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THE PRODIGAL SON RETURNS
Rusty left a strong family behind for a life of crime. God’s grace brought him home—and to ministry in prison.
By Josiah Hemp
“I wanted to fight them every time,” Rusty says, describing his arrests. “I wanted someone to shoot me.”
Rusty wanted the arresting officers to think that he was going to hurt them, but they never took the bait.
Rusty wandered far away from home on a long, violent, and chaotic road. It wasn’t where he and his family thought he would go in life.
RUSTY'S CHILDHOOD
“I didn't know there was such thing as a dysfunctional family,” Rusty says. “That’s how good my childhood was.”
Rusty’s dad was a county sheriff, and his mom was a third-grade schoolteacher. In southeast Oklahoma, they lived a middle-class lifestyle.
“I had a great family,” Rusty says.
They went on camping trips and vacations every year, and Rusty played every sport he wanted to. He excelled at whatever he put his mind to, whether it was his local FFA chapter or as captain of the football team.
“My mom and dad were the best,” Rusty says. “They raised me right, taught me how to respect people, taught me how to do the right things, taught me how to … earn what I get.”
His childhood presented him with many opportunities for success, “so the choices I made were devastating,” Rusty says. “To come from that environment and to make those choices, it's kind of like I cheated the world.”
THE PRODIGAL SON LEAVES HOME
Between his junior and senior years of high school, Rusty went to basic training for the National Guard. When he came back, he thought of himself as a grown man who didn’t need to listen to his parent’s advice.
“I didn't ever need no one to tell me what to do anymore,” Rusty says.
He started drinking and partying, and he led his new friends down that path as well.
“We thought we were the Mafia,” Rusty says.
He walked away from his family, leaving a strong community behind for a different sort of life. He refused to go home and seek forgiveness, continuing down a path of drugs, violence, and crime.
“I call it the other side of the tracks,” Rusty says. “I was rebelling against my family, against anything good.”
His decisions also led to instability in his home life. Rusty married a woman, having two children with her, but he left her. He met another woman, Brandy, and had two children with her.
“There was not a thought in my mind that had life in it,” Rusty says. “There was no future in my life that I could see. There was no hope. There was nothing. I was so evil … there was nothing left in my life that was life. It was all dead. … Every situation I put myself in was chaos and violence.”
He didn’t try to kill himself, but he wanted to die.
He walked away from his family, leaving a strong community behind for a different sort of life.
ENCOUNTERING THE LAW
Rusty lived this way for seven years. He thought he could get away with anything. But in 1997, he received his first drug charge. Then came a felony assault on a police officer and a first-degree burglary charge. With two back-to-back violent crimes and other drug related convictions, he went to prison repeatedly.
“I could never figure out how to get out of prison and live the right life,” Rusty says. “I went from prison back to the life that I'd chosen. But I couldn't forgive myself for the things I'd done.”
"I couldn't forgive myself for the things I'd done.”
—Rusty
RESISTING GRACE
When Rusty arrived in prison for the fourth time, Trevor, his best friend from high school, was serving a life sentence in the same prison. Rusty discovered that Trevor had become a Christian.
“Dude, you weirdo, quit it,” Rusty told him.
Seeing Trevor’s new behavior shocked Rusty. He knew how violent and dangerous he had been, but something was different, and Rusty did not like his friend’s new faith.
Trevor kept sharing the Gospel through a crack in the cell door, but Rusty did not want to believe it.
“When I came in, I was doing the worst I’d ever done in my life,” Rusty says. “I didn’t care; chaos ruled my life.”
In prison, he continued doing drugs and participating in any wrongdoing he could find.
Someone invited him to a weekend ministry event in the prison’s gym. Rusty still didn’t want Christianity, but the prison had been locked down for so long that he decided to attend the event, just to get time out of his cell.
Rusty mentally kept his distance.
“These volunteers in there [were] grinning, smiling, their lips were touching their ears,” Rusty says. “But man, as participants, we weren’t digging it because it was so weird.”
One night during the event, he prayed from his bed, “God, you’re going to need to show me you’re real.”
On the third day, Rusty felt like he was having a heart attack. He felt an intense pressure in the room and a weight on himself. He opened his eyes, looking for a correctional officer to get him medical help.
In front of Rusty, a volunteer was staring at him and crying. Rusty says he saw the love of Christ in the volunteer’s eyes.
“I gave Jesus everything that day,” Rusty says. “God put his kingdom around me after I gave my life to him. He just restored everything, everything that had been taken by the devil.”
LASTING FREEDOM
In 2012, Rusty was released from prison. This time, he wasn’t going back.
He went to a ministry home for his first few months on the outside. There, he learned how to find a job, pay his bills, and live wisely. He paid off around $30,000 in fines—taking responsibility for the first time.
At first, because his relationships with his family had been broken, his church, his reentry program, and Celebrate Recovery provided him with his main source of community.
One day, the mother of two of his kids arrived at the ministry home. She was on drugs, and Rusty was finally sober.
“You gotta get away from me,” Rusty said. “I can't have this in my life. I've changed, and I'm done.”
She responded, “How do you get this God, and I don't get nothing?”
Rusty gave her a phone number someone had given him earlier that day—a number for a women’s ministry home. After calling twice a day for over a month, she got in.
Six months later, Rusty saw her again and realized that she had become a Christian too.
“Give me someone to serve with,” Rusty remembers praying when he first became a Christian. He never dreamed it would be the mother of two of his kids. He married Brandy, and they continue to serve God together today.
“God restored everything,” Rusty says. “My kids, my mom and dad, my grandma, all of them, everybody that I've burnt the bridges with.”
Rusty served in response to hurricanes and tornados with the Southern Baptist Disaster Relief Team, served as Celebrate Recovery Ministry Leader at First Baptist Church-Claremore for eight years, and earned a bachelor’s degree in community counseling. Years of ministry prepared him to serve men in prison.
“God restored everything. My kids, my mom and dad, my grandma, all of them, everybody that I've burnt the bridges with.”
—Rusty
RETURNING TO PRISON—TO SERVE
In April of 2023, Rusty once again walked through the halls of a prison—but this time as a free man and as a Prison Fellowship Academy® manager at Dick Conners Correctional Center in Oklahoma. His friend Trevor, who had led Rusty to Christ, had been the one to let him know about this opportunity for prison ministry.
He arrived early for his first day on the job and parked across the street from the prison. Rusty doubted himself that day. He wondered if he could live up to the task ahead of him but felt God reminding him of a verse.
“Here I am, Lord, send me.”
He entered the prison, and an officer handed him a set of keys.
“Here I am, an ex-incarcerated person, has a set of keys to a whole unit. Six or seven gates, every door in there, I can pop.”
That day, he joined a class filled with Prison Fellowship Academy graduates. Hearing the incarcerated men talking, he knew he was in the right place. “It just made me start crying,” Rusty said.
The Academy uses targeted curriculum, compassionate coaching, and restorative community to transform lives. But many of the men who graduate from the Academy, like these men, still have time left on their sentences. They miss the community that the Academy fosters and are eager to find ways to give back. Within the program for graduates, they receive training and are given opportunities to serve their community.
“I’ve done time in medium yards here in Oklahoma. For me, what’s been the most touching is that God has used someone like me to do something good,” Rusty says.
That day, he joined a class filled with Prison Fellowship Academy graduates. Hearing the incarcerated men talking, he knew he was in the right place.
WORK AS AN ACADEMY MANAGER
Because he knows the culture and vocabulary of prison, Rusty is better able to serve the incarcerated men he works with.
“They don’t connect with many people, and these guys have connected with me,” he says.
He is currently leading his first cohort at the Academy, and the facility is a lockdown facility.
“[There are] hardly any movements. We’re grinding through this,” he says.
Despite the difficulties, the Academy is successfully building community.
For his first year, Rusty was only able to persuade 39 people to sign up for the Academy. But he already has over 150 applications turned in for next year. In a violent and chaotic prison, the incarcerated men see something different in the Academy unit.
“It's because these guys [at the Academy] have learned integrity,” Rusty says.
Rusty teaches classes, leads service projects and community-building events, and meets one on one with the men.
Some of the Academy participants are serving life sentences and have been in prison for over 20 years. Some decided to get out of a gang for the first time, and escaping from gangs left them with physical and emotional scars.
Despite their past, they now want to make a difference. The Academy graduates recently began going into the segregated housing unit (SHU) to minister to the men there.
The SHU is “prison inside the prison,” Rusty said. No TV, radio, or books are allowed inside, and normally no visitors go in. Rusty received special permission to take the academy graduates, themselves prisoners, into the SHU to minister. He now takes five people into the SHU every other week. He said he has more volunteers than he needs because most of them have been in the SHU before and remember the loneliness inside. Through Prison Fellowship®, they now have an opportunity to not only be ministered to, but also to minister to others.
"For me, what’s been the most touching is that God has used someone like me to do something good.”
—Rusty
A CHANGED MAN
Recently, Rusty shared his story at his church. One of Rusty’s previous arresting officers was there, who texted the pastor while Rusty was describing one of his arrests. The pastor got up in the middle of the story and read that text aloud to the congregation.
“It was crazy/powerful,” the text said. “I’ll never forget that arrest the rest of my life because it affected me.”
The officer said Rusty had been violent, crazy, and had known nothing of God. He said he would never forget that arrest, because of how much Rusty had fought him and how mean he looked. He was surprised to see the change in Rusty, and praised God for it, along with the county sheriff who was also there that day.
“They came up to me and got to talk to me,” Rusty says. “They arrested me way more than one or two times. And just to see me where I was now, it was just glorifying God. The whole day glorified God.”
Reflecting on his story, Rusty often describes the change in his life to others like this: “Before I surrendered, I was inmate 261023, a liar, a thief, an adulterer, a drug addict, a deadbeat dad, a mean and violent person. After Jesus took over, I'm Rusty, a friend, a brother, a son, a father, a ministry leader, a good employee, a homeowner, and as far as I know, the best papa in the world. So thank you for listening to my story.”