The first time Jeremy Prather entered a prison, he was in the depths of despair. Now he enters prison with the light of the gospel. 

There are many ways Prather doesn’t look like a typical pastor. He has both tattoos and scars. For his ordination service in May 2024, he wore Air Jordans with his suit. His mentor Mark Casson teased him that he should have worn dress shoes, but to Prather, Air Jordans are dress shoes. 

“With God, it’s not about outward appearances, but it’s about the appearance of your heart,” he says.

And Prather’s heart is fully focused on serving God. He has been working as director of ministry at Christ Fellowship Church in Roswell, Georgia, and is the Central Georgia regional director for Metanoia Prison Ministry. 

Prather’s path to the pastorate was hardly traditional.

A Path to Prison With Glimpses of Grace

Prather was the youngest of four children born to a young single mother doing her best to raise her kids in the projects north of Atlanta, Georgia. It didn’t take long for his life to spiral out of control.

Prather started smoking marijuana when he was 12. By age 13 he was using heavier drugs, and by 14, he was an addict.

At just 16 he was committing crime and serving time in a youth detention center. At 17 he was caught selling drugs to an undercover cop and charged as an adult. 

Prison became a revolving door for him in his 20s, as he built up a rap sheet of drug-related charges. During his second prison sentence a cellmate began sharing with him about the Quran, and Prather decided to become a Muslim.

But that new faith did nothing to help his addiction.

“My addiction had gotten so bad that it just led into more horrible criminal behavior, and I wound up committing an armed robbery,” he said.

Prather found rock bottom in the interview room of a police station. 

After the robbery he fled to the home of his childhood friend Holly. When police came to arrest him, he ran for the woods before being caught. When he finally sobered up days later, the investigator questioned Prather about Holly.

When Prather insisted Holly had nothing to do with the crime, the officer told him Holly had been shot and killed. The innocent woman had been mistaken for an armed threat and killed by police officers searching for Prather.

Prather considered all his actions that had cost Holly her life. He thought of her two young children who now had no mother. But rock bottom didn’t lead Prather to repentance. Instead he became bitter.

“Why her and not me?” he questioned God.

Anger and depression washed over Prather, and he had never been more miserable. In the midst of this turmoil he learned for the first time that he had an 11-year-old daughter named Lynsey. The girl’s mother decided now was the time to bring Lynsey to meet Prather.

Prather couldn’t understand why Lynsey’s mother would bring her daughter to prison to meet a man who would never be able to be part of her life. Despite the awkward circumstances of their meeting, Prather and Lynsey hit it off. But Prather was convicted of armed robbery, and in 2010 he was given a 20-year sentence with  10 years of mandatory prison time.

“I just remember breaking down and telling her how sorry I was that she was having to meet me under these circumstances,” Prather said.

Lynsey’s response shocked him. She told her father that she loved him and would support him through his prison sentence. 

Then she added: “Anyway, really, all you need is Jesus to get through this.”

At that time, Prather was still a practicing Muslim so the mention of Jesus seemed misplaced. In time his perspective would change.

From his past, Prather knew how to survive behind bars. Soon he was navigating the drug world that had put him in prison in the first place.

A chaplain, worried about Prather’s activities, told him about a faith- and character-based program at Walker State Prison and asked him if he’d like to participate. Walker State Prison is in Rock Springs, Georgia, so with nothing to lose and the prospect of being transferred closer to his home, Prather said yes.

A Call to Ministry From Behind Bars

As he walked into the back door of Walker State Prison, Prather heard someone shout his name. It was a childhood friend named Ryan. The more time he spent with Ryan, the more Prather realized something was different about him.

Finally Prather asked his friend about the change in his behavior, and Ryan said the change was because of Jesus.

“I’m happy for you,” Prather replied, but brought up that he personally was Muslim. 

Still, Ryan kept sharing the gospel, and after months of his friend’s persistence, Prather finally agreed to go to a church service where he heard a clear presentation of the gospel. 

That night in his room, Prather prayed to God.

“If Jesus is who this man said he is, then that’s what I need,” he recalls praying.

After a restless night, he woke up the next morning and took his Quran and prayer rug and gave it back to the Islamic community in the prison. Then he walked to the chapel office and asked for a Bible, which he read for 16-18 hours each day.  

“It eventually clicked with me that, yes, I am a sinner, and Jesus is the only Savior, and not only that – he’s Lord.”

That was in 2012, and around that time he joined Metanoia Prison Ministries, then a fledgling prison mentoring program for Christians. He was paired with Calvin Keller, a minister in the Orthodox Presbyterian Church.

Over the next five years Keller introduced Prather to deep theology, doctrine and even ecclesiology. With Keller’s encouragement and the support of a church, Prather enrolled in seminary courses while in prison through the Miami International Seminary. First he completed a bachelor’s degree and then a graduate degree. Ultimately he became the first MINTS student at Walker to graduate with a Doctorate of Ministry degree.

When Keller moved to a different state, Mark Casson, Metanoia’s then-executive director, became Prather’s mentor, supporting Prather’s further growth with the Lord. Casson observed that Prather possessed spiritual maturity and a strong desire to share the gospel with others. 

“He started pretty quickly sharing what he knew and had the desire to teach and to preach and to exhort and all of those things,” Casson said. 

Soon after Prather finished his graduate work, COVID hit. Volunteers weren’t allowed behind bars, but because he had his graduate degree, Prather could step in to lead classes and keep the program going.

“The Lord just really showed some grace and things went very smooth, and we were able to continue going without any issues,” he said.

Prather was finally released in December 2021. He began working in construction and got involved at Christ Fellowship PCA in Roswell, a church he had developed a relationship with while still behind bars. In June 2022, he was invited to come on board as Metanoia’s Central Georgia regional director. 

He worked hard to raise support while also driving a dump truck.

“That just tells you how much his heart is into it,” Casson said. “I don’t know too many people that work hard labor for 12 hours a day and then want to go do other things. But he did.”

For Casson, seeing Prather involved with a church outside of the prison while continuing to minister to those in prison is a great joy. Prather disciples, preaches, and teaches while also visiting other churches to share his testimony and recruit volunteers. Casson said Prather has already been instrumental at Christ Fellowship Church.

“He’s been a constant source of encouragement and love to the people there,” he said.

Casson said when he was setting up the seminary at Walker, it was because he wanted to have men inside the prison who could share the gospel with their fellow prisoners.

“I really never envisioned someone getting out and getting ordained in our denomination on the outside,” he said.

Prather considers it a privilege to be able to minister.

“Just to give back to them, it’s a blessing,” Prather said. “God said in his Word in Matthew 25 that, when we’ve done it to the least of these, we’ve done it to him. I’ve been one of the least of these, so I understand how it feels to be in that position. But I also know the benefit and the grace that comes to those who actually minister to those in prison too.”

Since he’s been released, Prather has been able to spend more time with his daughter Lynsey, now 26. They talk and text daily and when their schedules allow, go out to share a meal.

“We have a great relationship,” he said.

Lynsey was right from the start. All he needed was Jesus.