The corollary is that genuine trust, when it develops, is one of the most precious commodities behind bars. My friendship with Ismael, a fellow evangelical, was built over months of shared faith, shared worship, and mutual vulnerability. When he showed me how he hid his cell phone battery under a rubber band on his wrist to prevent it from being confiscated, he was demonstrating a level of trust that would seem trivial in the free world but was profound in ours. “One must constantly be changing the location of one’s cell phone, so the guards do not get it,” he explained, and in that simple sentence was a world of caution, experience, and survival instinct. He later showed his true colors as a hypocrite, and our “friendship” ended. Such occurrences are commonplace in prison.

How to Maintain Dignity and Routine

If the monotony of prison is its most insidious feature, then routine is the antidote. The men who lost their minds behind bars were, almost without exception, the men who had no structure—who would sleep until noon if they could, watch television until their eyes glazed, and drift through the weeks without purpose. The men who survived with their souls intact were those who imposed discipline upon themselves, regardless of what the institution imposed upon them.

My routine, once established, looked like this: wake up, pray, read my Bible, exercise (occasionally bench press with makeshift light weights, walking the patio for fifteen minutes), write (I worked on my books constantly, which was essential for my mental health), play chess, attend to legal correspondence, communicate with friends and family on my cell phone, and participate in worship twice a week with the same cell phone. In the cell at night, I sang hymns, read, prayed, and studied. I memorized Italian vocabulary. I edited my manuscripts on a phone screen when the opportunity arose; otherwise, all was done by hand on the patio. These activities were not mere pastimes. They were acts of resistance against the dehumanizing effect of confinement.

The Apostle Paul wrote his most profound letters from prison. He did not write them because he had nothing better to do. He wrote them because productive work in service of the kingdom of God is one of the chief means by which a Christian maintains his identity when the world has stripped away everything else. If you are incarcerated, find work—intellectual, spiritual, practical—and pursue it with the same discipline you would bring to any vocation. “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might” (Ecclesiastes 9:10).

Pretrial Detention vs. Sentenced Confinement

One distinction that outsiders rarely appreciate is the difference between pretrial detention and sentenced confinement. In Chile, as in many countries, a man can spend years behind bars before his trial concludes. I waited nearly eleven months before my first trial date, which was then postponed by another two months due to the “pandemic.” Pretrial detainees live in a legal limbo that is psychologically torturous. You have not been convicted, yet you are imprisoned. You are presumed innocent, yet you are treated the same as men who have been found guilty. You cannot plan for the future because you do not know whether your future will be spent in prison or in freedom.

Moreover, pretrial detainees in Chilean prisons had fewer privileges than convicted inmates in certain respects. Parole is unavailable. Work-release programs are unavailable. Benefits such as Sunday and then weekend home visits, which convicted men could apply for after serving one-half of their sentence, did not apply to the accused. I was locked in the same cells, ate the same food, and endured the same indignities as men serving twenty-five-year sentences—but without even the cold comfort of a defined endpoint.

For the Christian, pretrial detention is a particular test of faith because the temptation to bitterness is acute. “I have not even been convicted!” the heart cries. “How can this be just?” It is not just—not by any human standard. But the sovereignty of God extends over unjust circumstances as readily as over just ones. That lesson was one of the most important that Baptist Pastors John Bunyan and Adoniram Judson learned during their unjust imprisonment. Joseph was imprisoned on a false accusation. His imprisonment was not just. It was ordained. These two truths are not in conflict; they are held together by the hand of a God who works all things according to the counsel of His own will (Ephesians 1:11).

Action Steps

If you are newly incarcerated: Establish a written daily routine within your first two weeks. Include Bible reading, prayer, physical exercise, and at least one productive activity (writing, studying, learning a skill). Post the routine where you can see it. Follow it even when—especially when—you do not feel like it.

If you are a ministry volunteer: Bring practical items that make daily life bearable—hygiene products, nutritious snacks when allowed, reading material, writing supplies. Ask the inmate what he actually needs rather than assuming. Many churches bring Bibles but never think to bring toothpaste.

If you are a family member: Understand the visitation rules thoroughly before your first visit. Arrive on time—prisons will turn you away without hesitation. Bring what is permitted and no more. Your consistent presence is worth more than any material gift. Do not stop coming.

Study the daily routine of the prison where your loved one is held. Understanding the rhythm of their day—when they eat, when they are locked down, when they can receive calls—will help you time your contact and visits for maximum encouragement.

Discussion Questions

Why is routine so important for maintaining mental and spiritual health in prison? How does this principle apply to difficult seasons in your own life outside of prison?

What is the difference between the official rules and the unwritten ones in a prison context? How does a Christian navigate both without compromising his integrity?

How should the church respond to the physical conditions described in this chapter—cold showers, inadequate food, minimal medical care? Is it the church’s responsibility to address these material needs, or only spiritual ones?

Read Ecclesiastes 9:10 and Ephesians 1:11. How do these verses work together to help a Christian endure the monotony and injustice of pretrial detention?