A prisoner I’ll call Jared is getting ready to be one of the first graduates of a new Prison Fellowship pre-release unit. This is his third time behind bars. He has spent most of his life as a drug dealer and a petty thief, governed by that troublesome four-letter word: self.

It was like a prison from a Hollywood film set: thick limestone walls pocked with small windows; dark, oppressive cells; and narrow corridors full of musty, unmoving air …

As I passed through many layers of security and entered the cell block, I could feel the oppression of hopelessness surrounding me.

The son of some dear friends of mine died recently, and they asked me to speak at the service honoring his life. In nearly three decades as a pastor, I was called upon many times to offer words of hope and consolation to families and friends who were grieving.

When fear and insecurity fill our hearts, we respond with selfish indifference to the needs of our neighbors. But when faith rules our lives, when we have wrestled with God and found Him true, we become secure in His ability to care for us, and we cease to doubt and fear.

A couple weeks ago I got to teach at Christ United Methodist Church in Texas. It was a thrill! The church meets in a beautiful building with dazzling stained glass and a gleaming organ. The angel-voiced choir was dressed all in white – but then, these particular singers, who are members of the InnerChange Freedom Initiative values-based reentry program at the Carol Vance Unit, are always dressed in white; that’s the color of their prison uniforms.

The world moves fast, doesn’t it? We’re always making another to-do list, reading another best-selling leadership book, and doing more. We buy things that promise to make us faster and more efficient – things that will let us be in a business meeting and at the dinner table at the same time.

Just 445 words long, Paul’s shortest New Testament letter is to a man named Philemon, a well-to-do merchant in the garrison town of Colosse, who was also a leader in the Christian church there. He was a businessman, a family man, and someone respected among the community of believers.

So many of the letters we get from prisoners start out the same: “I hope someone reads this …,” “I don’t have anyone left out there …,” or “I haven’t received a visit or a letter in years. I’m hoping you will help me know God …”

But the letter from Joe, a long-time prisoner in Virginia, was different.

Sometimes God uses a broken person to fix a city. When God gave Nehemiah the vision to rebuild Jerusalem, he was in exile. He was a captive. He was bent under the weight of anguish. But that brokenness was the raw material God used to send him back to the City of Zion and restore it – and its people.

I stood on a train platform on a cold day in Texas, looking at the map and trying to find the route to my destination. A stranger introduced himself as Marcus and gave me directions.

Feeling a nudge from the Holy Spirit, I asked Marcus if I could buy him a cup of coffee at a nearby fast food restaurant.

I couldn’t believe my ears.

I was at a prison where the warden was giving several other wardens and me a tour of the grounds. We met his staff and then sat down with about two dozen prisoners enrolled in Prisoners to Pastors, a seminary-level training program that prepares Jesus-following inmates to be leaders behind bars and when they return to the community.

A popular worship anthem by songwriter Brooke Fraser says, “Lead me to the cross where Your love poured out/ Bring me to my knees, Lord, I lay me down/ Rid me of myself, I belong to You.”

These words are easy to sing, but hard to live.

New Year’s resolutions tend to focus on self-improvement. Lots of us are going to give up television or take on a new exercise program. Most resolutions are all about chipping away at some aspect of our imperfection.

There’s nothing wrong with improvement.

When our kids were growing up, Christmas was a joyful, relaxing time for our family. Our son and daughter would look forward to the Christmas break with increasing excitement as the days got shorter and darker.

But imagine, instead, a child who dreads Christmas.

I’ve been to lots of prisons, but this past week was a first: I saw the hula being doing behind bars!

I had the privilege of going to Saguaro Correctional Facility to visit inmates who are from Hawaii, but are doing their time in Arizona.