Some Sundays move differently.
Usually, a visit to Richland Correctional is a fairly easy drive to Mansfield, Ohio. I’ve made the trip before—most times with a group of brothers who serve alongside me in this calling. But this time, every one of them was home for various reasons. Life happens. No harm, no foul.
Still, something felt different.
I left Columbus behind schedule. No big deal—I’ve made up time on I-71 before. But this trip became a maze of detours and disruptions. From I-70 W to I-71 N, rerouted to I-670 W, then to Rt. 315 N, onto I-270 E, and finally back to I-71 N—just to escape the metro area. Add in the fact that every driver on the road seemed to have forgotten basic traffic rules, and I found myself balancing between faith and full-blown frustration.
I wasn’t just battling traffic. I was wrestling with something deeper.
For weeks, I had been questioning whether the Lord was still on my side. Whether His presence was still walking with me. Whether He still heard me. And while I just wanted to fulfill my commitment at the prison, I didn’t realize that Richland wasn’t just another assignment—it was my altar.
Because what I thought was a delay turned out to be divine.
I arrived to witness a baptismal service for 11 men who had surrendered their lives to Christ. I stood among nearly 200 incarcerated brothers, hands lifted, voices raised, tears falling, faith rising. And somewhere between their praise and my prayer, I felt something in me break open. Something long bound up finally set free.
This Black man had to go to prison to be released.
And in that sacred space—the religious center of a correctional institution—I understood Paul and Silas a little better. “About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them. Suddenly, there was such a violent earthquake that the foundations of the prison were shaken” (Acts 16:25–26). That night in Philippi, their praise unlocked something in the spirit before it ever opened the physical doors. That’s what I experienced—chains breaking, not just in the men I came to serve, but in me.
Authentic worship doesn’t wait for ideal circumstances. It breaks chains. It rattles foundations. It transforms prison walls into places of purpose.
I wish I could show you what I saw. I wish there was video evidence of how the Spirit of God filled that place. But some moments are too holy to capture—too weighty for social media. So, let me try to paint the picture:
Imagine nearly 200 men worshiping under the leadership of a Black woman chaplain who has faithfully discipled them. Imagine that atmosphere being set not for performance but for presence—not for a program but for power. And now imagine God—the Eternal Monarch—showing up in glory that knows no demographic, no background, no barrier.
Maybe the problem is we’ve spent too much time deciding who we think needs to be set free.
Jesus declared: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, because He has anointed Me to proclaim good news to the poor… to proclaim liberty to the captives… to set at liberty those who are oppressed” (Luke 4:18). And He didn’t say this was only for those on the outside of bars—but for any soul imprisoned by fear, shame, doubt, trauma, or the system.
Maybe if we truly believed the words of Jesus—“Whom the Son sets free is free indeed” (John 8:36)—we’d stop putting limits on liberation.
This visit reminded me that God is still in the business of deliverance. And sometimes, to receive what you need, you have to go to the places others avoid.
Because freedom doesn’t always come with open doors. Sometimes, it shows up behind bars.
Scriptures to Reflect On:
- Acts 16:25–26 – Paul and Silas’ midnight worship and prison shaking breakthrough
- John 8:36 – “So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”
- Luke 4:18 – Jesus’ mission to set the oppressed free
- Psalm 34:18 – “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”
- Hebrews 13:3 – “Remember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them…”
- Isaiah 61:1 – “He has sent Me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives…”
Closing Prayer:
God of Liberation and Love,
Thank You for meeting us in the most unexpected places.
Thank You for using those we overlook to show us the depth of Your grace.
Help us to see freedom not as a location but as a transformation.
May we never forget that You can move behind bars, within hearts, and beyond our expectations.
Break every chain in us, Lord. Release what’s bound. And let us walk in the freedom only You can give.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Dr. Charles W. Ferguson 