wfn.org | Iowa churches minister to those in chains

[NewsDesk <NewsDesk@UMCOM.UMC.ORG>]

March 14, 2000  News media contact: Tim Tanton·(615)742-5470·Nashville,
Tenn.  10-71B{139}

A UMNS News Feature
By Joan M. Bundy*

Just as Jesus sought out those in chains, United Methodists are reaching
behind bars to lend prisoners comfort and tell the news of God's saving
grace.
 
In Iowa, for example, a number of prison outreach efforts are taking place,
led by ministers and laypeople alike.

Witness:
·	Members of St. Luke's United Methodist Church in Newton have been
assisting with worship services at the women's prison in Mitchellville for
nearly a decade and a half, and now also are joining an ecumenical effort to
establish a "sacred place" for inmates to worship.
·	Bob Patton of Wayland, a part-time lay minister for three United
Methodist churches and a student to become a "lay missioner" through the
Iowa Conference's new School for Lay Ministry, leads the "New Life Church"
at the men's correctional facility in Mount Pleasant. He and other
like-minded volunteers also are forming a statewide ecumenical group for
male inmates called "Brothers in Blue."
·	Don Johnson of Cedar Rapids, who also is attending the Iowa
Conference's School for Lay Ministry, assists with prison ministry at the
Linn County Correctional Facility in Cedar Rapids.

The list goes on.

What is it like going behind the barbed wire?

"It's an eerie feeling the first time you come in ... when you hear that
gate unlock and the guard locks it behind you and opens another door and you
come in," says Rose South, a member of St. Luke's and one of its original
prison ministry volunteers.

South, also a member of the Mitchellville prison's Religious Advisory
Council, first visited the facility about 15 years ago with fellow church
members on a tour led by an inmate.

"We were so inspired when this woman took us through and told us about her
life and what she was going through and hoping to accomplish," South says.
The group decided to get involved. "I felt it was something I could do and
our church could do to let women in prison know that people do care about
them, and that religion is important and there is hope for them."

South keeps going back. "We always feel better than when we went," she says,
"and when you come out, you really are thankful for your freedom."

Johnson, a member of New Creation United Methodist Church in Cedar Rapids,
recalls his first visit to that city's jail. "The jail is on an island in
the Cedar River, and you have to walk down a scary alley along the river to
get there. I was very afraid, probably partly because I didn't want to be
going there, but I was fine once I got to the jail."

He hasn't been able to stop going since and hopes eventually to make a
career of serving the imprisoned. One Sunday a month Johnson helps with
worship services, and he also leads a weekly Saturday morning Bible study,
which he says is really "a faith support group."

Like South, Johnson says he gets back more than he gives. He relates the
story of a man who was serving time in the federal penitentiary system for a
crime that carried a maximum sentence of life. The man's final appeal had
been denied last fall, and he was waiting to be sentenced (inmates' average
stay at the Linn County Jail is six months to a year, often while awaiting
trial or sentencing).

"He was pretty much at peace with whatever was going to happen; he knew God
had a purpose for (him)," Johnson says. Then, to Johnson's amazement, the
judge sentenced the prisoner to only 35 more years.

Patton tells of a seventh-generation criminal who actually felt more
comfortable on the "inside" than on the "outside." "He was just thankful
that at least he didn't commit murder like the six previous generations,
just burglary," Patton says.

Even so, the man said he hoped the criminal chain would end with his child.
Patton hopes so too; that is why he is considering forming a Christian camp
devoted to the children of inmates.

Meanwhile, Patton also is working with the "Brothers in Blue" group to
expand the geographical scope of "Via De Christos," a Lutheran-based
Christian outreach retreat held twice yearly at both the Mount Pleasant and
Rockwell City men's correctional facilities. Four will be added soon at
Newton and two at Fort Dodge.

The Via De Christos events involve people from society at large going behind
bars to join eligible, electing inmates in an extended weekend of
inspiration and learning. "We go in on Thursday around noon and stay all
weekend," Patton says. "We even eat meals with the inmates. We only leave at
night to sleep."

Sessions usually include about 15 clergy and lay speakers discussing basic
tenets of Christianity and explaining common terms, traditions and symbols.
Patton has found most inmates are genuinely interested and refreshingly
honest.

"You know where they're at (on the inside), and they know where you're at
(on the outside), so you find less conning and more honesty. ... You go in
thinking you're taking something (to the inmates) and you come out with more
than you took."

The staff at the Mount Pleasant correctional facility reports a positive
difference in inmates long after a Via De Christos weekend ends, Patton
says. Demand for Christian religious activities has increased so much that a
new congregation formed by Patton last January already has 50 to 60 inmates.
He also dreams of creating an inmates' choir to sing at the monthly
services.

Since most of the women at the Mitchellville prison are not serving life
sentences, the St. Luke's group tries to get prisoners to focus not only on
the after-life but also life after prison. The St. Luke's group attempts to
reassure inmates that they will have a place in a church family after they
are released.

"We had one woman ask about our church," South recalls. "She was going to be
paroled, and she wanted to know if she could come to our church since she
was white and was married to a black man and wondered if that would make any
difference. (Church members) assured her she would be welcome to join our
church."

South is convinced her group is making a difference, even for the "lifers."
"We feel like there has been a change in the women since we started," she
says.

Most women who have attended one service return, and many become regular
attendees. A few of the women appear to have ulterior motives - like
catching a smoke in the yard on their way to the service and back,
interacting with fellow prisoners or just getting out of their cells for
awhile - and "some used to giggle," South says. However, "now most seem more
serious or at least attentive," she says.

The volunteers aren't allowed any contact with inmates or ex-inmates outside
the services, but they do get positive feedback during their time together. 

"They are so appreciative," South says of the inmates. "There used to be a
policy that you could not touch the prisoners. Now you can touch. We shake
their hands and tell them to come back next time. ... We feel like if we
have reached one woman, it has been worthwhile."
# # #
*Bundy is a free-lance writer based in Des Moines, Iowa.

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United Methodist News Service
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