great joys of being a theology professor is getting to know students holistically, not only as thinkers, but also as human beings wrestling with some of life's most urgent questions. My relationship with Kelly had this quality from the start. But it deepened six months into the year when a new warden arrived at the prison. In her graduation speech, Kelly described this moment:. "There came a time when ... my worst fears became my reality -- I was pulled from the courses. I was taken from my theological community. Being pulled from the program devastated me as badly as if someone had just told me one of my appeals had been turned down. "Since I couldn't go to the theology class ... the instructors came to me. Still, this was far from being ideal because now I had to have class and community through a gate. It was hard ... but I pushed on. I pushed on because of that hunger. That gate ... was meant to keep everyone and everything separated from me. But that gate couldn't keep out the knowledge that I was so hungry for, nor friendship and community. And it sure couldn't keep out God." This change afforded us the chance to have two hours of one-on-one conversation every Friday. We continued to read theological texts together, including a book by then-Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams. Williams describes healing and restoration as the act of facing our painful memories, "the ruins of the past," and building from them here and now. Restoration, Williams writes, "is going back to the memories of the painful, humiliating past and bringing them to redemption in the present ... to Christ [who] comes to repair the devastation." I sat with Kelly as she went back over some of her own painful memories, took responsibility for them and showed profound remorse about who she had been and what she had done. Indeed, the power of these moments -- when Kelly looked me in the eye and confessed concrete sins, when we spoke of God's love and forgiveness -- will stay with me forever. Kelly embraced what Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German pastor-theologian and Nazi resister, calls "costly grace." For Bonhoeffer, "cheap grace" is seeking God's forgiveness as a "cover-up for one's sins, for which one has no remorse and ... even less desire to be set free." In contrast, costly grace requires rigorously following Jesus in a way that leads to continuous, visible transformation, what the New Testament calls the fruits of redemption. The fruits of Kelly's redemption are now well-documented: reconciliation with her children, ministry to inmates full of despair, counsel to troubled youth and daily concern for others. On the night Kelly thought would be her last, she spent the evening writing a letter to her fellow inmates, urging them not to worry about her, but to be encouraged. Most poignant for Kelly are the writings of German theologian Jürgen Moltmann, who is widely known as the "theologian of hope" and with whom Kelly began corresponding in 2010. Moltmann shows that biblical hope is not a hope that gives up on this life and looks for something better beyond the grave. Rather, hope makes manifest the kingdom of God now --God's intended social order "on earth as it is in heaven" (Matt. 6:10). Biblical hope "revolutionizes and transforms the present."  It is the hope of the psalmist who "looks for the goodness of God in this life" (Ps. 27:13).  In the words of Kelly's favorite scripture, it is a hope that proclaims: "I shall not die but live, and declare the works of the Lord" (Ps 118:17). In Kelly's own words:. "The theology program has shown me that hope is still alive and that, despite a gate or a guillotine hovering over my head, I still possess the ability to prove that I am human. Labels on anyone can be notoriously misleading and unforgiving things. But no matter the label attached to me, I have the capacity and the unstoppable desire to accomplish something positive and have a lasting impact ... Even prison cannot erase my hope or conviction that the future is not settled for me, or anyone." Many people have asked me in recent days how I have been transformed by my friendship with Kelly and by Kelly's journey of hope. While I struggle to find adequate words, what I do know is that Kelly's story pushes the logic of Christian faith to its outermost limits. It pushes Christians to reexamine and reaffirm the truths we proclaim about repentance, forgiveness, redemption and hope. Indeed, even professional theologians and life-long pastors struggle with the weight of the claims we make. Today, Kelly's life hangs in the balance. The state of Georgia on Monday issued a last-minute postponement of her execution, citing concerns about the drugs that were to be used to kill her. The Department of Corrections has said that it plans to resume executions once an analysis of the drugs is complete. While Gov. Nathan Deal does not have the formal power to commute Kelly's sentence to life in prison, I join more than 1,100 faith leaders from across the nation, including more than 500 from Georgia, who have signed a letter urging the governor to use his political influence to save Kelly's life and to speak out publicly against her execution. I call on all people of good will to reach out to Gov. Deal and to Georgia state legislators to demand a more just, merciful, and accountable system of justice -- for Kelly and for all. As theologian Richard Amesbury wrote, "If the life even of a convicted murderer can be turned around and so radically redirected, then none of us is without hope." We need to hear Kelly Gissendaner proclaim to us -- as much as we proclaim to her -- that the promises of God are real.

Write highlights for this article.
The execution of Kelly Gissendaner was postponed due to concerns over injection drugs.
McBride: In her time on death row, Gissendaner has discovered hope through theology.
(CNN)Jag träffade Kelly Gissendaner i januari 2010 i ett icke-deskriptt klassrum på Metro State Prison for Women i Atlanta. Hon kom för klassbetonad med spänning över resan hon skulle påbörja -- deltagande i ett årslångt akademiskt teologiprogram sponsrat gemensamt av fyra Atlantaseminarier. Eftersom Kelly har dömts till dödsstraff och lever i isoleringscell, var hon särskilt angelägen om att dela gemenskap med andra, om än bara en morgon i veckan. Och hon var tacksam för möjligheten att utforska Bibeln och teologin på ett rigoröst sätt som skulle ge näring åt och fördjupa hennes andaktsliv. Den bilden av henne den första dagen i klassen förblir levande för mig, eftersom den fångar kärnan i vem Kelly är — vem hon har blivit: någon som är full av smittsam glädje och tacksamhet, öppen för andra och för nya erfarenheter för tillväxt och tjänst. Kellys omvandlingsprocess började strax efter att hon kommit i fängelse efter sin fällande dom för mord i makens, Doug Gissendaners, död. En pastor började besöka henne och inledde en rad svåra, men ändå medlidsamma, samtal som uppmanade henne till modig självreflektion. Samma pastor har besökt Kelly i nästan 16 år. Hennes engagemang för Kelly, tillsammans med fängelseprästens och fältprästens praktikanters engagemang, gav en stadig, fortgående kärlek som främjade förändring. Så när jag träffade Kelly 2010 hade hon redan genomgått en betydande förändring. Hon var, enligt aposteln Paulus ord, en "ny skapelse" (2 Kor. 5:17). I teologiprogrammet fann Kelly sin egen röst och kom att se att hennes reflektioner över kristen tro kunde vara en gåva till den bredare kyrkan "på utsidan", liksom i fängelset. Genom att studera historiska och samtida kristna tänkare blev Kelly en del av de samtal som gör den kristna traditionen dynamisk. Hon ställde ärliga frågor om sitt förhållande till Gud, andra och världen. Hon läste skrift och brottades med flera hundra år gamla teologiska frågor. Hon upptäckte sin autentiska teologiska röst mitt i detta verk. "Från början av teologiklassen kände jag denna hunger", sade hon i sitt examenstal 2011. »Jag blef så hungrig för teologien, och hvad alla klasser hade att erbjuda; man kunde kalla mig frossare.» En av de stora glädjeämnena med att vara teologiprofessor är att lära känna studenter holistiskt, inte bara som tänkare, utan också som människor som brottas med några av livets mest angelägna frågor. Min relation med Kelly hade den här egenskapen från början. Men det fördjupades sex månader in på året då en ny fängelsedirektör anlände till fängelset. I sitt examenstal beskrev Kelly detta ögonblick:. "Det kom en tid då ... mina värsta rädslor blev min verklighet -- jag drogs från kurserna. Jag togs från mitt teologiska samfund. Att jag drogs bort från programmet förgjorde mig lika illa som om någon just hade sagt att en av mina vädjanden hade avslagits. "Eftersom jag inte kunde gå på teologikursen... kom instruktörerna till mig. Men detta var långt ifrån idealiskt, eftersom jag nu måste ha klass och gemenskap genom en grind. Det var svårt... men jag gick vidare. Jag drev på på grund av den hungern. Porten skulle hålla alla och allt åtskilda från mig. Men den porten kunde inte dölja kunskapen som jag var så hungrig efter, och inte heller vänskap och gemenskap. Och det kunde verkligen inte hålla Gud ute." Denna förändring gav oss möjlighet att ha två timmars ett-mot-en samtal varje fredag. Vi fortsatte att läsa teologiska texter tillsammans, bland annat en bok av dåvarande archbiskopen av Canterbury Rowan Williams. Williams beskriver helande och restaurering som handlingen att möta våra smärtsamma minnen, "det förflutnas ruiner", och bygga från dem här och nu. Restaurering, skriver Williams, "går tillbaka till minnena från det smärtsamma, förödmjukande förflutna och för dem till återlösning i nuet ... till Kristus [som] kommer för att reparera förödelsen." Jag satt med Kelly när hon gick tillbaka över några av sina egna smärtsamma minnen, tog ansvar för dem och visade djup ånger över vem hon hade varit och vad hon hade gjort. Ja, kraften i dessa ögonblick -- när Kelly såg mig i ögonen och bekände konkreta synder, när vi talade om Guds kärlek och förlåtelse -- kommer att stanna hos mig för alltid. Kelly anammade det som Dietrich Bonhoeffer, en tysk pastor-teolog och nazistmotståndare, kallar "kostlig nåd". För Bonhoeffer är "billig nåd" att söka Guds förlåtelse som en "fördöljelse för sina synder, för vilka man inte har någon ånger och ... ännu mindre önskan att bli fri." Däremot kräver kostsam nåd att man noggrant följer Jesus på ett sätt som leder till kontinuerlig, synlig förvandling, vad Nya testamentet kallar återlösningens frukter. Frukterna av Kellys återlösning är nu väldokumenterade: försoning med hennes barn, tjänst till interner fulla av förtvivlan, råd till orolig ungdom och daglig omsorg om andra. Natten Kelly trodde skulle bli hennes sista, hon tillbringade kvällen med att skriva ett brev till sina medfångar, och uppmanade dem att inte oroa sig för henne, utan att bli uppmuntrade. Mest gripande för Kelly är den tyske teologen Jürgen Moltmanns skrifter, som är allmänt känd som "hoppets teolog" och med vilken Kelly började korrespondera 2010. Moltmann visar att bibliskt hopp inte är ett hopp som ger upp detta liv och letar efter något bättre bortom graven. Snarare, hoppet uppenbarar Guds rike nu -- Guds tilltänkta samhällsordning "på jorden som den är i himlen" (Matt. 6:10). Bibliskt hopp "revolutionerar och förvandlar nuet". Det är psalmistens hopp som "ser efter Guds godhet i detta liv" (Ps. 27:13). I Kellys favoritskrift är det ett hopp som förkunnar: "Jag skall inte dö utan leva, och förkunna Herrens gärningar" (Ps 118:17). Med Kellys egna ord:. "Teologiprogrammet har visat mig att hoppet fortfarande lever och att jag, trots en port eller en giljotin som svävar över mitt huvud, fortfarande har förmågan att bevisa att jag är människa. Etiketter på vem som helst kan vara notoriskt vilseledande och oförsonliga saker. Men oavsett vilken etikett jag har, så har jag förmågan och den ohejdbara viljan att åstadkomma något positivt och ha en varaktig effekt ... Inte ens fängelset kan sudda ut mitt hopp eller övertygelse om att framtiden inte är avgjord för mig, eller någon." Många har frågat mig de senaste dagarna hur jag har förvandlats genom min vänskap med Kelly och Kellys hoppfulla resa. Medan jag kämpar för att hitta lämpliga ord, så vet jag att Kellys berättelse driver logiken i kristen tro till dess yttersta gränser. Den driver de kristna att på nytt granska och bekräfta de sanningar vi förkunnar om ånger, förlåtelse, återlösning och hopp. Ja, även professionella teologer och livslånga pastorer kämpar med tyngden av de anspråk vi gör. Idag hänger Kellys liv på spel. Staten Georgien utfärdade i måndags en sista minuten-uppskjutande av hennes avrättning, med hänvisning till oro över de droger som skulle användas för att döda henne. Kriminalvården har sagt att den planerar att återuppta avrättningarna när en analys av drogerna är klar. Medan Gov. Nathan Deal har inte formell makt att omvandla Kellys straff till livstids fängelse, jag ansluter mig till mer än 1 100 trosledare från hela nationen, inklusive mer än 500 från Georgia, som har undertecknat ett brev där guvernören uppmanas att använda sitt politiska inflytande för att rädda Kellys liv och att offentligt tala ut mot hennes avrättning. Jag uppmanar alla människor av god vilja att nå ut till Gov. Överenskommelse och till Georgia statliga lagstiftare att kräva ett mer rättvist, barmhärtigt och ansvarigt rättssystem -- för Kelly och för alla. Som teologen Richard Amesbury skrev: "Om en dömd mördares liv kan vändas och omdirigeras så radikalt, då är ingen av oss utan hopp." Vi måste höra Kelly Gissendaner förkunna för oss - lika mycket som vi förkunnar för henne - att Guds löften är verkliga. Skriv höjdpunkter för den här artikeln.
(CNN)I met Kelly Gissendaner in January 2010 in a non-descript classroom at Metro State Prison for Women in Atlanta. She came for class-emphasized with excitement over the journey she was about to begin -- participation in a year-long academic theology program sponsored jointly by four Atlanta seminaries. Since Kelly has been sentenced to the death penalty and lives in solitary confinement, she was particularly keen to share fellowship with others, albeit only one morning a week. And she was grateful for the opportunity to explore the Bible and theology in a rigorous way that would nourish and deepen her devotional life. That image of her on the first day of class remains alive to me, because it captures the essence of who Kelly is — who she has become: someone who is full of infectious joy and gratitude, open to others and to new experiences for growth and service. Kelly's transformation process began shortly after she came to prison after her conviction for murder in the death of her husband, Doug Gissendaners. A pastor began visiting her and began a series of difficult, yet compassionate, conversations that urged her to courageous self - reflection. The same pastor has been visiting Kelly for almost 16 years. Her commitment to Kelly, along with the commitment of the prison chaplain and chaplain interns, provided a steady, continuous love that promoted change. So when I met Kelly in 2010, she had already undergone a significant change. She was, according to the words of the apostle Paul, a "new creation" (2 Cor. 5:17). In the theology program, Kelly found her own voice and came to see that her reflections on Christian faith could be a gift to the wider church "on the outside", as well as in prison. By studying historical and contemporary Christian thinkers, Kelly became part of the conversations that make the Christian tradition dynamic. She asked honest questions about her relationship with God, others, and the world. She read writing and wrestled with centuries - old theological questions. She discovered her authentic theological voice in the midst of this work. "From the beginning of the theology class, I felt this hunger," she said in her 2011 graduation speech. "I became so hungry for theology, and what all classes had to offer; one could call me gluttons." One of the great joys of being theology professor is getting to know students holistically, not only as thinkers, but also as people grappling with some of life's most pressing issues. My relationship with Kelly had this quality from the beginning. But it deepened six months into the year when a new warden arrived in prison. In her graduation speech, Kelly described this moment: "There came a time when...my worst fears became my reality -- I was pulled from the courses. I was taken from my theological community. The fact that I was withdrawn from the program destroyed me as badly as if someone had just said that one of my pleas had been rejected. "Since I couldn't attend the Theology course... the instructors came to me. But this was far from ideal, because I must now have class and fellowship through a gate. It was hard... but I moved on. I was pushing because of that hunger. The gate would keep everyone and everything separate from me. But that gate could not hide the knowledge that I was so hungry for, nor friendship and fellowship. And it really couldn't keep God out." This change gave us the opportunity to have two hours one-on-one calls every Friday. We continued to read theological texts together, including a book by the then Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams. Williams describes healing and restoration as the act of meeting our painful memories, "the ruins of the past", and building from them here and now. Restoration, Williams writes, "goes back to the memories of the painful, humiliating past and brings them to redemption in the present ... to Christ [who] comes to repair the devastation." I sat with Kelly as she went back over some of her own painful memories, took responsibility for them and showed deep regret over who she had been and what she had done. Yes, the power of these moments -- when Kelly looked me in the eye and confessed concrete sins, when we talked about God's love and forgiveness -- will stay with me forever. Kelly embraced what Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German pastor-theologist and Nazi opponent, calls "costly grace". For Bonhoeffer, "cheap grace" is to seek God's forgiveness as a "disguise of one's sins, for which one has no remorse and ... even less the desire to be free." On the other hand, costly grace requires careful observance of Jesus in a way that leads to continuous, visible transformation, what the New Testament calls the fruits of redemption. The fruits of Kelly's redemption are now well documented: reconciliation with her children, service to inmates full of despair, advice to troubled youth and daily concern for others. The night Kelly thought would be her last, she spent the evening writing a letter to her fellow prisoners, urging them not to worry about her, but to be encouraged. Most poignant for Kelly is the writings of German theologian Jürgen Moltmann, who is commonly known as "the theologian of hope" and with whom Kelly began to correspond in 2010. Moltmann shows that biblical hope is not a hope that gives up this life and looks for something better beyond the grave. Rather, hope reveals the kingdom of God now -- God's intended social order "on earth as it is in heaven" (Matt. 6:10). Biblical hope "revolutions and transforms the present". It is the hope of the psalmist who "looks after the goodness of God in this life" (Ps. 27:13). In Kelly's favorite writing, it is a hope that proclaims: "I will not die but live, and proclaim the works of the Lord" (Ps 118:17). In Kelly's own words: "The Theology Program has shown me that hope is still alive and that, despite a gate or guillotine hovering over my head, I still have the ability to prove that I am human. Labels on anyone can be notoriously misleading and irreconcilable things. But no matter what label I have, I have the ability and unstoppable will to accomplish something positive and have a lasting effect... Even prison cannot erase my hope or conviction that the future is not decided for me, or anyone." Many have asked me over the past few days how I have been transformed by my friendship with Kelly and Kelly's hopeful journey. While I struggle to find appropriate words, I know that Kelly's story drives the logic of Christian faith to its ultimate limits. It moves Christians to reexamine and confirm the truths we proclaim about repentance, forgiveness, redemption, and hope. Yes, even professional theologians and lifelong pastors struggle with the weight of the claims we make. Today, Kelly's life is at stake. The state of Georgia issued a last minute postponement of her execution on Monday, citing concerns about the drugs to be used to kill her. The Correctional Service has said it plans to resume the executions once an analysis of the drugs is complete. While Gov. Nathan Deal does not have formal power to transform Kelly's sentence into life imprisonment, I join more than 1,100 faith leaders from across the nation, including more than 500 from Georgia, who have signed a letter urging the governor to use his political influence to save Kelly's life and to publicly speak out against her execution. I urge all people of good will to reach out to Gov. Agreement and to Georgia state legislators to demand a more just, merciful and accountable justice system -- for Kelly and for everyone. As theologian Richard Amesbury wrote, "If the life of a convicted murderer can be reversed and redirected so radically, then none of us are without hope." We must hear Kelly Gissendaner tell us - as much as we proclaim to her - that God's promises are real. Write highlights for this article.
Avrättningen av Kelly Gissendaner sköts upp på grund av oro över injektionsdroger. McBride: I sin tid i dödscell har Gissendaner upptäckt hopp genom teologin.
The execution of Kelly Gissendaner was postponed due to concerns over injection drugs. McBride: In his time on death row, Gissendaner has discovered hope through theology.