Imprisonment does not merely interrupt a family’s income. It annihilates it—and then adds enormous new expenses on top of the loss. My financial situation was devastated. I had been a college professor, author, consultant, and entrepreneur, and I had recently finished remodeling a home with my crew. All of that ceased the moment I was arrested. My wife Pamela was left to support herself and manage the household on whatever she could earn or receive from supporters. Meanwhile, the legal fees mounted relentlessly—lawyers, appeals, experts, translators, filing fees. And this was not the first time financial predation had broken me. In my earlier divorce, my former (church covenant) wife, Lesle Dean Long, a South Carolina internal medicine doctor making over twenty thousand dollars per month, had demanded over eleven hundred dollars per month in child support and medical insurance premiums from me, a man with six other children to support on a couple of thousand dollars monthly. Her demands were obviously out of spite, and the system facilitated it. She had abandoned me a few months after our son Paul was born in 2006, moved out, and filed for divorce. I did not know that she had suffered from bipolar I disorder, psychosis of hearing voices in the air, or thinking that people with a 1 on their plates were trying to kill her. Only after Lesle filed for divorce did her complete psychiatric file reach me—a thick record documenting habitual lying since her days at Bob Jones High School and two attempted suicides, on top of the bipolar I disorder and psychosis.

Worse came after she moved out with Paul: she testified in court that I had thrown her across a table, slammed her head against a mantle, and choked her—charges the medical examination, conducted immediately afterward, completely disproved. The only marks on her body were self-inflicted bruises on her ankles. The lie nonetheless secured her immediate custody of Paul. Six gut-wrenching months later, the charges against me were expunged—but by then Paul was already gone. Little did I know that this trial would be overshadowed by another, thirteen to twenty years later, with a wife of a very different character, committed to helping her husband rather than hell-bent on destroying him.

The financial destruction wrought by incarceration is comprehensive. The imprisoned man cannot earn anything close to a normal income, unless he is very poor to begin with. His professional credentials are tainted. His career is interrupted, often permanently. His assets may be seized or squandered in his absence. His credit is destroyed. His ability to provide for his family—a biblical obligation that 1 Timothy 5:8 calls a basic requirement of faith—is stripped from him by the state.

For the family, the costs of supporting an incarcerated loved one are staggering. Informal economy deposits. Putting money on cell phone cards. Travel to the prison via Uber to get the ever-so-precious food sacks there safely. Time off work for visits. Legal consultations. The hidden expenses of prison life—the inflated food prices, the mandatory bribes, the replacement of stolen possessions—all fall on the family outside.

The church’s response to this reality has been, in my experience, inadequate. Most congregations will take up a one-time offering for a family in crisis. Few will establish ongoing financial support for the months and years that incarceration actually lasts. The biblical model is clear: “But whoso hath this world’s good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?” (1 John 3:17). This is not a suggestion. It is a test of genuine faith.

The Church’s Failure

I must speak directly here, because too much is at stake for diplomacy. The church, as a general rule, fails the families of incarcerated Christians. It fails them in three ways.

First, it fails them by disappearing. The initial outpouring of concern—the phone calls, the casseroles, the prayer requests—fades within weeks. The family is left alone with its crisis while the congregation moves on to the next headline.

Second, it fails them by judging. The family feels the weight of unspoken assumptions: “What kind of man gets arrested? What kind of wife stays with a convict? What kind of family produces a criminal?” These assumptions are rarely voiced, but they are communicated through averted eyes, awkward silences, and the slow withdrawal of social invitations. The family becomes a pariah in the congregation that should be its refuge.

Third, it fails them by spiritualizing. “God will provide.” “Just trust the Lord.” “This is your cross to bear.” These statements, offered without accompanying action, are not ministry. They are evading. James demolishes this approach with devastating clarity: “If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body; what doth it profit?” (James 2:15-16).

The family of the incarcerated Christian needs three things from the church: presence (consistent, long-term relational engagement), provision (financial, logistical, and practical support), and protection (advocacy against the social stigma and institutional indifference that assault them from every direction). Any church that provides all three is doing the work of Christ. Any church that provides none has forfeited its right to call itself a body of believers. How can I be franker?

Action Steps

If you are an incarcerated father or mother, write to your children regularly. Tell them you love them. Tell them the truth about your situation in age-appropriate terms. Do not pretend everything is fine. Do not blame others in ways that poison your children against the world. Be honest, be loving, and be present through whatever means are available.

If you are a pastor or elder, assign a deacon or mature couple to the family of every incarcerated church member. Make it their specific responsibility to check in weekly, provide practical help, and report the family’s needs to the leadership. Do not leave this to chance or general goodwill.

Establish a benevolence fund with dedicated resources for families of incarcerated members. Budget for at least six months of support. Review and extend as needed.

Include the family in the life of the church. Invite them to fellowship meals. Drive their children to the youth group. Sit with them in the pew. Make sure they know, by your consistent actions, that they have not been forgotten or judged.

Pray for the marriage specifically. Pray for the preservation of the marital bond across the separation. Pray for the spouse’s emotional and spiritual health. Pray for the children’s protection from bitterness, anger, and despair.

Discussion Questions

How does incarceration uniquely assault the institution of marriage? What resources does the church have to support marriages under this specific kind of stress?

Read 1 Corinthians 12:26. How does this verse apply to the families of incarcerated believers? What does it look like practically for a congregation to “suffer with” a prisoner’s family?

Why does the church tend to disappear after the initial crisis response? What structural or cultural changes would help congregations sustain long-term support?

How should the church handle the situation when the incarcerated person is genuinely guilty of a serious crime? Does guilt diminish the church’s obligation to the family?