Behind the Walls
A Practical Guide to Christian Prison Ministry from the Inside Out
© 2026 John M. Cobin. All rights reserved.
Nevertheless, I decided that I had to rest in God’s Providence. That decision—to rest in Providence rather than be consumed by anxiety—was itself an exercise of the spirit described in 2 Timothy 1:7. A sound mind does not mean a mind free of concern. It means a mind governed by trust in the sovereign God rather than by the tyranny of circumstances. My lawyers were specifically asking for a new verdict. Whether they could also preclude the attempted murder charges was unclear—ditto for whether they could change me to home arrest. In the final analysis, the national Public Defender’s team that prepared and argued my appeal thought it went well. They expected a favorable outcome in twenty days. I figured it was best for my sanity to stay optimistic and rest in my faith.
Courage as Spiritual Warfare
The spirit of fear is one of the adversary’s most effective weapons in prison. It operates not primarily through dramatic threats—though those exist—but through the slow, grinding pressure of uncertainty, discomfort, petty tyranny, and the relentless assault on human dignity. The man who succumbs to that fear becomes passive, compliant, broken. He stops singing. He stops reading. He stops maintaining his appearance, his routines, his faith. He becomes what the system wants him to become: a managed body occupying a numbered cell.
The spirit of power that Paul describes to Timothy is the antidote. It does not require dramatic acts of defiance. It requires only that a man refuse to surrender the ground that God has given him. Singing “How Great Thou Art” from a cell window is a small act. Sharing burritos with fellow inmates is a small act. Reading a book on the patio while birds drop their gifts from above is a small act. Maintaining a teaching ministry via Zoomcast, playing chess with discipline, insisting on clean clothes and a proper mattress, refusing to confess to crimes one did not commit—these are all small acts. But taken together, they constitute a form of spiritual warfare. They are the daily, unglamorous outworking of a spirit that has not been given over to fear.
The four enemies of the Christian—sin, Satan, the state, and false religion—were all present in módulo 118. Sin was visible in the drug addiction, the violence, the theft, and the sexual disorder that pervaded prison culture. Satan operated through the despair, the manipulation, the constant temptation to abandon faith and principle. The state, in the form of the gendarmería, exercised its power through petty officials like Castro and through a judicial system that had kept me incarcerated for over a year on charges arising from an act of lawful self-defense. And false religion appeared in the sentimental, contentless evangelicalism that some inmates professed without any evidence of regeneration.
Against all four enemies, the spirit of power, love, and a sound mind was the believer’s primary resource. Not because it made the enemies disappear, but because it kept the believer standing while the enemies did their worst. “Wherefore take unto you the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand” (Ephesians 6:13). Standing was the objective. In prison, standing often looked like singing.
Action Steps
Cultivate small daily disciplines of spiritual resistance. Singing hymns, reading Scripture, maintaining personal routines, and keeping a clean living space are not trivial acts in a degrading environment. They are forms of spiritual warfare against the spirit of fear. Whether you are an inmate, a visitor, or a ministry volunteer, identify the small habits that preserve dignity and faithfulness, and practice them with consistency.
Serve one another concretely within the body. Miami did laundry, sewed pants, cleaned bathrooms, and reheated food. I shared meals, taught chess, preached the Bible and the Gospel, distributed supplies, and gave English lessons. Identify the specific, practical ways you can serve those around you—especially fellow believers in difficult circumstances—and commit to doing so without waiting for recognition or reciprocity.
Support the families of the imprisoned. Pamela’s trips to the American store, her encomienda deliveries, her taxi rides through fog, her bank transfers on behalf of inmates she had never met—all were forms of sacrificial service that sustained not just me but the entire network of mutual dependence in 118. Churches should provide concrete support to prisoners’ families, including transportation, shopping, financial assistance, emotional encouragement, and prayer.
Refuse to confess to sins or crimes you did not commit. The prison system’s incentive structure—requiring inmates to confess fabricated guilt to qualify for early-release or parole benefits—is a form of institutional lying. Christians must not participate in it. A sound mind, as Paul describes it, is a mind committed to truth even when truth is costly. Albeit inept and full of grandiose schemes to prove my innocence at trial, my public defenders probably meant well amid their mediocrity. For instance, Naomi Órdenes, the young lawyer from the Public Defender’s office, associated with the broader legal team working on my appeal and a related case in Santiago, headed initially by Guillermo Améstica and later by Claudio Fierro and Sebastián Undurraga del Río, understood this principle. She encouraged me to stand firm and keep hope. The church should support those who refuse to bear false witness, even against themselves.
Pray specifically for imprisoned believers and their legal situations. My Supreme Court hearing, the possible indulto (pardon) legislation, the various legal maneuverings around my case—all of these were matters for specific, informed prayer. Generic prayers for “prisoners” are better than nothing, but the command of Hebrews 13:3 is to remember those in bonds “as bound with them.” That requires knowing the details and praying accordingly.
Discussion Questions
Paul wrote 2 Timothy 1:7 from prison. How does the context of his own imprisonment change the way you read his words about power, love, and a sound mind? What would it look like to live out that verse in a situation of confinement, uncertainty, or institutional hostility?
The chapter describes a network of mutual service among inmates—laundry, food sharing, bathroom cleaning, mattress procurement, sewing, and more. How does this informal economy of generosity reflect the body of Christ as described in 1 Corinthians 12? What can churches outside prison walls learn from the way believers and even unbelievers cooperated in módulo 118?
Angelino had spent thirty of his forty-seven years in prison, came from a family of criminals, and described himself as having “criminal DNA.” How does the doctrine of total depravity help us understand his situation? What is the relationship between generational sin, personal responsibility, and the hope of regeneration?
The chapter describes several forms of courage: singing hymns from a locked cell, maintaining a teaching ministry via Zoomcast, refusing to confess to crimes not committed, and resting in God’s Providence regarding the Supreme Court appeal. Which of these forms of courage do you find most challenging to imagine practicing yourself, and why? How does the promise of 2 Timothy 1:7 address the specific fears that would make such courage difficult?