PRISON FELLOWSHIP BLOG

Debbie Walsh cannot remember the first time she met volunteer Robert Ramos. But that, she says, merely demonstrates his soft-spoken, unassuming demeanor. When this former prisoner shared his testimony during Operation Starting Line (OSL) in-prison evangelistic events, “men and women listened intently,” says OSL organizer Debbie, “for his story was told in a straightforward, unembellished way.”

Have you been looking for a way to gently ease your church into prison ministry? A way to involve others who might not yet be ready to volunteer inside a prison or work directly with released prisoners?

A way to give others just a taste of reaching out to prisoners that may whet their appetite for more?

Tony Davis never thought he would appear on a panel about employing ex-offenders at an Out4Life Reentry Summit for coalition members, but he’s well-qualified.

On most days Tony, 32, works outdoors with his five-man auto maintenance crew in the sweltering heat of Sulphur, Louisiana.

Shipyard training manager Sterling Dolese was skeptical about taking part in a work-release program from a local correctional institution.  The results have exceeded all expectations.

From the shipyard at Avondale, just outside of New Orleans, ring the steel-on-steel sounds of progress.

Joan Fabian has served in county and state corrections for 45 years, the last seven as Commissioner of the Minnesota Department of Corrections. In May the Minnesota DOC joined with Prison Fellowship in co-sponsoring an Out4Life Conference in Minneapolis as a springboard to establishing coalitions throughout the state to assist prisoners returning to their communities.

The House of Representatives may have an opportunity to address the unfairness of the current 100-to-1 disparity between crack- and powder-cocaine sentencing. I hope the House joins the Senate in passing S. 1789, which would dramatically reduce the disparity in punishments between crack- and powder-cocaine offenses.

One of the greatest issues currently facing America’s communities is the reintegration of 650,000 former prisoners over the next year. The most hopeful response that I have seen to this dilemma has been the movement around the nation that engages communities to work together through coalitions that serve the needs of these returning men and women.

It is a sunny, pleasant day in Charlotte, North Carolina, and almost all the inmates held at the minimum-security prison have eagerly congregated on the green hillside for one reason: the opportunity to meet former Washington Redskins coach and NASCAR racing team owner Joe Gibbs.

Tony Chantaca, 16, jumped from the stolen car in the wash of flashing blue lights. Mind clouded with inhalants, legs pumping against the asphalt, he ran. A policeman, hot behind him, sprang and tackled the teenager to the ground. Tony fought to pry the officer’s gun from its holster.

Not long ago, New York Times editorialist Anthony Thompson asked an interesting question: “When do communities want prisoners in their backyard?”

The answer: when it’s census-taking time.

The reason for this sudden reversal of the commonplace NIMBY (not in my backyard) position has to do with money—a lot of it.