Prisons and Prayer; Or, a Labor of Love

At seventeen, Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton buried her parents and nearly buried her faith. What she found instead was a calling that would consume the next two decades: walking into cells where society had discarded its broken people. This is her account of prison ministry at the turn of the twentieth century, drawn from two decades spent behind bars with murderers, thieves, and the mentally ill. She writes not from a distance but from the depths of her own losses, understanding that the women and men she visits are not so different from her younger self, abandoned and desperate for someone to see their worth. Her gospel is one of radical presence in the worst places on earth, refusing to look away from suffering or condemn those already condemned by courts and public opinion. The book endures because it refuses to let readers forget the human beings society would prefer to forget. It is for anyone who has ever felt discarded, or anyone who has ever wondered whether compassion has limits.