Issue 2 | 2023

Phoenix, Arizona. I would need everything
I had learned in Taiwan, as God was about
to do a new thing in our congregation
(Isaiah 43:19). And He would use formerly
incarcerated people to do it.
Ministering to former inmates was
the one thing that had not made it into
my busy schedule. Yes, I had known exoffenders
over the years and had heard
their powerful redemption stories. I’d even
visited the county jail with my brother who
is a police chaplain and student pastor.
I admired my brother’s work and his
special relationship with former gangsters,
but I’d never imagined myself in that
role. Nor had I ever been in a Christian
community with a significant constituency
of ex-cons. That was about to change,
however, after an unexpected visit from
two men—Collis, the founder and director
of Alongside Ministries (ASM), and Austin,
the men’s director there.
ASM is a dynamic local prison ministry
that matches men and women behind bars
with Christian mentors before they are
released and provides residential discipleship
training for nine more months after
their release from prison.
Collis and Austin had discovered a missing
piece to the intricate puzzle of rehabilitation
and reentry, and they were on a
mission to put this piece in place within
their ministry. That’s what brought them
through FCC’s doors.
They wanted a church home for the men
and women in their program and all future
ASM programmers. They met with me and
my coworker, Jon, to discuss their idea.
“Pastor Chuck,” Collis began, “our men
and women need to experience what it
means to be part of a church family. We’ve
hopped around Sunday after Sunday, visiting
various congregations that support our
ministry. We need to find a church home
so our men and women can experience
life in the body of Christ.
“We recently polled our folks to find out
where they would want to settle down, and
it was unanimous. They like the biblical
focus of FCC’s teaching and always feel
welcomed. So what do you think? Can we
make this our home?”
I was glad the men and women had
WE WOULD
LOVE LIKE JESUS,
NO MATTER
HOW MESSY OR
UNCOMFORTABLE
IT GOT.
chosen FCC over all the other churches
in town, but I was also wary of an influx of
ex-cons into our membership. How would
our people react? Then I remembered the
heart of God for this group of people.
There was no question about what He’d
have us do. He loves formerly incarcerated
people the same as He does anyone else.
His love had redeemed them from a deep,
Chuck’s wife,
Kathy, shares his
passion for overseas
missions and his
heart for all God’s
children.
dark pit. How could we as a body of believers
refuse them a place in God’s family?
So there was only one answer. We would
love like Jesus, no matter how messy or
uncomfortable it got.
Jon and I had no idea the massive evolution
our church was about to undergo, but
we sensed God was orchestrating something
big. Our part in His plan was to say
yes to the opportunity and trust God with
the results. We could do that.
But then, Collis presented another
request that caught us a bit off-guard.
“Guys,” he said, “not only do our men and
women want to attend the main service,
but they want to spend their entire Sunday
mornings at FCC. Is there a class they
could join?”
I began to sweat a little.
We offered small groups through the
week at FCC and around the city but had
eliminated our Sunday classes. Well, except
for one attended by the congregation’s
most senior crowd.
Faithful grandmas and grandpas who
had led our church through challenging
brush fires and storms comprised this
class. Still, we weren’t sure they would be
excited about 30 formerly incarcerated
men and women descending upon their
classroom. I wasn’t sure they could handle
the culture shock.
We informed Collis and Austin that we
would check with our church elders and
get back to them.
We met with three of the church’s patriarchs
and recounted our meeting with
Collis and Austin. I smiled as I spoke,
hoping to soften the impact of the news
that FCC would now be the home church
of a community of former inmates. Then
I dropped the big news: “And they want to
join your Sunday School class!”
I held my breath, expecting a negative
response, but the men simply said they
would ask the class. The following Sunday,
after their group met, the men said,
“The class thinks it sounds like something
Jesus would want us to do.” I’d never been
prouder to be their pastor.
It’s been 12 years since that first group of
pierced and tattooed wonders descended
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Issue 02 / 2023
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