The Power of Story and Prison Ministry

“If you want someone to hear the truth, you should tell them the truth. If you want someone to love the truth, you should tell them a story,” said author and singer-songwriter Andrew Peterson. Stories are powerful. That’s why Jesus used stories (parables) to teach the most profound truths.

Especially powerful are the stories we believe about ourselves. The kinds of stories we believe about ourselves, and tell ourselves about ourselves, are the most reliable predictors of how our lives will turn out.

Dan McAdams of Northwestern University has studied the power of “narrative identity” for over thirty years. His research shows that people who believe redemption stories about themselves, stories in which they see themselves as people of worth who overcome obstacles and succeed even after being knocked down, are more likely to have meaningful lives and make positive contributions to society. But people who believe contamination stories, stories in which they see themselves as unworthy, as losers and failures, care less about bettering themselves or others and are more prone to anxiety and depression.  

But changing someone’s internal narrative from a contamination story to a redemption story is not easy. It usually takes something more than just telling someone that he should change his story.

I’ve written previously that I grew up with an internal narrative that I was dumb, ugly, and unwanted. Even after I was redeemed by Jesus, studied the Bible, went to seminary, became a pastor, and taught that believers have their true identity as adopted children of the King of kings and Lord of lords, that internal narrative didn’t change.

I learned what the Bible taught, but it remained intellectual only. It didn’t penetrate that contamination story that had taken root in my heart: “You are ugly. You are dumb. You are unwanted.”

What finally changed my internal narrative was when the Biblical truths that I was adopted and loved and had infinite worth as one for whom Jesus died, were incarnated for me by my wife and my pastor’s love and acceptance.

It is that, putting flesh on biblical truths, that may be the most powerful aspect of prison ministry.

Think for a minute about the story that prisoners are told every day, stories that many come to believe about themselves.

“You are worthless. You belong in a cage. You have no dignity. You are not a person you are a number.”

I asked a former prisoner who he was when he had been incarcerated. He immediately said he was E11018. The same former prisoner said to me, “Is it any wonder that people who are treated like animals behave like animals?”

When that is the story that you hear about yourself day in and day out for years, most prisoners come to believe it. Just as the story that I was dumb, ugly, and unwanted went deep into my heart, in the heart of many prisoners is a story that they are worthless and no better than animals in a cage.

But is that the truth? Is it true that because a man or woman commits a crime and is sentenced to prison, he or she ceases to have value, worth, and dignity? Is it true that they are not people, they are only numbers? Is it true that they are now no better than an animal? What about Christians in prison? Is that story true about them?

What does the Bible say?

In Matthew 25:40 Jesus said that those people are his brothers. They are family. And they have the same standing before the Father that Jesus, the older brother, has. What standing does Jesus have? According to Matthew 3:17 the Father says of Jesus, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”

What does God say about Christians who are prisoners? “This is my beloved son or daughter, razor wire, fences, walls, bars, and prison uniforms notwithstanding, and with this son or daughter, I am well pleased.” That’s the truth.

But here’s the thing, that is a hard truth to believe when the story you are constantly being told, and the story you tell yourself, is that you are worthless, you have no dignity, you are an animal in a cage.

This is where prison ministry, especially the kind of prison ministry we do with Metanoia and MINTS Seminary-in-Prison, makes a powerful difference—we help our brothers and sisters in prison rewrite their internal narratives.

What makes the difference? It is our presence.

Prisoners can read the truth in their Bibles and in Christian books. They can hear the truth from prison chaplains in worship services. But that rarely has the power to change their internal narrative. What does have the power to change their story is when a volunteer shows up inside the prison.

When a mentor or instructor comes to the prison and spends time one-on-one or teaching a class week after week and month and month it communicates to the prisoner that he or she does have value and worth, that they are a person, an image bearer of God, a brother or sister.

When they are treated like a valuable person by someone from the outside who is there out of true Christian love and concern, it changes the internal narrative, and that changes the person’s long-term outcomes.

The US Department of Justice says that on average 76% of released prisoners will reoffend within five years. The rate at which former prisoners that have been in our ministries reoffend after five years is less than 3%.

I am convinced that the primary reason for that is that we treat our mentoring partners and students as they really are, as redeemed, adopted, and loved children of God. And because we treat them that way their internal stories change, and they learn to believe and love the truth about themselves.

I’ll close with one story. Carlos was incarcerated for 32 years. The last three years of his time he was in our seminary program. Just before he went home, I asked him what was the most valuable thing he was going to take away from our program.  

He said that in the seminary he’d learned to think like a theologian which was good. But the most valuable thing he learned was that because I had loved him like Jesus, he was a child of the King, and he could love others that way too.

I’d love to know your thoughts.

Much love, Barry