Grace Beyond the Bars: Discipling Hearts from Knowledge to Surrender
Romans 15:19-21
"by the power of signs and wonders, by the power of the Spirit of God, so that from Jerusalem and all the way around to Illyricum I have fulfilled the ministry of the gospel of Christ; and thus I make it my ambition to preach the gospel, not where Christ has already been named, lest I build on someone else's foundation, but as it is written,"
"Those who have never been told of him will see, and those who have never heard will understand.""
Paul’s ambition, to go where there's a true need, "not where Christ has already been named", resonates with me, especially in the context of prison ministry. This scripture resounds for me in those concrete corridors and behind steel doors where, for many, the name of Jesus truly hasn’t been spoken with love or clarity. In prison, the "signs and wonders" may not be dramatic miracles in the sky, but they’re no less the Spirit’s work. A hardened heart softening when someone reads Isaiah 61 aloud for the first time.
Isaiah 61:1-2
"Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor..."
Miracles like, a man who’s never known a father’s love hearing, "You are my beloved son," and tears falling on a denim jumpsuit sleeve. Or a volunteer who keeps showing up, week after week, becoming a living epistle, seen and understood by men who’ve been told their whole lives they’re invisible or irredeemable.
And it's not always about going to the places where the gospel hasn’t echoed yet. Many in prison have mastered there Bibles, spending endless hours reading and rereading chapter by chapter. And developing an idea that becomes their first and foremost passion. Developing stumbling blocks to grace for themselves and others. And they need the prison ministries to help them come to terms with their understanding in order to become a useful fruitful resource in the body of Christ.
So maybe we're standing in the gap Paul dreamed of. Every Bible study, every letter answered, every prayer shared in the small group, every one on one encounter is a brick we lay, not on someone else’s foundation, but on the raw, untouched ground of a soul that’s never been told about the gospel.
Paul’s ambition wasn’t just geographic, it was spiritual. He longed to reach the unreached, not in the many miles traveled alone, but in the hearts transformed, where Christ had never truly been named in power and love. And in prison, that first century Christian frontier still exists, sometimes in souls who’ve never heard, and sometimes in those who’ve read the Word a thousand times before, but never met the Word made flesh in agape grace.
In prison ministry you discover there's another kind of bondage. Some there are turning Scripture into a weapon of self-justification, or a ladder of works, or a shield against vulnerability. In our Kairos prison ministry we are discipling understanding. We're helping those men to move from head knowledge to heart surrender and focusing on sound doctrine without professing any one denominational identity.
There is a deeper prison than any cell block. Verses twisted into self-justification; "I’ve kept the rules better than most." Chapters climbed up and down day after day, like a ladder of works; "If I memorize enough, I’ll earn my way out of guilt, of shame, of God’s silence." And they're always out there on the fringes, truth wielded as a shield against vulnerability; "I don’t need your forgiveness talk, I know what the Book says."
And that’s where Kairos becomes more than a program, it becomes a movement of the Spirit, a quiet revolution of grace over performance, relationship over religion. We're not just bringing cookies and a message. We're bringing Jesus without labels. No denominational flags planted. No theological turf to defend. Just sound doctrine wrapped up in love, and served with humility modeled in an ongoing community.
In Kairos prison ministry we are replacing debate points with dinner-table talk, with fellowship, "Come, eat with us." No hidden agenda, just our presence and the gospel. Growing people into Christ-like disciples. Helping a man trade his Pharisaic precision for a childlike faith, and turning his solo Bible study into shared surrender around a folding table of vulnerability.
Are we building on another's foundation? No not really, we're renovating foundations. We're pouring fresh gospel footings,
and letting the Spirit raise up something alive. Often pulling up the cracked concrete of legalism, or the false promises of Islam and paganism.
And the beauty of Kairos?
It’s peer-to-peer grace. Men who’ve been set free, not from prison, but from prison-thinking. That’s Illyricum in denim jumpsuits. That’s Rome in the pods, and the rec yard. In Kairos we aren't advocating for the incarcerated, we're making Jesus the only identity that matters to them.
So, in those weekend retreats, in those monthly reunions, in those handwritten prayer letters, hearts are being moved. From knowing about God to being known by Him. And one day, maybe a man who once used Scripture to stay safe
will use it to set others free. That’s not just ministry. That’s the gospel fulfilling itself.
Prayer:
Heavenly Father of mercy, break every chain, seen and unseen, in the hearts of those behind bars and before You. Replace their ladders of works with your Son's cross of grace, shields of pride with the open arms of Christ. Use our humble words, our steady presence, and servant hearts to lead these men from head to heart, from knowing Scripture to knowing You. Let sound doctrine breathe love, and let love silence every lie of condemnation.
In the name of Jesus, the Boundless Holy One.
Amen.