We often assume that people behind prison walls are the ones truly trapped, while those of us walking free are the ones who know what liberty feels like. But what if the opposite is true? During my recent prison retreat, I encountered men who, despite their crimes and their confinement, had found a freedom that many of us outside the walls still search for. Their journey with Christ is a powerful reminder that true freedom isn’t about where we are—it’s about who we are with. I invite you to read an incredible story of hope and redemption.

As most of you know, I have just returned from leading a Blessed, Broken, and Scared retreat inside a prison. It was my third time putting on a retreat for inmates, and once again, I walked away deeply moved by the men I encountered—men whose lives tell stories of brokenness, wrong choices, and painful consequences, but also stories of astonishing faith, deep repentance, and radiant hope.

Before continuing, I once again want to thank everyone who prayed for the inmates, for my safe travel, and for the success of this retreat. Your prayers were answered, and your financial support well spent. I also want to thank my good friend Bob, who traveled with me and another friend Karl who lives near the prison who helped Bob and I with this retreat. Finally, a special thanks goes out to Collette, Jack, Adam, Nick, and Fr. Mike. Without the five individuals this retreat would not have been possible.

We entered the prison at 7:15 in the morning. After clearing the security checkpoint, the guards buzzed us through the steel door. It was a sobering feeling hearing the door lock behind us. For the next twelve hours we were locked inside the razor walls. We exited the prison at 7:30pm, each of us forever changed by the encounter.

There’s no denying the truth: these men committed crimes. There are victims whose lives were forever impacted by their actions. We must never lose sight of the suffering these crimes caused. Justice demanded accountability, and these men are serving their sentences. Yet even with full awareness of that reality, I witnessed something extraordinary—something that speaks to the boundless mercy of God: many of these men have found a freedom that those of us on the outside still long for. I can tell you that the men I encountered are truly sorry for their crimes.

Speaking of the retreat, one inmate offered this heartbreaking honesty:

“We needed to hear this message today. When we are gathered in the prison chapel, it feels like a little piece of Heaven. But when we step back onto the prison yard or return to our cell blocks, it’s like stepping back into hell.”

His words were heavy with truth. Inside the harsh walls of the prison, surrounded by barbed wire and guards, the chapel becomes an oasis of grace. Christ enters in, unfazed by human locks and iron bars. And wherever Christ is present, freedom is within reach.

We outside the walls often assume we are the free ones. After all, we can come and go as we please. We live without wardens or razor wire. Yet when I sat face-to-face with these men, I realized something deeply unsettling: physical walls do not make the real prisons.

Many of us are trapped in prisons of our own making. Maybe it’s a recurring sin. Maybe it’s an addiction. Maybe it’s a destructive behavior, a prideful attitude, an unforgiving heart, uncontrolled anger or unrelenting lust. These chains are invisible but just as binding.

The men I met have been forced to face their sins—no hiding, no excuses. And in facing the worst of themselves, they encountered the very best of God. They found a Savior who steps into the ugliest corners of our lives and says, “I still want you.” In surrender, they discovered true freedom: the kind that is not dependent on circumstance but grounded in Christ.

These men are not perfect. None of us are. Some are still battling old habits, and some are weighed down by the scars of their sins and their inability to forgive themselves for the things they have done. But many now live with a joy, a humility, and a peace that can only come from Jesus Christ and from knowing they’ve been forgiven—truly forgiven—and set free.

Those of us on the outside have so much to learn. Freedom is not merely the absence of walls. Freedom is the presence of Christ within whatever walls surround us. Freedom is not having no consequences. Freedom is living forgiven in the midst of them.

Yes, the victims’ pain remains real. Redemption does not erase the need for justice or diminish the gravity of past wrongs. But it does proclaim that the story is not over. God still writes new chapters, even in places we might think are beyond hope.

Freedom is not a matter of where you stand. Freedom is a matter of who stands with you.

And when Christ stands with you—even behind bars—there is freedom.

These men are our brothers in Christ. We cannot allow them to feel forgotten and discarded. They were kind and helpful to Bob and me. In the period of twelve hours, they became friends. Their faith in Jesus left a lasting powerful impact on us.

Now, what about you? Are you in a prison of your own making or do you share in the freedom these inmates have found in Christ our Lord?  True interior freedom, rooted in Christ, allows us all to rise above our circumstances, no matter what they might be. Jesus is the truth that sets us free!

Heavenly Father, my encounter in this prison moved me to tears. Your Son told us, “For I was in prison, and you visited me.” Father, I just encountered your Son in the men that I met. They were Christ to me. They have found freedom in your Son. Please help everyone who reads this message to find that same freedom. Set us all free from whatever binds us. Amen! 

AMDG 

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Brian Pusateri
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