Golden anniversaries used to be special celebrations in the days when people got married and stayed married.

This year marks the golden anniversary, not of a married couple, but of an organization that invests in the lives of people whom politicians largely ignore.

It’s called Prison Fellowship and it was started by Charles Colson, a top aide to President Richard Nixon. Colson served seven months in federal prison for pleading guilty to obstruction of justice in the Watergate affair in the ‘70s, which led to Nixon’s resignation.

When he was released, Colson, who had become an evangelical Christian before his guilty plea and sentencing, would not forget the men he had known while behind bars. Cynics claimed his “religious conversation” was a ploy for a lighter sentence and sympathy from his fellow believers. After several years of consistent living and dedication to his ministry, even Bob Woodward of The Washington Post acknowledged Colson’s complete transformation, genuine faith and dedication to helping inmates and their families.

Colson enjoyed an immediate connection with inmates when he visited them after his release. He once took me along to a Virginia prison, which included men on death row. Inmates literally reached out to him and engaged him in conversation. It was remarkable to see.

Even more remarkable are the thousands of stories that have emerged from prisoners who have participated in Bible studies organized by Prison Fellowship that are taught by local people who have been instruments in the transformation of many lives.

In a visit to a “Faith and Law” meeting in Washington last week, Scott Peyton, Prison Fellowship senior director of advocacy, and Ed Simcox, co-founder of Prison Fellowship, shared reflections on Colson’s legacy (he died in 2012) and the beginning of the ministry. Peyton said that after Watergate, “(Colson’s) faith did not pull him away from public life. It did just the opposite. It pushed him toward those who are too often forgotten.”

A foundational principle of Prison Fellowship has been to support public policy that “reflects both justice and mercy and advocating for second chances of formerly incarcerated individuals.” That is a far cry from Colson’s previous “tough on crime” philosophy.

The stories of transformed lives can only be described as miraculous. One story is told by Jermaine Wilson who became the mayor of Leavenworth, Kansas, (some irony given the town has a famous prison). Wilson’s father and siblings had been to prison. He says he began using drugs at an early age because he wanted to hang out with older kids. His drug use and other criminal activities sent him to prison several times.

“While I was in prison,” he says, “I cried out to God and said 'Lord, I need you in my life.’ I spoke to Christ and I became free. The Prison Fellowship program has helped me to unlearn those negative things that I had learned.” When he got out the last time it was difficult for him to find employment because of his record. A local church gave him a job cutting grass. Ultimately, he ran for mayor and won. Wilson’s criminal record was expunged in 2015.

Politicians promise to make our lives better, but that is beyond their power. Wilson and many other current and former inmates have discovered a greater and genuine power available to those who will receive it.

If you want to support something that truly transforms lives, instead of believing the empty promises of politicians, visit prisonfellowship.org. You might wish them a happy 50th anniversary while you are there.

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