"Why do you do this?
Why do you do Kairos prison ministry?"
2 Corinthians 12:15
"I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls. If I love you more, am I to be loved less?"
Truth be told about many spiritual endeavors, there are many Christian ministries that exist for the purpose of being ministered too. But that would not do for Paul. Paul isn’t just willing to give money, time, or effort, he’s ready to be completely used up for their souls’ salvation, growth, and eternal welfare. It’s voluntary and joyful ("most gladly" ), not grudging.
Despite Paul’s deepening affection and sacrificial service, the Corinthians’ response has been lukewarm or even diminished. Perhaps influenced by false teachers and their own immaturity.
Paul’s words for us today captures a ministry that’s not about personal gain, emotional fulfillment for the giver, or building a platform. It’s about gladly being "spent" for the souls of others, even when the response is minimal, lukewarm, or nonexistent.
The prison environment that Kairos steps into actively discourages Christian community. Prayer gatherings there are suspect, confrontation is often forced to discourage that sort of thing. And it's ironic because that's exactly what we encourage, small group dynamics, prayer and share formation, fellowship, consistent witness through their actions, and planting seeds wherever they can in that hostile soil. We are, by the nature of our mission statement, contrary to the prison culture. We are there to exhort them into being the very thing the prison needs them not to be.
And yet they let us come.
They even provide space and resources for that work.
And somehow, The Holy Spirit isn’t blocked by their reluctance or those concrete walls and bars.
Kairos Prison Ministry exists precisely for this, to share Christ’s love and forgiveness with incarcerated men, women, and youth, aiming to bring hope, healing, transformation, and to build Christian community inside prisons. That's our mission. Every voluntary is there of their own accord, and is paying their own way, or others are giving in order to help their friends to participate.
Volunteers demonstrate God’s unconditional love through talks, fellowship, letters of encouragement, and simple acts like baking cookies. The goal, our motives, isn’t quick conversions for stats but hearts changed. Taking responsibility, experiencing forgiveness, and finding freedom in the truth.
So, to the question:
"Why do you do this? Why do you do Kairos prison ministry?"
It seems rooted in the same Pauline conviction. A deepening love for souls that doesn’t demand reciprocity. You’re there to spend and be spent; time, energy, emotion, even facing the hostility of the setting, for their spiritual warming, growth, and eternal welfare. It’s voluntary and joyful, even amid challenges, because it’s about imitating Christ who spent Himself fully without guarantee of return.
And so this should be convicting for "the church". Especially when we are tempted to minister only when it ministers back to us?
And so, this is why our Kairos ministry focus scripture comes out of the discourse in Matthew 25:31–46
"I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me."
Prison ministry is explicitly named here as one of the marks of true discipleship. In Kairos ministry, the "Jesus cookies", letters, retreats, and consistent presence are tangible ways of "coming to" prisoners. Kairos is clothing the naked in Christ's garments, in dignity. Visiting the sick in spirit when we enter the prison walls. And this is even more true and real as addiction, depression, and anxiety is ramping up.
I refer to Kairos as "raw Christianity" when speaking about it to others. I explain that it strips away those churchy comforts we all have experienced, and lays bare the test of a genuine faith. Just by existing it asks the question, "Did we serve Christ by serving the overlooked, the uncomfortable, the ones who can’t (or won’t) repay us?"
Kairos intentionally goes into places of isolation, hostility, and raw brokenness, not for applause, but because Jesus explicitly names it:
"I was in prison and you came to me."
That's right, we're going there to see Jesus.
And to bring him homemade treats, not gourmet gestures, they’re acts of dignity and warmth in a dehumanizing environment, like a cool drink of water. Or in their case, hot coffee.
Letters of encouragement that say, "You are seen, valued, and worth our kindness". Forgiveness talks, and community-building, a consistent presence; these are the agape gifts of the Kairos, even amid suspicion or cultural pushback. All ways of "coming to" prisoners.
And now, more so than ever, the Kairos Prison Ministry faces a challenge that is growing in its intensity. Mental health struggles, including severe depression and anxiety, are significantly elevated among incarcerated populations. More and more, every time I sit with with them and share in their prayers the most common theme is addressing their addictions. You see it literally burned into their index fingers. A literal imprint of the bondage many now carry; addiction’s toll written on their skin that can’t be concealed in those vulnerable moments like prayer circles. And in our intimate conversations they confess their desire to overcome this pain.
You can see the tears well up as the gravity bears down on them. This poison is killing them, and they know it. But they can't stop.
And so it breaks your heart.
And every visit you hope that they haven't paid the ultimate and grave price for this choice. The gravity hits hard, they know it’s killing them; body, mind, soul, and yet the pull feels unbreakable. It breaks your heart because you’re seeing souls God loves, trapped in chains that go far beyond physical bars. Amplified by vicious loops, by prison stressors; isolation, violence, lack of access to treatment. And leaving that place is not the solution. Overdose risk skyrockets post-release, up to 40 times higher in the first weeks due to a lowered tolerance.
So what's a Kairos to do?
We do what we've always done. We tell them face to face, "you are not your addiction; you are a child that God is pursuing." You affirm their worth. You point to real freedom. You plant seeds that the Holy Spirit can water into repentance, renewal, and steps toward sobriety. You model persistence.
Your coming back again and again is so powerful. It literally saves lives. More than food and nutrition. It feeds their soul and lifts them out of that depression and darkness. You're like a tiny match in total darkness that illuminates the whole universe.
You are literally being that light that Jesus spoke of. The light of the world.
The tears you see?
They’re often the first crack where light enters; conviction, sorrow leading to repentance. Tying to an attitude change, encouraging pro-social behavior, and spiritual transformation. Not magic, but God’s work through a faithful pouring out.
Friends,
The church must rise to this. The church MUST participate. More volunteers, more advocacy for better in-prison treatment, and prayers covering every facility.
Church,
Kairos isn't just visiting prisoners, we're coming to Christ in them. That hope we carry in; your cookies and letters, posters, place mats and prayers on a paper chain, even when it feels fragile, is piercing the darkness. Every tear witnessed, every prayer offered, every "Jesus cookie" shared is kingdom work. Yielding softened hearts, fresh mercies, no losses to the grave price, and strength renewed for all.
Church,
The ONE who sets captives free is with us in that prison. And he's calling you ALL into serving HIM in that place. Yes, church; the call is clear, urgent, and straight from the heart of Christ Himself.
Will you answer that call?
Volunteer. Advocate. Pray.
This isn’t about guilt, it’s about grace overflowing. Jesus came for the sick, the captive, and the broken. When we go where He goes, we find Him waiting there for us. And in serving the "least," we serve Him. If you’re feeling that tug right now, take the step. Reach out to Kairos, talk to your pastor, pray for clarity. The harvest is plentiful, the workers few, but the Lord of the harvest is calling for more hands to go into the mission field.
The church rises when we answer together:
"In His name, who breaks every chain, yes Lord, send us. Amen."
Grace and strength to you all, in Jesus' Holy name.