One of the lesser-known ministries of Covenant Church is called the “Covenant Pulpit.” Many in our church know that we print the sermon each week and make it available to those who attend. But a lesser-known fact is that we also mail copies of these sermons to prisons across Florida. One of my great joys is receiving correspondence from prisoners who are reading our sermons and sharing them with other inmates.
Earlier this year, I received a letter from an inmate named Todd. He’s a follower of Jesus who has sinned in the kind of ways that get a person sentenced to the State Penitentiary for a long time. But he has renounced his sin and is seeking to make the most of his time behind bars. This particular letter struck a chord with me because I think some of the problem of Christianity in prison is some of the problem of Christianity everywhere. In Todd’s words, “The large majority of us are experts in the deflecting of blame and shifting of responsibility.” Like them, we too need to be reminded with some frequency of both the bad news (we really are sinners without hope) and the good news (Jesus Christ came to save sinners!). Without the first, we have little joy in our salvation for living the Christian life because we do not appreciate the condition we were in. Without the latter, we have no hope. But when we continually preach both the bad news and the good news to ourselves and our hearers, we “rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory” (1 Pet. 1:8). It’s a good word for those of us involved in prison ministry, but also in any ministry. May the letter challenge and encourage you as it did me.
“Dear Pastor Trent,
…I’m currently reading Eric Metaxas’ brilliant biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and while I do not subscribe to all of Bonhoeffer’s theology, his book The Cost of Discipleship is incredible. During his recounting of Bonhoeffer’s trip to America in 1930-1931, Metaxas spoke of the German’s thoughts on both theology as a whole in America then, as well as his developing ideas of what the true Church is like. Metaxas writes: “Bonhoeffer’s experiences with the African-American community underscored an idea that was developing in his mind: the only real piety and power that he had seen in the American church seemed to be in the churches where there were a present reality and past history of suffering.” As I read that passage, I thought about the dichotomy of perception versus reality of the “church” in the Florida prison system. Every prison I have been to, seven, counting the reception centers has multiple Christian ministries visiting them on a weekly basis, delivering sermons, leading worship services, teaching classes, etc. There is music, praise songs, prayers, Bible readings, the free exchange of devotional literature, and personal contact with volunteers who willingly give of their time to minister to what is, admittedly, a forgotten (sadly, often as not) segment of both society and body of Christ. We and the outside volunteers speak of the “tough environment,” how “hard” it is to live the Christian life within these walls and behind these fences…yet, as I look at the visible church here in prison, I can’t help but think that one would expect to see that “real piety and power” that Metaxas wrote of that Bonhoeffer raved about in his letters. But it is not here, and I wonder why.
Bonhoeffer said that piety and power was lacking in American Northern white churches and was present in African-American churches because the gospel, the cross of Christ, sin, and grace were not preached or taught in the former and were all that was taught in the latter. An adherence to and a reliance on the gospel in the midst of suffering gave those churches and their members a filling of joy and the power of the Spirit that could not be contained. Why is that lacking here (in prison)? We have the gospel delivered here all the time; in fact, as I have mentioned before, I believe too many deliver too much milk here, keeping believers from growing, in point of fact, unknowingly stunting their growth, which is part of the problem. Yet, though they get the gospel, it does not make an impact. It is as if we were workers in the vaults of Fort Knox; the treasure, as priceless and beautiful as it is, has become just part of everyday life though to those who see us as guests, we act the part and make the requisite reactions.
We, of course, suffer from several maladies. Each belongs to a particular flavor of theology and the study of that theological doctrine’s tenets becomes of paramount importance. Even though numerous religions are also here, and opportunities for apologetics abound, its study becomes a lesson plan on how to win debates. But is that the reason Christianity in here lacks power, I wonder? Ministers and volunteers come in here and often they speak of the great amount of joy they derive from ministry in here, how much they love coming here, how it is the highlight of their weeks. And I am thrilled that that is so, but I have to ask, to what end? If the inmates show up, clap, sing the songs, pray the prayers, read the Scriptures; if they read their “Our Daily Bread” and “Beside Still Waters,” and Proverbs every day (because, as we all know, “a proverb a day keeps the devil away,” hip, hip hooray!), and go right on living the same lives, with no change, no power, nothing, then what good is it doing, all these visits that bring the volunteers such joy?
After some thought, I think part of the answer lies in Metaxas’ quote: “where there were a present reality and a past history of suffering.” I know this is heretical in a way to say, but we do not suffer in here. On the contrary, in fact, we complain if our fish sandwich meal does not contain cake with icing but comes with a cookie because the kitchen ran out of cake. We are near apoplectic when we are made to walk left out of the dorm, a detour that makes us walk around and under a grove of 70-80 foot pines, draped with Spanish moss, rather than right, which involves two minutes less walking. You get the point. We do not suffer…but oh, how often we are told, either explicitly or implicitly, that we do! And as fallen sinners, we will leap at any chance to make ourselves the victims and not the guilty sinners we are. Yes, the gospel is preached, but because of our status as suffering saints (or suffering, marginalized persecuted ones who are lost) we get loads of grace and almost no “sin, law and justice” as Wesley phrased it. As a result, the church here is as impotent as the ones in New York that Bonhoeffer encountered in the 30’s.
Because of the impression that we are either all hardened, gruff, menacing convicts who only lack knowledge of the grace of God in Christ, or are maligned, persecuted, sufferers a few small steps down from Solzhenitsyn or Dostoevsky and their experience in the galaxy, who only need to hear of Jesus/ love, the softer side of the gospel is all most outsiders believe that we should hear. However, the truth is much the reverse. The large majority of us are experts in the deflecting of blame and shifting of responsibility; as in the infamous line from Shawshank Redemption, “Didn’t you know? Everyone’s innocent in here”. Most of us will not admit or accept any culpability for our being in here. Either someone else did it, someone snitched, the case is illegal, or one’s lawyer messed them over, just so no actual blame falls our way. So when a minister or church volunteer comes in not only believing that we are the misunderstood, persecuted unfortunates in some Hugo-esque or Dickenson morality play, but telling us that, we wholeheartedly agree and play it up to the hilt. Almost all of us will gladly put ourselves into the Valjean role, and loudly decry any who dares to place us in the same category as Raskalikov from Crime and Punishment, the truly vile and guilty murderer. Throw in the seemingly visceral hatred of anything that is orthodox or the norm and a prime facie acceptance of any conspiratorial or unorthodox doctrine or teaching, and one sees the recipe for disaster.
What men in here need is the old way: They need to be taught that they are sinners in rebellion against a holy God who is not a Santa Claus-grandfather figure who loves only and is capable of that emotion alone. The church in here has been in desperate need of the old gospel the Puritans preached, that Edwards and Spurgeon preached…and we are not getting it. The problem seems complex, this issue of a lack of piety and power, but in truth, it is simple; it is the solution that is hard, not complicated, just unpleasant. Pray for us. I fear the opinion of many of our volunteers is inveterate, and like Tozer’s tooth, will only be extracted and changed through bloody battle.”
*Reprinted with permission. Thank you also to Sarah S. for typing the letter.
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