When asked to describe his volunteer work at a local pre-release center, Beaver Hardy, 71, issues his usual warning: “If you come, you’re going to get hooked, and you’re going to stay.”
Beaver Hardy, 71, is savoring his share of fried flounder. It’s the evening of another men’s group fish-fry at the 800-member St. John’s Episcopal Church in Columbia, South Carolina.
A young man approaches him to ask about Campbell Pre-Release Center, where Beaver and several others mentor prisoners for a few hours every Wednesday night.
Beaver, who got his name at a long-ago summer camp, appraises the young man. In his elegant Carolina drawl, he issues his usual warning: “If you come, you’re going to get hooked, and you’re going to stay.”
Getting Hooked
Beaver fits in at St. John’s. His grandparents helped found the church, and he has attended with his wife, Rhett, for 40-odd years, periodically serving as junior warden, senior warden, and vestryman. In the active men’s group, Beaver has enjoyed “all kinds of fun things,” like the fish-fry, that help the St. John’s men maintain fellowship.
“It really came through the back door,” says Beaver of his introduction to Prison Fellowship. Not quite sure what he was going to, he accepted an invitation to hear Mark Earley and several prisoners speak at Broad River Correctional Institution in Columbia. The prisoners’ testimonies left a deep impression.But a few years ago, several St. John’s men began to wish for more outreach opportunities. When Beaver survived a serious automobile accident, the desire only grew stronger, but he never dreamed of the opportunities God intended to open through him.
But for the grace of God, that could be me, Beaver, a recovered alcoholic, remembers thinking. Or my son. Or my friends.
Beaver sat down with James Murray and Ed Privette, Prison Fellowship staff overseeing the ministry in South Carolina, to talk about how some of the settlement money from his automobile accident could benefit the Onesimus Project, the name of Prison Fellowship’s prisoner reentry programming in the Columbia area.
Telling Others
After hearing their proposal, Beaver read Chuck Colson’s autobiography, Born Again. That spurred him to want to give not only his money but also his time. And with the enthusiasm of someone who first receives the Gospel, he began to spread the word about opportunities for prison ministry. He brought James Murray to talk with his wife, Rhett. Then he introduced James to the men’s group, and finally he secured an opportunity for James to speak at all three Sunday services at St. John’s.
From that exposure, more volunteers from St. John’s have mustered to the call of prison ministry.
James Murray leads the evening’s discussions. The volunteers meet with the prisoners in the cafeteria, huddled at round tables. Announcements blare over the public address system, and the clinks and clangs of dish-washing resound from the kitchen. “It’s not ideal,” says Beaver, but the volunteers and the prisoners make it work, responding to discussion questions designed to help them get comfortable sharing. Soon, volunteers will pair up with particular inmates to begin the pre-release mentoring phase of the program that focuses on life skills and spiritual maturity. A one-year post-release phase will continue the mentoring relationships developed at Campbell.These days, at half past six on Wednesday nights, Beaver and seven other volunteers from St. John’s gather in the church parking lot. Together they ride out to Campbell Pre-Release Center, a low-security facility where inmates stay on nights and weekends while working at jobs on the outside.
Blessed in Blessing
“It’s making a difference in [the volunteers’] lives, and hopefully in [the prisoners’], too,” says Beaver. Another volunteer from St. John’s has written, “You may have heard me say before that probably the last thing I ever wanted to do was visit with men in prison. I don’t feel that way anymore. I doubt if I am any help to these men, but they have helped me and I am touched by them and impressed with their love of our Lord and knowledge of the Word.”
Beaver also reaps encouragement from the faith of prisoners who express gratitude to God for their imprisonment, because it interrupted lifestyles of sin and gave them the chance to start again. Their courage lends him perspective. “I think I’ve got problems,” he says. “But I don’t know what a problem is until I hear their stories. Some of them come from . . . my Lord, horrible circumstances. That’s inspirational for anybody to see that their faith has brought them out.”
Lessons Learned
The Onesimus Project has faced its share of setbacks; after learning some difficult start-up lessons at another facility, the team came to Campbell to try again. Now, says Beaver, “I think we’re making great progress.” And while it may be hard to gauge in these early days how large a difference the volunteers are making at Campbell, he has the optimism of a farmer sowing crops. “I think it’s good for [the prisoners] to see God working through us, who don’t know them from anything. We plant the seed. It’s God who makes it grow.”
Even the setbacks have prepared him to deal with the struggles of released inmates who flounder in their early freedom. “There are going to be a lot more disappointments than successes, and you got to be prepared for that. I’m a parent. With children, there are successes and failures—even with the same children!—and this is not too much different than that.”
Fishers of Men
As the members of the St. John’s men’s group respond to the call of prison ministry, they’ve gone from holding fish-fries to becoming fishers of men. Now that a firm foundation has been laid, Beaver—the oldest among them—wants to bring in other, younger volunteers to continue the charge. At a vestry board meeting this August, he plans to make an appeal for additional mentors to fuel his dream of doubling the capacity of the Onesimus Project at Campbell.
Beaver admits that the time commitment fazes some potential recruits, but he hopes that fear will hamper no one.
“It’s kind of a chilling feeling when those gates slam behind you [the first time],” he says. “But I never feel unsafe. Danger’s not a factor anymore . . . I would encourage anyone who’s interested to put a toe in.” Beaver deemed it safe for one of his released mentees to visit his home, meet his wife, and eat supper.
Beaver adds, “We’ve even been fishing.”