What Do We Deserve?

This afternoon I helped another prisoner prepare for an upcoming parole board interview. I "acted" as a parole board member, peppering this prisoner with questions about his crime, his motivations, his prison record, the lessons he's learned, and a host of other questions. At times my questions are anticipated and prepared for. Other times my questions are designed to fluster or trip up the prisoner, getting him ready for the eventual stress of his actual interview. I've been helping other prisoners prepare for their parole interviews off and on for the last five years. It's been one of the toughest things I've done in prison. 

Putting myself in the role of a parole board member forces me to think about crimes, my own and others', from a victim's perspective. It makes me think about what the families of murder victims experience. It makes me think about how it feels to be robbed or raped at gunpoint. It makes me think deeply about what it means to lose one's innocence, to be angry about being victimized, to experience terror, fear, and mistrust because of what someone else has done. Putting myself in this role is deeply humbling. It's also deeply troubling. I cannot leave one of these interviews without feeling sad and terribly burdened. 

I didn't think clearly about the impact my crime would have on others, especially on those I love. I didn't consider how my actions would have such far reaching affects, not only on those I harmed, but on so many others as well. But I think about it now--every day. Thinking about the harm I caused is painful, and entering into another prisoner's story of doing harm just deepens that pain. But it must be done. Our victims never chose the pain and harm we caused them.

Inevitably, in the course of conducting a practice parole interview, I will ask the prisoner why he believes he deserves to be released from prison. I ask this question because so many prisoners have an overblown sense of entitlement, and I'm testing whether or not the person feels entitled to freedom. This question is tricky, because it intersects the philosophical questions of crime and punishment (on which every prisoner has an opinion) with the conflict between entitlement and empathy. True empathy, especially when one's crime caused another person harm that can't be repaired, recognizes that a parole has very little to do with "deserving." Very few of us "deserve" anything, especially freedom. 

Nevertheless, the reality is that some prisoners have come to acutely understand the harm they caused. They have worked to change their thinking, and as a result their behavior. Some prisoners are anxious to make right the wrongs they've caused, either directly to their victims or victim's family, or indirectly through helping heal others' brokenness. Keeping these prisoners locked up because we're angry with them does little to solve anything. The question, then, becomes not whether or not the prisoner "deserves" freedom, but whether or not it is just to keep someone locked up who is no longer a danger. 

I'm glad I don't have to make these decisions, that I'm only "pretending" to be a parole board member. But I'm also glad that I'm able to think deeply, and help others do the same, about the consequences of the harm we've caused and what obligations we now have because of those terrible choices we've made.

Merry Christmas!

This past Thursday was the last of my college classes in what has been a long year. I'm so grateful that as a prisoner I am blessed to earn a college degree in prison through the Calvin Prison Initiative. I'm also grateful for the generosity of the donors, and the staff and professors who make it possible. Earning a college degree is a major accomplishment for anyone, and to leave prison having earned a degree will be a major triumph. 

Still, I'm very grateful to have a six week break to regroup and rest. This holiday season I will be working out, enjoying reading for fun, writing, and hopefully playing Scrabble. 

Tomorrow night is our Christmas program at Celebration Fellowship. There will be a play put on by prisoners, readings, and our choir will be performing several holiday songs. I'm privileged to be singing a small solo part in "African Noel" this year. None of these things would likely be happening without the wonderful people who come in every week to worship with us, and who make a point of helping us to feel a little bit normal every Monday night. Their dedication and love are great gifts to us men on the inside. 

As you celebrate the holidays in your own way this year, look for ways to make someone else's day a little brighter. A kind word, a smile, or even a small gift can go a long way to giving people hope. Merry Christmas to each of you, and may God bless you with peace and joy!

Don't Look for Justice from Those in Power

I've stayed away from political issues on this blog for a reason. Issues of incarceration affect people from all political belief systems, and ideas to fix the problem must also come from all sides. Some political persuasions may hold tough on crime views that give little heed to why people commit crimes. Others might diminish the importance of personal accountability to the point that it offends victims of crime. Balancing these viewpoints is difficult because people's lives are at stake, but it must be done. Nevertheless, those tasked with such important work hardly inspire confidence. 

Painting every politician with a broad brush is, perhaps, unfair, but it is difficult to count on our political leaders to find solutions to crime and mass incarceration that balance justice with mercy. It is difficult to imagine equitable solutions coming from political bodies that are blind to their own duplicity and whose members think their own unjust behavior is just. 

When one political party sacrifices due process for swift "justice" (during impeachment) and then condemns the other side for planning the same, how can we expect fair solutions to complex criminal justice issues? When laws are not applied to people in power, but they are enforced on people who have no power, how can we expect just laws that are equitable? When due process is ignored in the most public of justice probes, how can people accused of crimes in less public venues expect fairly employed due process? When justice is defined so differently by people in power, how can people who suffer the effects of crime expect to experience justice? 

Our country's founders established this country with three branches of government to ensure that each held the other accountable for their decisions and actions. But the courts routinely ignore the proper application of laws, and then justify their actions as "harmless error," despite the harm it causes those accused of crimes. Prosecutors, who are members of the court, routinely break the law by withholding or manufacturing evidence, but they are protected by immunity from prosecution. Sadly, our executive and legislative branches lack the moral grounding to hold the courts (or each other) accountable because of their own failures to follow the law. 

Most of the people in prison are there because they broke the law. Justice demands accountability. But "justice" and "accountability" are difficult to define because our nation lacks political leaders who exemplify either in their own lives. Prisoners are expected to learn how to hold themselves accountable, but the highest reaches of government fail to provide a model of personal accountability. Prisoners are expected to learn pro-social behaviors, but political backstabbing and mudslinging by those who write and "enforce" the laws provide little inspiration to follow. 

Many prisoners are broken people who come from lives and social influences filled with brokenness. Honesty, integrity, accountability, and justice are all excellent things to strive for as a means of repairing that brokenness. But if we are to have examples to follow, it must come from somewhere other than from those who claim to be bastions of justice. Instead, we must look to those who quietly provide examples by showing us what it means to live honest lives of integrity. We must look to those who hold themselves accountable and for whom justice is a way of life, not a politically convenient catchphrase that has no personal relevance in their own lives. 

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How to Minister to Children of Incarcerated Parents

Years ago I had a brother who (ironically) worked for Prison Fellowship, the prison ministry started by formerly disgraced presidential counsel, Chuck Colson. Through my brother and the church I attended at the time, I became aware of a holiday ministry to the children of incarcerated parents. The Angel Tree project connects local church congregations with children in their communities who have a parent in prison, enabling the church-goer to purchase gifts for the children. From what I remember, "ornaments" hanging on a tree in the church lobby would contain the gender and age of a child, along with a few items the child wishes for. Church members would purchase gifts for the children, but meeting the children was not automatic. It sometimes felt like an impersonal way to minister to needs, like dropping money in an offering plate. 

My own family participated in this ministry for a couple of years, but we were able to meet the children. It was a great joy for us to bless three young children in one family, even having them and their mother to our house one night for dinner. It was a way for our family to decenter ourselves from our own material desires during the holidays, recognizing how blessed we already were and choosing to share those blessings with others. 

Angel Tree is a wonderful ministry; however, now having the perspective of a prisoner, I recognize just how many devastating consequences children of incarcerated parents experience. Struggles during the holidays are just the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. These children often experience significantly higher risks of failing in school, experiencing bullying and abuse, living in poverty, and, sadly, also committing crimes in the future. 

Ministries to children of incarcerated parents, like Angel Tree, are wonderful interventions in these children's lives, but the vast majority suffer in silence. Other organizations, like Big Brother Big Sister and others, attempt to intervene with after-school tutoring and connecting children with adult mentors. But much more can be done. Many incarcerated men, and probably women, are unable to be active in their children's lives because of obstruction of the children's caretakers. Whether children end up in foster care, are in the care of relatives, or even in the care of a parent, their incarcerated parent often has no power to ensure they stay in their children's lives. Both the parent and their children end up suffering for it. 

Sadly, it is the choices of the incarcerated parents that cause such harm to their children in the first place, but their children suffer doubly when they are kept from parents who love them. Blessing children who have a parent in prison by buying them gifts is wonderful, but if you really want to help, get involved in their lives. Help them succeed in school, navigate the confusing world of having a parent in prison, and avoid bullying and abuse that so many suffer from. Help meet their physical needs and learn to avoid making poor choices that will lead them down the same paths their parent took. And if possible, help them connect with their parent in prison. It could be the greatest gift you'll ever give them.

You Said You Wanted Another Chance...

Years ago I had a pastor whose favorite movie was "Groundhog Day." He loved the movie so much that it was his most frequent sermon illustration. I've never seen the whole thing because ten minutes was enough for me to get the gist. Plus, the movie's type of humor isn't appealing to me. What I never considered was that one day I'd be living my own version of Groundhog Day. Prison days have a way of repeating themselves, over and over again. 

I like routine--I tend to be very scheduled and organized--but I also like the freedom to choose variety. Nevertheless, there's a certain security to having a routine. You know what to expect. But beauty and joy are more often found in the interruptions, the unexpected. Prison provides some unexpected moments, some beautiful and some not. But more often, every day, almost every moment, is predictable. 

Routine provides the framework for discipline. It's probably why the military uses strict routines when they are training their troops. Prisoners, also, can benefit from routine by using the predictability to develop disciplines in their lives. But routine can also create unreasonable expectations. For example, any interruptions in routine regularly set prisoners off into a frenzied anxiety. If chow is running late, count goes long, we have an unscheduled emergency count, or an ambulance stops all yard movements, anxiety skyrockets. 

When anxiety rises in prison, people start acting stupid. Tempers are short, patience is low, arguments escalate quickly, fights sometimes happen, and prisoners and officers start saying stupid things to each other. Even the response to interruptions in routine are, well, routine. Holidays, also predictably, add to anxiety prisoners feel as they are absent from those they love. 

Perhaps it's human nature to love routine. There's a certain comfort in knowing what comes next. Since many prisoners don't know what their futures hold, the routine of prison life can have a settling effect. But the routine can also lull prisoners into complacency. If you get too comfortable with routine, you don't know how to handle change. And change is, perhaps, the most consistent thing about a prisoner's life, especially once he leaves prison. 

Learning how to deal with unexpected changes and interruptions is one of the many skills prisoners can learn and bring with them into the free world. Nevertheless, it takes high self-awareness to understand when interruptions are increasing your anxiety. It also takes self-regulation to learn effective ways of coping when things don't go your way. Both self-awareness and self-regulation are the main components of emotional intelligence. They both also happen to be predictable measures of whether a prisoner will successfully remain crime-free after release or return to prison. 

Most prisoners--let's be honest, most people in general--don't get it right every time. We're not always self-aware, and we don't always regulate ourselves very well. But one benefit prison provides is that if you don't get it right today, there's always nearly the same scenario tomorrow to try again.