“I bet you didn’t go to church on the streets.”

This is a comment you will hear from time to time in prison. You’ll hear it from the COs and see disgust in their eyes as they shake their heads. You’ll hear it from other inmates, those who want to dissuade you from your attempt at walking in newness of life because they are still unwilling to face the truth themselves.

On the one hand, I get it, because, well, many of the people going to church in prison were not going to church “on the streets.” And those who were, obviously, were not living according to God’s moral standard at the time of their arrest.

But I can think of few better places for a person to find – or renew – their faith in Jesus Christ.

It is in prison that one reaches an extremely low point in life. They have been, not only caught, but punished for their wickedness. They can no longer hide who they are. They have been exposed, made acutely aware of their sin nature. They are in a unique position to realize their need for a Savior.

For it is in prison that a person has time to think, now separated from everything they’ve ever known. The fast-paced life is put on pause, perhaps never to be recovered, and a new environment has taken its place. One has time to ponder the intricate details of one’s life, endlessly replaying where it was they went wrong. Feeling the pain and regret of every immoral decision, and all the harm they’ve ever caused. Over and over. And over. Never to be undone.

And the resemblance of the place – if you are willing to admit it – to eternal damnation in hell is uncanny. It makes a body exceptionally alert and extremely vulnerable, and open to change. Thus, prison can become a blessing, giving sight to the blind and life to those who were perishing.

Many men and women have found salvation within the walls of a prison. And many are those who have completely changed their lives because of it.

Why, then, in this age of supposed “rehabilitation” do the governing authorities make it so difficult for the people in prison to practice their faith?

Why, for instance (in the name of security!) do they lock them in stuffy rooms crammed to capacity for an hour at a time, with no bathroom? Why do they force them to wait on the yard for ten, twenty, sometimes thirty minutes or more, in 120-degree temperatures and direct sunlight, before unlocking the chapel door? Why do they “forget” to announce chapel services, or fail to release parishioners on time from their cells, or implement unscheduled “training” shutdowns during scheduled events?

It is sad fact that the weak in faith, the tender new growth, can find such difficulties too great a burden to bear, and wither under the stress. Yes, these hardships can strengthen perseverance, usually in those who are already strong in their faith. But sadly, often, for the weak faith, or the new faith, it can be too much.

Even so, there are some who find their way.

So, we ask our Christian brothers and sisters on the streets: please pray for us.

Please pray that hardened hearts are softened. That many men and women are brought to repentance, salvation – and true change! Please pray for those who are struggling, that they would remain strong. And please pray for the officers. They need our prayers too.

Errol Klein