Evangelism: Prison Alpha Debuts in Texas

Heavy-soled black boots and prison white scrubs identify Sherri Howe as a felon serving time at Halbert State Prison in Burnet, an hour northwest of Austin, Texas. "I never felt God could forgive me for the things I have done," a tearful Howe confides to attendees at North America's first Prison Alpha conference. "Through Jesus' death, I've been forgiven, and the past is behind me."

Howe credits her transformed life to Alpha, the London-born course in basic Christianity that a half-million unchurched or new believers will take this year (CT, Feb. 9, 1998, p. 36). Holy Trinity Brompton, London's Anglican church that launched the 10-week program 22 years ago, tried Alpha in a British prison in 1993. Since then, Alpha has spread like a crime wave to most of the United Kingdom's 137 prisons, to prisons in 16 foreign countries, and now to inmates in the United States.

LOCAL OUTREACH: Burnet's Prison Alpha was conceived when Jeff Black and his wife, Barbara, planted a new Episcopal congregation, Saint Barnabas Church, in Austin. They looked to minister in jails as a church outreach.

The Blacks chose an oft-overlooked people group, says Bill Birdwood, chaplain of England's Dartmoor Prison. Birdwood employs Alpha as a central part of his ministry to inmates. Prisons are rife with spiritually impoverished people who need intervention if they are to turn their lives around. Often, incarcerated men and women have reached bottom and are open to just about anything that offers a legitimate way out. "If there's one word to describe what prison is all about, it's loss, especially loss of hope," Birdwood says. Enter the gospel, which offers a lasting change of heart and behavior. Prison Alpha presents Christianity in a simple format that includes the same elements as Alpha outside prison walls: worship, teaching, small-group discussion, and a meal on special occasions.

IMPRESSIVE RESULTS: In a typical British Prison Alpha course of a dozen "guests," as class attendees are called, there are always a few dropouts. But Prison Alpha's rate of success in stimulating new Christian commitment is greater than the program's free-world counterpart.

That follows not just in England, but also in other countries. Birdwood cites prison revivals in Argentina that have reduced converts' recidivism from around 75 percent to a single digit. All 27 inmates in one Norwegian prison took Alpha, and 26 became Christians.

Last summer, Black brought his vision to try Alpha in a Texas prison to Gov. George W. Bush, a strong supporter of church-state partnership in combating social ills. Black says the governor's interest was piqued by the goal of linking Alpha graduates upon their release to Saint Barnabas and other Alpha churches, which would form a supportive network to ease their return to society.

"Huge numbers of these people don't make it," Black says. "What Prison Alpha holds out is the hope for additional support in the community."

Bush's director of research and special programs, Don Willett, remembers that after meeting with Black, "Bush turned to me and said, 'Make this happen.'"

Willett describes Prison Alpha as a "faith-based initiative"—a religious group's social program. During the governor's tenure, he has touted tapping such programs as more effective to combat society's woes. Willett says, "The most sure-fire crime prevention program around is changing someone's heart, soul, and conscience."

LOVE AND ACCEPTANCE: In February, Black met chaplain Jackie Thomison of the Ellen Hal bert Substance Abuse Felony Punishment Facility in Burnet County. Thomison liked what he heard and set up Alpha for the 37 Halbert offenders who wanted to take it.

In April, a dozen Saint Barnabas volunteers began their first of 10 weekly visits to Burnet. Most of the three dozen who finished the class either became Christians or recommitted to their faith.

Thomison says that he plans to offer the class next year and has encouraged his chaplain colleagues to carry the program to their prisons. He suggests that inmates take Alpha before in-depth studies that assume a grasp of Christianity.

Andria Love, 19, says she looked upon Christians as a clique of hypocrites. Then Thomison suggested she try Alpha. At the course's end, she asked the chaplain to baptize her. Love owes her drastic about-face to Alpha's simplicity, which helped her understand the gospel, coupled with the concern that Saint Barnabas volunteers gave by showing up every week to teach, share, and listen to her. "When we would hurt, they would hurt," Love says.

Halbert promotes other classes, along with 12-step programs that center on faith in God. But Love says she had no understanding of God before Alpha. "I felt like my soul had done so much. I thought, Who am I to ask for forgiveness? I would cry and want a different life."

The eighth-grade dropout has earned her GED certificate while in the Burnet prison. She believes that God will help her stay crime-free once she is released from Halbert. "I still don't know what I'm going to do with my life, but I know I've got to be strong and God will show me."

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