Facing a prison sentence, Colson entrusted himself to God. On July 8, he entered the detention facility, then a common post-sentencing destination of convicted government workers and members of the Mafia. Two months later, he was transferred to the prison camp at Maxwell Air Base in Montgomery, Alabama. Colson was assigned to Dormitory G and given a number symbolizing his new identity: 23226.
Prison was a shock. Colson was one of 250 prisoners in his dormitory and close to 1,000 in the prison camp overall, a common destination of political convicts (in 2014, Jesse Jackson, Jr., the former US Congressman from Illinois, served time in this facility). Colson’s first night was awful. Like many prisoners, Colson frequently woke up, losing needing rest. The nights blended into one another, leaving him perpetually discouraged.
In his daytime hours, Colson worked menial jobs, doing laundry and cleaning floors. He could have requested better jobs, but he decided against it, knowing that if he sought out special treatment from officials, he would surely receive special treatment of a different kind from inmates. During his seven months in prison, Colson put his head down, followed the rules, and focused on cultivating what Christian brotherhood he could. He attended services led by local Southern Baptist pastor Edmon Blow, a shouting preacher known widely among the prisoners as “Brother Blow.” Brother Blow’s only brush with fame was his ministry to Colson, but he played a vital role in the prisoner’s life, breathing fresh encouragement into him.
Others Colson encountered in Maxwell ran the spectrum from the formerly famous to the salt of the earth. Colson poured detergent and folded sheets in the laundry facilities alongside a former obstetrician who was once head of the American Medical Association. The man worked calmly, but not all inmates were so disposed. One prisoner in Colson’s ward was named Rodriguez. A chain-smoker who suffered numerous seizures during his brief time at Maxwell, Rodriguez was known was causing conflict. As Colson watched, Rodriguez began a fight with a tough inmate who punched Rodriguez to the floor, who was then taken to isolation. Bleeding from his ear, weeping in pain, Rodriguez cried out repeatedly for help. None came. Colson knew that he was in agony but could do nothing to help him. Several hours after the fight, Rodriguez was transferred to another prison. All that was left of his presence were “a few blood stains on the tile floor.” Though Colson tried to locate him afterward, he never heard of him again.
This tragic case was emblematic of Colson’s time at Maxwell and Holabird. He was able to start Bible studies with fellow prisoners John Corbin and Paul Kramer. He was faithful as a gospel witness and as involved as he could be in helping other inmates. But he was severely limited in his incarceration and could do little to help the struggling, angry men all around him. Colson’s sense of compassion was awakened in prison. Being unable to aid others during his sentence left him with a lifelong thirst to help society. It was during the period in which he lost his own dignity that his desire to promote the dignity of others roared to life.
Colson’s experience in this season is instructive for Christians. Prison was not an easy burden for Colson. When we encounter setbacks as Colson did, and when we face hostility because of the truth, we need to remember that God has not promised us ease and comfort in this world. He was gone way beyond that: he has given us eternal life, and even now we taste it. Our lives are hidden with Christ, bound up with him, and secured for all the ages to come.
Taken from The Colson Way by Owen Strachan. Copyright © 2015 by Owen Strachan. Used by permission of Thomas Nelson. ThomasNelson.com.
