If there’s one thing that has impressed me this past year, it’s that prison work is not just a ministry—it’s ministry in the trenches. It’s a place where the stakes are high, the pressure is palpable, and the atmosphere is charged. It’s one of those places wherein superficial conversations quickly give way to those that matter most.
I remember during one of my first camps, it was a Friday, and the dads along with several of the porters (an offender who works with and helps out the Chaplain) were present. I stood beside the offenders, watching as a conversation began. I can’t tell you whether I reached out to him or he reached out to me, but what I can say is that it was real—very real. Real to the point that he told me, less than a minute into our conversation, that he had contemplated suicide the night before.
How often have you had such a conversation in a church lobby or in a Bible Class for that matter? Inside the walls of a penitentiary, that’s where the ministerial rubber meets the road. It’s where what matters is finding internal freedom, where what’s of critical importance is strength to cope, and what matters above all is hope. Taking the message of Jesus with those who are incarcerated is like having an opportunity to work at the epicenter of change.
I say all of that to highlight that there’s a battle. Not a battle between the law and offenders, nor inmates amongst themselves, and not just the battle of good versus evil here on earth. The battle I refer to is in the metaphysical realm, where unseen forces—both good and evil—exist just beyond our perception.”
I remember someone once asking, “What do you call someone who believes in God, but doesn’t believe in the devil?” They’re not agnostics and they’re certainly not atheists. After a long pause he said, “I’ll tell you what they are—they’re vulnerable.” And isn’t that the truth? Peter warned us to, “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” (1 Pt. 5:8)
The Evil One is so cunning, convincing us to believe that the battle is against the system, a judge, perhaps a family member, a neighbor, coworker or a cellmate. No, the battle is much weightier that that. Paul wrote: “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” (Eph. 6:12)
Friends, it’s easy for us to get lost in the physical realities of prison life—bars, guards, rules, and routines. But the true battle lies deeper, where the forces of darkness push against hope, where redemption feels impossible. When we enter these spaces, bringing the message of Jesus, we do more than minister to the incarcerated; we stand in the gap, shining light in places where it is desperately needed.
Remember, our Lord said, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” (Jn. 10:10) That’s not just a promise; it’s the reality in which we, as believers, live. With God, the victory is already secured, and the hope we bring to these men and women—even behind the walls of a penitentiary—is real.
Now that 2024 is drawing to an end, let us remain steadfast in our mission, knowing that the work we do has eternal significance. Thus, may we enter 2025 with hearts full of purpose and courage to face the challenges that come our way—and they will come our way. However, with God, the victory is already secured!
You are loved!
Les
