Maximum security cell block—Oregon State Penitentiary, summer of 1987. It was noisy and chaotic, but my fellow branch church member—a Christian Science healer and chaplain—moved along, cell by cell, with great calm. And step by step I followed him as he reached out to the prisoners: “How have things been going since last time?” “You’re new here, right?” “Would you like a Sentinel?” His presence brought a beam of hope and peace to an environment that seemed anguished and forsaken—he just walked right up to those bars and loved those guys.
I’ll never forget how gratefully those inmates responded to his unconditional love. “It’s been kind of tough, chaplain.” “Would you pray with me?” “Do you have a few minutes to talk?” And my friend did pray with them. He assured them that they were innocent in God’s eyes. That doesn’t mean he ignored the crimes that brought the inmates to their long-term incarceration, but with the Christ activity infinitely alive and active—inside those walls as well as outside—he affirmed a spiritual reality that many of them could not grasp for themselves.
After moving to Illinois a year later, and with my church comrade as inspiration, I joined my branch church’s Institutional Committee and applied for chaplain status through the State Committee (which manages the activities of Christian Science chaplains). I began conducting Christian Science services at a nearby mental institution, and soon became aware of visit requests from inmates incarcerated in the numerous downstate prisons. From my Oregon mentor’s example, I knew that Christian Science could comfort and heal in a place where there is little hope of redemption.
