Your Reformation Starts Here
Surprising inspiration from prison
Hi. I’ve been unhappy with my writing ideas this week and I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to get something out. Even now, I’m not entirely sure where this is going. But I decided I would just draw upon the weekend’s experience and see what comes out.
So, I’m going to write about two things I know nothing about: prison and architecture. On Saturday my family visited the Ohio State Reformatory, a prison which opened in 1896 and closed in 1990. Today, it is a historic site (with ongoing restorations), museum, and event center. Even if you’ve never heard of OSR, you might be familiar with it from movies like The Shawshank Redemption, Tango and Cash, Air Force One, and Escape Plan: The Extractors. You should visit. It’s incredible.
Approaching from the front, you realize it’s not the sort of place you’d recognize as a prison. It looks more like a castle. Once inside the administration areas, you’re taken by the beautiful and ornate office space, all wood, tile and stained glass. It’s warm and inviting. But when you get to the cell blocks, it’s, well, a prison. Prisons are metal, concrete, and block. They’re cold and harsh.
Surroundings Matter
Like I said, I don’t know anything about architecture, and I cannot speak for the motives of the designer. But I think I can make some observations about things I do know about: people and their surroundings. Inmates were incarcerated because they did something wrong. They messed up. Accordingly, a prison experience can be depressing, dehumanizing, and ugly. And a cell block could easily look miserable and hopeless, boring and brutal.
But there was much more to the design of this place. From the outside, the observer is struck by columns, tall windows, and peaked roofs with spires. Lines pointing the eye up. On the inside, the cell blocks were huge, five and six tiers tall. Opposite the cells are long vertical windows, allowing light into the darkness. And between the blocks and the central area are massive gothic arches, pointed up. There’s an incredible chapel which could hold 1,900 people (religious services were originally required). Again, tall, with columns and at one time, stained glass bearing spiritual messages. I could go on but this is what I’m getting at: The place is surprisingly inspirational. While the design is serious and intimidating, it is also uplifting and hopeful. It’s not called prison; it’s called a reformatory. From the moment you see it, the architecture seems to declare, “Your reformation starts here.”
Your Reformation Starts Here
What is reformation but a second chance? It surrounds personal sin, transgression, and imprisonment with inspiration, awe, and creativity, and it tells us there is still hope for something better. It accepts that the situation is bad, but it does not leave you there. It demands you look up, find hope, and aim higher.
Should prisoners be surrounded by an environment that says the world is cruel, ugly, boring, and hopeless? Should our sins condemn us to depressing negativity? Perhaps they should. Maybe we should all get what we deserve. That’s terrifying.
Or maybe we could grab onto greater truths. Yes, the world is broken and can be awful sometimes. But it is also beautiful, inspiring, elevating, and hopeful. We’re all trapped sometimes, stuck sometimes, suffering the ugly consequences of our actions sometimes. With what shall we surround ourselves then? Darkness and negativity? Or acceptance, inspiration, and hope? The good news of Jesus Christ is that even though we have debts to pay in this world, our debt to God was paid on the cross. You’ve sinned but you get to start again. Look up. Your reformation starts here.