Tim Busch was released from prison on a Thursday. The following Sunday he showed up at Sierra View Presbyterian Church in Fresno, California. He was nervous.

“I simply didn’t believe I belonged with all of these fine people, but everyone was welcoming and very polite,” Busch says, who had been incarcerated for almost 29 years. “I was greeted and warmly hugged more than I can ever remember.”

The reality was that the folks at Sierra View had been praying for Busch for years, thanks to a relationship that had formed nine years before between Busch and a church member named Rick Moore via Metanoia Prison Ministries’ correspondence program.

Letter and Light

Mark Casson, a former inmate and now the director of Metanoia, a ministry of Mission to North America (MNA), says he likes to ask prospective volunteers if they think discipleship via correspondence is biblical. For those who are unsure, he recommends they read through 1 and 2 Timothy, Titus, and Philemon. “Because those were letters that Paul sent to men to disciple them,” Casson half jokes.

“This little booklet that they get in the mail, this little letter that you write … it may be the only encouragement they get on a monthly basis.”

The Bible study is divided into five courses on topics ranging from the basics of Christianity to grace to the book of James, and could take as long as five years to complete. The goal is both to expose those in prison to Reformed doctrine and foster close relationships between volunteers who read a participant’s responses to a lesson and then write a little note of encouragement every month.

“On average it takes about one hour a month to do this,” says Casson. “For most of us, that’s nothing. It’s the commercials in a three-hour football game. But to the prisoner who’s on the other end, this may be the only contact they have with the outside world.”

Currently, Metanoia works in 49 states with 1,900 incarcerated men and women through the commitment of 1,200 church volunteers both in the correspondence program and its in-person mentoring ministry. Casson sees success not so much in the numbers, but in the lives so clearly impacted by the gospel.

“It’s not uncommon to have really deep relationships develop through this ministry. That seems so simple to us … [but] it’s powerful in the life of that prisoner, who’s in a place that’s dark and lonely, and the world has surrounded you, and this little booklet that they get in the mail, this little letter that you write, means the world to them,” says Casson. “It may be the only encouragement they get on a monthly basis.”

The long-term goal is that those who discover the gospel as well as life-changing friendships would also, like Tim Busch, get connected to the local church once they get out of prison.

“If one of our students is within a year of getting out, we want to find them a church wherever they’re going … so when they walk out that first Sunday, they know exactly where they’re going to go to worship.”

Neglecting Jesus?

As Metanoia has entered its 10th year as an MNA ministry, Casson is encouraged by the ministry’s growth. At the same time, he’s noticed that Reformed churches as a whole have been late to the prison ministry game.

“I’m not blaming anybody, but I am asking the question: Why is it that we who have the best doctrine seem to have forgotten an entire class of people?” he asks.

“We have to remember the prisoner. It’s not an option. If we don’t, we’re neglecting the glory of Christ. It’s the same as if we neglect the sick, or the widow, or the fatherless, or the hungry, or the thirsty.”

Casson says that when he speaks at a church, someone will inevitably come up to him and tell him that they have a loved one in prison but haven’t told anyone at the church.

“People are ashamed —  they don’t think they can tell other people in the church.”

“I Call Him My Friend”

Busch says that the correspondence program gave him the structure he needed to learn to study the Bible well. And it gave him true friendships. Rick Moore agrees.

“I can say that it is a joy to know this brother in Christ, laugh at his good humor, and call him my friend,” says Moore. “And really, nowadays I think he is the one who is a blessing to me.”

Busch now works three part-time jobs and has his own apartment. He says that his friendship with the Moores — which has continued over meals, vacations, and invitations to special family events — has opened up to him an even larger family.

“In the 19 months since my release, I have missed only two [church] services. Sierra View is my home, and the people there are my family.”