“They say a candle shines the brightest in the darkness”
Reflections
“I smiled and sat down, placing the chaplaincy resources onto the bolted-down table in the prison unit. Several women then quickly made their way over, variously asking me, ‘Can you pray for my court appearance to go well next week, please, Miss?’ and ‘Can you pray for my children and for my sick mum?’,” says chaplain Jude Markland
I could see Matilda’s concerned face peering close up through the glass window of the prison cell. She was looking down the indoor prison corridor in the secure unit. Matilda* is a young woman whom I met on previous visits to the prison. She had always declined my offers of chaplaincy chats with, “No, thank you, Miss!” However, today Matilda looked very different. She looked as though she had been crying. Her worried and frowning face showed a pursed mouth and her dark brown eyes were searching anxiously around. As I walked down the corridor towards her cell, her eyes were fixed directly on me.
I smiled gently at Matilda, and through her prison door window I re-introduced myself as Jude an Anglican prison chaplain, and asked if she would like to speak with me. Matilda replied loudly, “Yes, Miss!!” and she rapidly launched into a lengthy and heated sharing of tragedies she has endured in her life.
It was as though Matilda had unscrewed the top of a pressure cooker — her racing voice shared painful experiences of being raised in foster care before becoming homeless. Matilda wept as she shared her pain, especially the grief she felt being separated from her own young children. I listened carefully, compassionately and without judgement. Using the trauma-informed pastoral care skills the State Chaplaincy Board for Corrections in Queensland has trained us in, I listened carefully and empathetically to the woman’s story.
When Matilda stopped for a breath, I gently acknowledged what she had shared and suggested we pause together for a moment so she could “gather her strength”. I reassured Matilda that I wanted to hear and understand more. Matilda looked relieved, her shoulders and face relaxed and we stood there for a few brief moments as Matilda took a slow breath and commented on the loud birdsong we could hear outside the prison. Matilda wondered aloud if they were magpies before thanking me for listening to her.
I asked the Correctional Officer if he would please unlock and open the narrow metal hinged flap to Matilda’s cell door so I could hear Matilda’s voice more clearly. The officer agreed and I took a seat beside Matilda’s cell door and continued to actively listen while she shared more of her story.
She explained that she had lived in several foster homes from the age of five and that upon leaving state care she became homeless. Matilda stated both her parents had been in prison during her youth. I held the sacred listening space for her story while reflecting on the strength Matilda would have mustered to endure it all. Matilda asked abruptly, while crying, if I could please pray for her children as they too are now in foster care while she was incarcerated.
I replied saying that, “Yes, it would be an honour to pray for your children”, and asked Matilda if she had a particular faith. I explained that while prison chaplains come from faith backgrounds that we respect the faith and beliefs of all prisoners as we provided pastoral care. Matilda quickly stated that she believed in Jesus, but that she hadn’t been to a church service since her childhood. I asked Matilda about her experiences with church and she said that “church people had been kind to me” and that “the biscuits were always homemade that they gave us, and they were delicious, and we did nice crafts at church”.
Using the training I received from our regular Anglican chaplain professional development days, I asked Matilda if she could recall a prayer that had been a comfort to her in her past, so we could utilise her own prayer experiences and wisdom to pray together for her children. Matilda loudly replied, “Yes, Chappie! I remember there is a prayer about the shepherd. What is it called? My nana used to say it to me when I was little before bed! I had forgotten all about it!”
With the Correctional Officer’s approval I provided Matilda with a soft cover Bible through the opened metal flap in the door, which was opened at Psalm 23. I asked Matilda if she would like me to read it to her, and Matilda said, “Let’s say it together” and “Can we hold hands when we pray?” I explained that while we are not permitted to hold hands that we could kneel and put our palms on either side of the metal grille at the bottom of the prison cell door. We read Psalm 23, “The Lord is my shepherd”, together and by the time we finished, Matilda’s face seemed peaceful and relaxed. I suggested that she may like to keep the Psalms open and to have Psalm 23 at hand if she became worried again. Matilda agreed and thanked me for coming, saying, “It’s been a long time since I opened the Scriptures. Thank you, Chappie.” I invited Matilda to consider attending the prison Sunday chapel service, explaining this was part of the pastoral care service. Matilda gave me her approval to inform the other prison chaplains of her need for ongoing pastoral care support visits.
As I left the secure unit I progressed along the concrete walking path, pulling behind our prison chaplain trolley containing approved chaplaincy resources, including soft Bibles, Scripture study materials, small books of Psalms and newsletters from the church chaplaincy representatives. I felt grateful to be a part of a caring multi-denominational prison chaplaincy team, comprising Anglican, Salvation Army, Catholic and Uniting Church chaplains, as well as Christian groups Prison Fellowship Australia and Inside Out Prison Chaplaincy. I appreciate being on a team of caring Christians who are passionate about pastoral care being provided to people who are incarcerated.
As I arrived at the next unit, I waved and smiled my thanks to the security camera above the door and pushed on the unit’s door as the Controller remotely unlocked the door. I felt appreciative of the many safety features and protocols that mean that in 30 years of prison chaplaincy in Queensland not a single chaplain has been injured. I am grateful to the Correctional Officers and other prison staff members who support and welcome us, as well as for the provision of the personal duress alarm we chaplains clip onto our trouser belts, so we are always safely supported.
The next unit I arrived at was a lower security environment, so I was able to sit at one of the bolted-down metal tables and bolted-down metal seats and set up the scripture resources from my trolley. I looked around and saw prisoners at the other various tables, some sorting laundry, some colouring in, some chatting with other women, and some eating at the table while other prisoners were engaged in cleaning tasks at the kitchenette. I looked through to the unit’s outdoor area and saw prisoners exercising outside. I gave a friendly wave to all the prisoners in the unit and said, “Good morning, everyone! I am a chaplain here to provide pastoral care and resources if anyone would like to have a chat.”
I smiled and sat down, placing the chaplaincy resources onto the bolted-down table in the prison unit. Several women then quickly made their way over, variously asking me, ‘Can you pray for my court appearance to go well next week, please, Miss?’ and ‘Can you pray for my children and for my sick mum?’ Another young woman asked me quietly, “Can I have one of these Bibles, Miss?” The prayer requests and questions came quickly and I responded to each of the women in a gentle, caring way.
As I stood up to pack the resources before moving on to the next unit, I noticed a thin young woman with straight hair covering her face. She had been sitting at the end of my table, colouring in quietly while I was chatting with the others. I looked at her and smiled and said, “Hello. My name is Jude. I am a chaplain, what is your name?” Without looking up, she robotically replied, “Brown”. I gently replied, “Oh, I meant what is your first name? My first name is Jude.” The woman stopped colouring in, looked up surprised and as though in a daze, she said, “My name is Sarah. Thank you for coming in. While I was sitting at your table I pretended you were my mum, and I have been imagining I was at home at the kitchen table with her. Thank you for asking me for my first name. It’s been a while since I have heard myself say it.” I smiled at her gently and we had a simple conversation about the illustration she was colouring in and about how much she missed her mum.
The woman explained that she believed in God, but didn’t pray because, “What I have done is too bad now”. I reassured the woman that God forgives all who go to Him. The woman shared that she sometimes felt God was still with her. I asked the woman “Have you heard the story about the Prodigal Son?” With the woman’s permission we opened the Scriptures and read the story together. I explained that this was a story Jesus shared about what God is like — that God loves us and is always earnestly ready to forgive. I said to the young woman, “I am no different to you. We have all made our mistakes. Our God is willing and wanting to forgive those of us who turn to Him.” With the woman’s permission we prayed together. The woman gave me her verbal approval to give her name to the other chaplains so we could continue to follow up and provide pastoral care to her.
As I packed the resources into the trolley and made my way out of the unit I quietly prayed for the woman and all the other women in prison whom God wants to draw to Him — our wonderful Lord who loves all of the people who are inside Queensland prisons.
I have been a prison chaplain for three years. During this time, I have provided prison chaplaincy to women at Numinbah Correctional Centre and Brisbane Women’s Correctional Centre.
I was drawn to prison chaplaincy because I love Jesus — by His mercy and goodness I have a transformed life in Him. In deep gratitude for what Christ has done for me, I love expressing my love for Jesus by providing prison chaplaincy. I had a period of discernment three years ago when I felt a calling to move into this role. I have worked for more than 30 years in community service roles, including in mental health, homelessness and hospice roles. These roles prepared me well for prison chaplaincy, which I see as work of the Church and required as written in Scripture:
“Continue to remember those in prison as if you were together with them in prison, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering” from Hebrews 13.3 and “I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me” from Matthew 25.36.
Surprisingly the person who has benefitted the most from my prison chaplaincy is me. It absolutely wasn’t why I went into it. I went into it because I wanted to express my loving appreciation to God. I am so thankful that prison chaplaincy has helped me grow so much in my relationship and faith with Christ. The prayers from our parish community, the peer support and friendship from the other chaplains, the spiritual strengthening that happens from being soaked regularly in the Scriptures and the interactions with the prisoners themselves have all benefitted my own spiritual maturity, health and wellbeing in ways I could never have imagined three years ago.
Our visits can be a comfort, a solace and a source of hope that God has not forgotten them during what is invariably a most difficult part of a person’s journey in life. While working in the homelessness service sector clients I was told by one of my clients, “It was the regular visits from the chaplain that kept me holding onto life when I was in prison. I was completely alone, but for the visiting prison chaplain I was able to hold on to hope that things could be better for me.”
I believe it is essential for chaplains to be non-judgemental, compassionate and other-centred. It is also important to be a great listener. These qualities enable prisoners to be seen as “made in the image of God” and loved by God, inherently worthy of dignity and respect. Through providing pastoral care in this way we seek to assist the prisoner to establish and/or strengthen their own relationship with God, according to their faith.
I believe that the Church is also uniquely positioned to help prisoners upon their release. In the Scriptures, Christ restored people to Himself and back to their community. A church community is uniquely positioned to welcome a former prisoner into parish life, providing a place to belong, friendships, and restoration.
I ask that anglican focus readers pray for the ministry of Anglican prison chaplains. I encourage more awareness raising in the hope of recruiting more Anglican prison chaplains. I think parishes becoming communities of welcome to former inmates is the biggest thing we can do.
Being a prison chaplain is an incredibly rewarding way of providing support to people who really need it, many of whom have been completely rejected by their family, friends and society.
They say a candle shines the brightest in the darkness and it has been my experience that there is a sincere experience of the Holy Spirit’s wisdom and work at play in prison ministry.
* Pseudonym used for privacy reasons.
Editor’s note: If you would like to volunteer in the special ministry area of prison chaplaincy, please email Dr Stephen Harrison.
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