Persistence after Prison…

October 25^th, 2021. I’ll never forget it. America was still partially locked down. But not me. Not anymore.

I had been locked down for twenty years, and that morning, I was finally going home.

I walked out of the processing area through a door I had never used before. I knew I would never see that room again, and I had no desire to. I carried two cardboard boxes holding the remains of my former life, including stories I hoped to publish, photographs of people I refused to forget, and paperwork that outlined a future that finally seemed feasible.

In that moment, my past, present, and future existed in the same space.

I walked through the gate a free man. My brother waited outside in his rental car. Two days prior, he had flown down from Maryland just for this moment. First, we hugged. Then we cried. We loaded my meager belongings into the trunk and drove to his hotel, where I changed into the first set of real clothes I had worn since October 26^th, 2001.

When I went in, I was 23.

When I came home, I was 43.

The world I left behind no longer existed.

I had just completed a twenty-year sentence for the accidental death of my son. For two decades, I had lived removed from the world and watched it change. The life I returned to bore little resemblance to the one I had known.

My plan was to take six months to regain my footing and rediscover who I was. There was no pressure to work because my late father had left me a trust fund, and my siblings pooled resources with me to purchase a home. Many of the immediate concerns faced by returning citizens were not mine.

And yet, something within me was restless.

I wanted to finish school. More than that, I wanted to write. If I could find a university that would allow me to pursue a degree in writing, it felt like the right next step.

Faith had guided me long before my release. I had given my life to the Lord at thirteen, and despite a journey that took me to prison, I never abandoned that commitment. I believed God had called me to write, to communicate truth, hope, and purpose through words. Returning to school felt like obedience, not ambition.

I explored several institutions, but none of them seemed right. Then a random email led me to Grand Canyon University. I did not research it as deeply as I should have, something my brother often reminds me to do, but I saw that GCU offered a writing program. I applied and

was accepted. A student advisor named John contacted me and walked me through the financial aid process. That was when I discovered the obstacles standing in my way.

Many years earlier, I had attended the University of Georgia and left without finishing my degree. In addition to unfinished coursework, I carried decades-old unpaid student loans and an unresolved emergency loan from a campus credit union. Those debts prevented me from fully enrolling at GCU.

John helped me initiate contact with the agency overseeing the student loan debt. To my surprise, the balance had been forgiven. There was nothing left to repay. After twenty years of incarceration, it felt like an unearned mercy, a moment of grace I could only attribute to God’s provision.

The credit union loan remained, but this time, I had the means to resolve it. Paying off a debt that had followed me for over two decades felt like closing a chapter long overdue.

With those barriers removed, my application for student loans was approved. Scholarships were offered. My tuition was covered. I waited eagerly for my first class.

That first course was an introduction not only to Grand Canyon University, but to the habits and discipline required for academic success. More importantly, it introduced me to GCU’s mission. I learned that GCU did not simply stand for Grand Canyon University; it could just as easily mean Great Commission University. Faith was not supplemental here; it was foundational.

I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be a college graduate. And I believed God had orchestrated every step that led me to this place. Each obstacle reinforced the sense that this path was intentional.

Prison had been its own kind of training. I endured hardship, loss, and isolation, and yet remained anchored in faith. If I could survive that, I believed I could succeed in college.

GCU encouraged me to walk fully in my Christian worldview, not to conceal it. I was not simply a student; I was a faithful one. I was new to the world again, but I learned to see it through the lens of someone walking with Christ.

While incarcerated, I read the Bible cover to cover every year. I studied whenever materials were available. I served as a chaplain’s aide, gaining access to reference tools like Strong’s Concordance and Vine’s Dictionary. Still, my study resources were limited. One of the greatest gifts GCU offered was access to its extensive online Bible study database. My education now extends in two directions—academic development and spiritual growth.

Each class builds upon the last, like steps on a ladder. In prison ministry, there is a program called Kairos, meaning “God’s special time.” The belief is that when God moves, it is always with purpose. Each course arrived when I needed it most, preparing me for what came next.

Every professor reinforced that education here is guided by faith. Weekly scripture, discussion prompts rooted in belief, and assignments aligned with GCU’s broader mission continuing to remind me that learning and faith are not separate pursuits.

GCU became a place where I did not have to fear walking in truth. In prison, counselors often tell returning citizens to find a positive root and hold onto it. I found mine grafted firmly into Christ.

Perhaps most importantly, GCU helped me see myself differently. I was not treated as a former inmate, but as a student with something to contribute. My experiences were not rejected; they were welcomed. That acceptance mattered more than I can adequately express, and I believe God knew I would need it.

I did not have to return to school. I could have taken time to drift, to recover, to wait. But I did not believe waiting was what God had asked of me.

I believed He had given me something to do.

That belief led me to Grand Canyon University. It is here that I am learning the skills, discipline, and confidence required to complete the work I believe God has placed before me. GCU helped me see myself not as the world often sees a returning citizen, but as someone still being shaped, still being called, and still capable of purpose.

I walked out of prison carrying boxes filled with reminders of who I had been.
At GCU, I am learning how to build what comes next.