Psalm 146:7b-9

"The Lord sets the prisoners free; the Lord opens the eyes of the blind.

The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down; the Lord loves the righteous. The Lord watches over the sojourners; he upholds the widow and the fatherless, but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin."

Why do we worship God?

Psalm 146 is one of what's known as the "Hallelujah" Psalms. This Psalm begins with a commandment to shout the praises of the Lord. Hallelujah in Hebrew literally means "praise the Lord".

This psalm in particular paints a picture of God as a defender of the vulnerable. And it expresses how the Psalmist is pouring out his soul in worship for the God of Jacob.

The Psalmist expresses his deep abiding devotion saying,

"I will praise the Lord as long as I live; I will sing praises to my God while I have my being." (vs. 2)

Many times, when I've been talking to folks about the Kairos Prison Ministry, I'll hear from them a kind of skepticism about the veracity of the commitment to God that these incarcerated people are experiencing. I suppose for them it's difficult to imagine these career criminals being seriously concerned about God's will. It’s understandable, especially if someone’s view of "career criminals" is shaped by stereotypes or a belief that long-term incarceration hardens people beyond meaningful change. It’s a natural human tendency to question the authenticity of that transformation, particularly in an environment like prison, where motives must be doubted.

For reasons like these, many incarcerated people are completely abandoned by their family and friends. Many incarcerated individuals feel oppressed, whether by these outcast circumstances, their own past choices, or our societal systems that reject them completely. It's no picnic in maximum security prison believe me. Twenty-three hours a day they're locked up in a nine-foot by six-foot cell with two beds and a toilet.

When family and friends drift away, whether out of skepticism, shame, or exhaustion, it compounds that sense of being cast out. This situation aligns starkly with the "oppressed" in Psalm 146:7 ("He upholds the cause of the oppressed" ). In Hebrew, ‘ashukim’ implies being crushed or wronged, and that fits here. And this is where it becomes difficult for the "free-world" people to find compassion for them. They'll struggle with seeing these offenders as "wronged" or "oppressed". But here's the thing, that's exactly what prison is intended to be. It's not just setting someone aside or removing them from our society; it's purposely oppressing their rights and freedoms. And in maximum security the need for security and management of order, makes that oppression very intense. The imprisoned are given no sense of peace throughout their day, because any moment in which they can relax is an opportunity for them to formulate a plan for committing some heinous act of violence against other inmates or the staff.

This is why It’s often a tough sell to the "free-world" people, to get them to imagine how God can break through that environment and produce a redeemed person out of an absolutely awful sinner who is forced to live for years among many other absolutely awful sinners. It's difficult to believe that someone doesn't become a complete monster in that place. And for good reason, because many do become exactly that. Just as wicked people are everywhere, in prison or in the free world. But in the prison, it's condensed.

Let’s wrestle with this, tying it back to Psalm 146:7 and the reality of ministries like Kairos, while trying to face the skepticism head-on.

The Environment: A Monster Factory

It’s a pressure cooker in maximum security, it's designed to suppress, not heal. Don't even think about rehabilitation, the prison is not about that. It’s a breeding ground for despair and rage. There's no peace, no privacy, and often no hope. And unfortunately it’s the survival of the meanest. Studies on solitary confinement (close to max security conditions) show it can worsen mental illness, aggression, and antisocial traits.

One ex-inmate said,

"You either break or you harden—there’s no in-between."

And prison stats back this up. Recidivism rates hover at around 60-70% in the U.S., and max security inmates often have the toughest road.

But Psalm 146:7 ("He upholds the cause of the oppressed…The Lord sets prisoners free" ) doesn’t dodge this reality, it confronts it. The Kairos Prison Ministry has logged multiple stats that prove there is a definite improvement in overall security and decreased violence after establishing a Kairos community inside the prison.

A study of 505 inmates released from Florida prisons found Kairos participants had a recidivism rate of 15.7% (one session) and 10% (two or more sessions), compared to 23.4% for non-Kairos inmates. Fewer returning to prison means less ongoing violence on the outside, a sign of inner change that can have a ripple effect on the inside of the prison as well. Wardens and prison officials where Kairos operate often report a shift in the whole prison living environment. As Kairos builds Christian communities, the influence of participants, often former negative and violent leaders, lowers the incidence of violence. This suggests a stabilizing effect, fewer disruptions, fewer fights.

And from my perspective it's very interesting for to me to witness the stark contrast between how the prison residents are managed by staff and how they are treated while participating in our Kairos ministry. In the prison environment movement and access is the thing. Security is all about managing who is going where, why they're going there and when. And this can be very difficult and is purposefully confusing. No routines allowed. This is why twenty-three hours a day the inmates are locked down.

Now look at a Kairos weekend event or ongoing "Prayer and Share" activities. Order is maintained by encouraging respect for the community. For example, when it's time to quiet down the group to get them to come to order, the Kairos leader will simply raise his hand. And in less than a minute all eyes are on him and everyone is silent. Except for the one guy who's not paying attention very well. The prison staff are always amazed by this. Their method for controlling order is sharp screeching whistles, shouts, yelling, and posturing.

No doubt about it, the residents can behave reasonably, and even with grace and mercy, if they are so inclined. Kairos proves that every visit. They can indeed be transformed into kind and respectful servants. I've witnessed it every time. Violence is pretty much nonexistent in the Kairos community when they come together. God's love is viscerally present in that gymnasium when Kairos gathers.

The contrast between the prison’s iron-fisted control and Kairos’s gentle, community-driven order is striking. It’s a living testament to Psalm 146:7’s promise: "He upholds the cause of the oppressed…The Lord sets prisoners free." You’re seeing God break through that oppressive, chaotic environment with something transformative, and it’s not just theory, it’s tangible.

From the prison's perspective the 23-hour lockdown in a 9x6 cell isn’t just punishment, it’s a chokehold on opportunity. No routines allowed, because predictability is a crack in their armor, inmates could plan violence, escape, or chaos. The constant shuffling, the lack of rhythm, its purposeful confusion. No peace, no patterns, just tension.

A former inmate once said,

"You’re always waiting for the next boot to drop."

It's permanent enforced and encouraged frightening. It forces them to react with violence or be violently victimized.

And that's why Kairos does what it does, in the way that it does, because God can use that vulnerability to expose their need for Him. Kairos doesn't just bring order; it’s a voluntary order. It's a changed heart and mind. A mind stayed on Jesus. Kairos builds a community where respect isn’t forced, it’s encouraged. Kairos is about mutual dignity found in Christ. That’s Psalm 146:7’s "sets prisoners free" in real time, not from the cell, but from the chaos and violence that define prison life. For a couple of hours these men normally compartmentalized by gang affiliation, tendency toward violence, and other social structures; now operate in a unity of purpose as a family of brothers in Christ.

The best Christian witness in my opinion is the prison staff’s amazement and cooperation with our ministry. It says it all, they’re used to forcing order, not inspiring it. Kairos proves these "awful sinners" can choose differently when given a taste of mutual dignity in Christ.

Kairos doesn’t just calm the room, it's building something divine. For a weekend or a couple of hours, gang lines blur, violence fades, and social structures crumble. "Unity of purpose" isn’t a buzzword, it’s a gymnasium full of guys who’d normally harm each other but who are now sharing a hymn or a prayer together. That’s Psalm 146:7’s freedom, they're breaking the chains of division. And I mean "they" are. Kairos isn't about the ministry team, it's about building a community of believers inside that prison who in turn build an inside community that is actively defending each other in the ongoing battle against oppression and violence.

In conclusion:

I’ve seen the chaos. Prison’s a grinder. 23 hours locked down, no routines, just whistles and tension. It’s built to crush them.

Then Kairos happens. A hand goes up, and they’re silent, not forced, but willing. Gangs fade, violence stops, and they’re a family. God’s love fills that gym, you can’t fake that. It’s Psalm 146:7 God sets them free, not from the cell, but from what prison makes them. I watch it every time. And I thank God for that opportunity.

Amen