PRISON FELLOWSHIP BLOG: Advocacy & Reentry

“Justice that restores. What does that mean?  Who are we restoring? Where are we restoring them to?”

Prison Fellowship President and CEO James Ackerman asks these questions to a recent gathering of volunteers in Tampa, Florida. The answer, he suggests, can be found in the words of the prophet Isaiah: “Learn to do right.

Once a hell-bent prodigal, Eric is now bent on staying faithful in the small things, serving as a leader in is church, and being a consistent presence in his kids’ lives.

For Prison Fellowship Vice President of Advocacy and Public Policy Craig DeRoche, justice reform is more than a job, it’s a passion developed from personal experience.

At the age of 34, DeRoche was elected Speaker of the House in the Michigan State Legislature—the youngest person to ever hold that position.

When Dr. James Gilligan started work as a prison psychiatrist in a medium-security facility in Massachusetts, he took with him a pre-formed perspective on the men he would be treating.

“I had been taught up to that point that violent criminals were untreatable sociopaths, that they would manipulate you,” he remembers.

“What happens after the 50th landlord tells you that you can’t rent an apartment because of your record, or the 50th employer explains that their company doesn’t hire ‘felons’?”

Christopher Poulos, executive director of Life of Purpose Treatment at the University of North Texas, asks this in a piece for The Bangor Daily News.

When applicants to one of the State University of New York’s (SUNY) 64 campuses apply for admission, they are required to answer question 20a: “Have you ever been convicted of a felony?” The question has proven to be a major hurdle for men and women with criminal records, with three of five of such applicants dropping out of the application process before reaching its conclusion.

The Book of Philemon is too often overlooked when reading through the New Testament. A mere 25 verses long, the short letter by the Apostle Paul to a wealthy leader of the Church in Colossae is easy to flip past when searching for Hebrews, James, or Revelation.

“As a country we are really good at punishment.”  So says Danielle Sared, director of the Common Justice program at the Vera Institute of Justice. “It’s passive, it doesn’t require people to act or think. It certainly doesn’t require them to change.

Zane Tankel knows what it means to have a second chance.

The now-75 year old remembers growing up in a tough neighborhood in Patterson, New Jersey. A self-described “tough guy,” Tankel regularly skipped school, learning to fight, steal, and intimidate. “I went away for a little while as a kid,” he admits.

Former prisoner Will Avila had a dream to help others in the reentry community. Will founded Clean Decisions, a professional-grade cleaning company providing work for returning citizens. His dream became a reality for people like Carlos Tyler and Charles Binion, who both had the chance to meet Will shortly after leaving prison.

Christianity Today dedicated its September issue to the topic of evangelicals and their ministry to those impacted by crime and incarceration. One excellent article–How Churches Change the Equation for Life After Prison–highlighted the fact that over the past several decades, Christians have entered the arena of prison ministry in hordes, but their focus has been largely on evangelism and discipleship–impact on an individual and heart level–while areas like reentry and criminal justice reform have been largely untouched.

Most people know John Legend as a 10-time Grammy Award-winning singer and songwriter with a smooth, soulful delivery of R&B ballads with thoughtful lyrics and a timeless sound. But for men and women who are trapped in a cycle of crime and incarceration, Legend is more than just a musician—he is an advocate, supporter, and ally in working for change in the criminal justice system.

For youth in Virginia’s juvenile justice system, incarceration has too often meant being held in large, overcrowded facilities far away from their families and support networks. This approach has led to high recidivism rates in the state, and a lack of hope for those stuck in a cycle of crime.