Does Prison Mentorship Actually Work?

By Waldy Klassen

If you’ve never visited someone in prison, the idea of prison mentorship can raise a lot of questions. Can an ordinary volunteer really make a meaningful difference in the life of someone who may have spent years cycling through the justice system? What if the person doesn’t change? What if you say the wrong thing? What if you invest months or years into a relationship and never see the result you hoped for?

Those are fair questions. Prison mentorship doesn’t offer quick fixes. A volunteer can’t undo someone’s past, solve every problem waiting for them after release, or guarantee they’ll never return to prison.

But does it make a difference? Absolutely. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.

How I Became a Prison Visitor

I first visited someone in prison in the fall of 1972, when I was pastor of Prince of Peace Mennonite Church in Richmond. Marijuana use was becoming a concern, particularly among young people, and I had several occasions to visit youth who were incarcerated at the Youth Detention Centre in Burnaby.

Around that time, what is now M2W2 was still known simply as M2 (Man-to-Man). The organisation was recruiting Christian volunteers in the Lower Mainland to provide one-to-one visits and sponsorship to men in prison. A representative spoke at my church one Sunday morning. The presentation touched several of us deeply, and we agreed to volunteer.

A few weeks later, after some basic orientation, I was assigned to Oakalla Prison Farm. We were matched with men in the maximum-security section. I still remember passing through one heavy locked door and then two heavy barred doors before entering the visitors’ area. It was a bit nerve-racking, to say the least.

Four months later, I was asked to help coordinate the M2 program at Oakalla one day a week. That eventually led to serving as Executive Director of M2W2 from 1977 to 1998. Over those years, I had many opportunities to see what happens when someone in prison discovers that another person is willing to keep showing up.

I Have Seen Lives Change

One of the first men I sponsored was Cal. Cal had been a prolific petty thief and had already served several short prison terms. He had appeared before the same judge more than once. On this particular occasion, he received a two-year sentence for stealing doorknobs from a house scheduled for demolition.

After Cal was released, we stayed in fairly regular contact for more than thirty years. He eventually married a woman who had three children from a previous marriage. My wife and I included the whole family in our support for many years. To the best of my knowledge, Cal never served another jail sentence.

I can’t claim that one volunteer relationship explains every decision Cal made during those decades. Human lives are more complicated than that. But I can tell you that a relationship which began inside prison continued for more than thirty years, and the man I first met as a repeat offender went on to build a life in the community.

Then there was Tim. Tim had requested a connection with M2W2. When I went to interview him, he opened his mouth and released what seemed like several minutes of uninterrupted profanity. I had the feeling he was testing me. Perhaps he wanted to know whether I would walk out. When he finally stopped, took a deep breath, and sat there, I responded, “Man, that was some mouthful.”

Then I asked him again to tell me about his life. He began talking about some of the deep anger and pain he carried. A little over a year later, Tim was one of the inmates who shared his testimony at our annual banquet.

I also remember Gord, a white-collar offender who was well educated and had studied at Regent College. He developed a strong relationship with his M2W2 sponsor and eventually decided to reconnect with his church. Eventually, Gord returned to Regent College to take more courses, this time to become a chaplain. He later became a chaplain with Correctional Service Canada and served in that role for many years.

Those are only a few examples. The coordinators I worked alongside could tell many more stories about men and women whose lives changed, in significant part, through the caring involvement of their sponsors.

But we have more than our stories to point to. An independent professional assessment conducted specifically for M2W2 in 1980 concluded that people in prison who were matched with community volunteers were 33% less likely to reoffend.

That finding confirmed something many of us had already seen: healthy relationships matter.

We Need More People Willing to Show Up

During my years with M2W2, I watched the ministry grow tremendously. When I first became involved, M2W2 was active in three institutions. By the time I became Executive Director, that had grown to seven. By 1996, we were active in 15 institutions and providing follow-up when clients were transferred elsewhere. At our peak between 1994 and 1996, just over 500 men and women were visiting people in prison. Those were encouraging years.

But time moves on. Some of the people who faithfully carried this ministry for decades have grown older. Others have passed away. I still remember with gratitude, and some sadness, colleagues in ministry who are no longer with us.

The volunteer landscape has changed, too. COVID disrupted many of the rhythms that once brought people into volunteer service, and rebuilding those networks has not been easy, even years later. Families are busy. Work is demanding. Endless responsibilities are competing for people’s time.

Prison ministry asks something meaningful of a person. You have to make room in your life for someone whom much of society finds easier to forget. But people in prison shouldn’t be forgotten.

One thing I learned over all those years is very simple: They have the same needs you and I have. They need to be listened to. They need encouragement. They need to know someone sees them as a human being rather than only as the worst thing they have ever done.

And, like any of us, they need honest, healthy companionship. That doesn’t mean becoming someone’s therapist or arriving with all the answers. And it certainly doesn’t mean giving lectures every time you visit. Sometimes it means sitting down, asking a question, and listening. Sometimes it means coming back after a difficult conversation. Sometimes it means becoming one dependable person in the life of someone who has very few dependable people.

For a person in prison, that relationship offers something difficult to find behind bars: hope that a normal life, healthy relationships, and a different future are still possible.

Could You Become a Prison Mentor?

Becoming a prison mentor is a significant decision. It deserves thought, prayer, and deep questions about whether this kind of ministry is right for you. You don’t have to make that decision today, and you don’t have to make it alone. M2W2 can help you understand the process and walk with you through each step if you decide to explore it further.

A good place to begin is learning what prison mentorship is like. Read this blog post on what to expect as a prison ministry volunteer.

As you read, you’ll begin to discover what I first learned when I walked through those heavy doors at Oakalla Prison Farm: showing up matters.

And sometimes, a steady relationship opens the door to an entirely new future.