“Remember those in prison, as if you were there yourself.” ~ Hebrews 13:3
At 37, two things occurred that would change Ruth’s life
forever: her marriage ended, and she committed a crime so unspeakable that it
resulted in a life sentence without parole.
During the early
years of her incarceration, she felt lost, stripped of identity and purpose.
Her marriage ended. She lost custody of her three children. Former friends
disappeared. She was confined to a cell with only a tiny sliver of daylight
slipping through the vent above. In truth, she needed no guards or bars. Shame
and regret were prison enough.
No longer a cocky,
violent victimizer, she remembers the gates closing behind her more than four
decades ago. Stripped of all possessions, freedom, and dignity, she enrolled in
every program offered, from Bible studies and chapel services to educational courses
and counseling sessions. Later, she would admit to mostly “going
through the motions.” Something was still missing.
“I had no plan, no
purpose, since I’d been deemed too dangerous to ever be released,” Ruth said.
There, potential mentors
study a biblically grounded curriculum built on “Good Citizenship Values”- integrity,
community, productivity, restoration, responsibility, and affirmation. It seemed a natural fit.
Though she has six
grandkids she has never met, Ruth became a “grandmother” inside those walls.
Women sought her out for a listening ear, steady guidance, and truth spoken
with both kindness and firmness.
Having graduated
from the Academy eleven years ago, Ruth speaks openly about the chains that
once bound her - anger, pride, denial. In helping others name their struggles,
she found freedom from decades of buried pain and grief.
Many of Ruth’s
mentees have completed their sentences and been granted parole. Yet not every
woman succeeds on the outside.
One such woman
broke Ruth’s heart. After serving her time, she reconnected with old influences
and made choices that led her back behind bars. When the gates clanged shut
again, shame wrapped around her like a shroud.
She expected
judgment. Distance. Instead, she found Ruth waiting.
Ruth didn’t excuse
the wrongdoing, nor did she soften the truth. But she opened her arms and her
heart. “We all make mistakes,” she told her. “What matters is what we do
next.”
She helped her mentee
begin again. They revisited the lessons of responsibility and restoration. They
prayed. They talked through the patterns that led her back. Ruth reminded her
that failure is not final, and that repentance is not a one-time act but a
daily surrender.
For Christians,
transformation is rarely a straight line. Sometimes, His will looks like
opening the door for someone who has fallen... again.
