Why Should We Care About Prisoners?

It was my mother who first sparked my curiosity in engaging with prisoners. As a volunteer prison counsellor, she held biweekly meetings with incarcerated people, listening to their stories, struggles and moments of hope. Over family dinners, she would share the situations these individuals found themselves in and how counseling was breaking through the emotional walls they had built around themselves.
 
For most of my life, prison ministry was never something I considered—not as my career and certainly not as my calling. Over my life, one of my guiding verses has been Matthew 25: “For I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink…I was in prison, and you came to visit me.” The last part of that verse was the one I often skipped over.
 
Four years ago, the verse resurfaced in my life and this time, it wouldn’t let go. God began to transform my heart, and I was convicted of how I, and much of the Church, have often overlooked this calling. That conviction led me to Prison Fellowship International, where I’ve been able to live out this calling in a tangible, purposeful way, working alongside others who believe in redemption and grace for those the world has forgotten.
 
As I’ve walked this road, I’ve realized why caring about prisoners matters. It’s not just a good deed, but a core expression of faith. Here are four truths that have shaped my heart:
 

Compassion looks past the crime to the person

In a world that often defines people by their worst mistakes, compassion calls us to look deeper. Many individuals behind bars are people shaped by lives of poverty, trauma and injustice who made poor decisions that altered their lives. In places like Sri Lanka and Nepal, I’ve encountered individuals imprisoned for stealing food to provide for their families living in desperate poverty. These stories reveal a wider context of inequality, where systematic injustices and lack of access to healthcare, education or employment drive people towards choices they might not otherwise make. While I do not excuse nor diminish the harm caused by crime, we must hold space for both justice and mercy. As followers of Jesus, we’re invited to see beyond someone’s crime and into their heart to recognize their humanity and believe in the possibility of restoration.
 

Families are the silent, forgotten victims

When someone goes to prison, it’s not only the individual who suffers; their families, especially children, often quietly bear the weight of that loss. I recently met 11-year-old Su Lin in Cambodia. Her dad is imprisoned, and her mother left the family in the care of their grandmother. When the burden of caring for them became too great, SuLin’s brothers were put up for adoption. She doesn’t know if or when she’ll see her father again or whether her mum will ever return.
 
Her story is heartbreaking, but just one of millions. Around the world, children of prisoners are shunned by their community for crimes they did not commit and left isolated in cycles of poverty, trauma and often, generational crime. Daily, I have the privilege of working with Prison Fellowship International’s network of ministries to support children like Su Lin, but so many more slip through the cracks. When we forget prisoners, we also abandon their families, the silent victims who deserve care, hope, dignity and a chance at a brighter future.
 

True justice restores, not just punishes

I’ve seen how forgiveness, accountability and a path to restoration can heal not just prisoners, but entire communities. In the Solomon Islands, a culture deeply rooted in a strong, connected community, this type of redemption is being lived out. Before prisoners are eligible for parole, they are invited to participate in the Sycamore Tree Project, a program that aims to foster healing and reconciliation by introducing restorative principles. When all parties are ready, local pastors facilitate a reconciliation meeting between the offender and victim, often joined by their families and community leaders. These difficult but grace-filled conversations lead to healing, accountability and forgiveness. Our findings have been powerful: reoffending rates in these communities have dropped dramatically. This is what radical, biblical reconciliation looks like: messy and challenging but life-changing.
 

Faith calls us to love the forgotten

At the heart of the Christian faith is a call to love those whom the world has cast aside, including those behind bars, so often labelled as unworthy and left behind. With many correctional systems still prioritizing punitive justice, I believe we are called to reckon deeply with what it means to advocate for grace in a society focused on punishment. It’s easy to love the loveable, those who love us back or meet our expectations. Yet Jesus Christ calls us to something deeper. Our faith is truly tested when we choose to see those incarcerated not as problems or criminals, but as beloved humans, created by God and not beyond His redemption. This is where the Church shines: by embracing the outcast, reaching the prisoners in the most remote locations and offering tangible hope through God’s Word. It is about living out Matthew 25:36, not just in words, but in action. Prisoners are not beyond hope. Their families are not invisible. Their futures are not sealed. The Church is called to bring light into the darkest places. In doing so, we discover the depth of God’s mercy for them and for us.