One Sunday morning in November 2008, Edwin Wolff penned in his journal: “One year from now, I want to have a stable job, a vehicle, and be published on some national level.”
Two months earlier—on September 12—Edwin walked out of the Huntsville Unit prison in Huntsville, Texas. His sister, brother-in-law, and Hurricane Ike were waiting for him. Despite the impending storm, Edwin couldn’t help but savor the freshness of his freedom. “It was the first time in 20 years I had seen the outside without razor wires and gun towers,” he said.
In 1988, arrested on assault charges, Edwin was forced to abandon his promising career in the military and trade in his Army uniform for prison garb. Looking back on his prison life, Edwin is clear-headed: “When I get asked questions . . . my standard answer is, ‘All things work together for good . . . it doesn’t say all things are good.’ ”
During the two-decade span of his incarceration, Edwin earned several degrees—including a master’s degree in humanities and 18 hours of graduate work in English (contributing to his interest in writing)—and at least four certificates for attending Prison Fellowship seminars. He met a lot of Prison Fellowship volunteers, too. “You are in there for 20 years—you’ve met every volunteer in the state,” Edwin joked.
An Outside Connection
Although Edwin was first eligible for parole in 1993, it wasn’t until that stormy day in 2008 that he walked free. Before being released, he began writing letters—lots of them—to ministries in his home state of Michigan. But he heard back from only one: Prison Fellowship Michigan. PF staff promised to help him out once he came home.
Waylaid in a hotel for a few nights because of the hurricane, Edwin flew home to Eastpointe, Michigan, and moved in with his mom. That Friday, he got a call from a family member telling him that several relatives had taken a vote not to invite him to the family Christmas party. Deflated, Edwin picked up the phone the following Monday and called the only number he had: the Prison Fellowship office in Grand Rapids.
Prison Fellowship Michigan’s Executive Director Mary Engle answered the phone.
“I’m having a bad day,” Edwin confided.
Mary assured Edwin that God was not surprised by the phone call he’d received and that God was still in control. Then Mary connected Edwin with PF Field Director Denise Harris and her husband, Rufus. Within weeks, Edwin had received an invitation from the Harrises to join them at a conference for ex-prisoners in Muskegon.
On November 15, after picking Edwin up at his house, the Harrises pulled into a Wendy’s for dinner. Denise and Rufus already knew what they wanted and ordered quickly. Edwin just stood there.
“I looked at all these choices, and I just couldn’t decide . . . it had been a long time since somebody had asked [me], ‘What would you like to eat?’ ” Edwin explained.
He finally ordered what Rufus and Denise were having.
Once at the conference center, Edwin couldn’t help noticing the attitudes of the volunteers and retreat staff: “In prison most people were trying to take something away from me. On that weekend, everyone was trying to give me something.”
Edwin returned home from the weekend gathering inspired, and with two new friends at his side.
“One of the things we did recognize about Edwin—was that he was not like a baby Christian coming out of prison,” said Rufus, who works in information technology and volunteers with Prison Fellowship. “It was obvious that while in prison he was ministering to people.”
Stepping Out with Support
Still, despite Edwin’s spiritual maturity, he had a long way to go to find his footing back in the real world. He still didn’t have a job, a car, or a place of his own. Rufus decided to take him under his wing.
Meanwhile, Edwin had reconnected with Faith Baptist Church, the church he had attended as a youth. Through the pastor, he found part-time work shoveling snow during the winter.
Several months later, the pastor connected him with the owner of a local convenience store. A month after getting hired, Edwin was handed the keys to the store and promoted to night-shift manager. Then two weeks later, the head of the deacons committee at Faith hired him to coordinate maintenance of the church.
“Here I am, in a state with [one of the highest] unemployment [rates] in the nation, and I have so many work opportunities I don’t know what to do with them.”
In June 2009 he bought a Ford Ranger for $2,000—the exact amount he had made shoveling snow.
These days, Rufus still checks in with Edwin frequently and is consistently impressed with his confidence and maturity. “You wouldn’t know that there are 20 years missing out of this man’s life,” he said.
Rufus also discovered that Edwin has been writing letters to men he knew in prison, mentoring them from afar. So Rufus introduced Edwin to another young man who had recently been released from prison and struggled with some “anger issues.” Since Edwin began meeting with the young man, “things are better” for the man and his family, Rufus explained.
With several steady jobs and a good vehicle, Edwin had only one thing left on his list. Last summer, he accomplished his final goal: He was “published” in Zondervan’s first ever handwritten Bible—writing out one of the verses.