There are moments when all you can do is stand in speechless amazement as you look at the work of the Lord in your life. Standing in the Rose Garden next to my friend, Richard Beasley, and being honored by the president of the United States was one of those moments. It was a moment only God could orchestrate.
The first time I met Richard Beasley was in 2004. On that day, I was handcuffed to a cold, stainless-steel table in a Las Vegas holding cell, being charged with a string of armed robberies. I was wild with anger as I glared at the FBI agent assigned to my case. The charges against me were long, and I could see my life flashing before my eyes. My anger, however, had surrendered to a peace that knocked me off my guard. Even with all the internal chaos of my heart, something about this man’s demeanor assured me that everything would be okay. I didn’t know it then, but now I do—it was the presence of God that this man carried.
Fast forward 14 years to this scene in the Rose Garden, almost nine years to the day that I had emerged from behind 50-foot federal prison walls. On this day, I was a free and transformed man, standing side-by-side with Mr. Beasley, my friend and mentor. We had both been invited to attend a National Day of Prayer ceremony, so that President Trump could recognize the power of God to transform lives as he highlighted the importance of faith-based programs in the prison system. God had used this godly FBI agent, as well as a God-fearing federal judge and sheriff, to rescue my life from the dominion of darkness that I had surrendered to for so many years. The story I’m about to tell you is a living testimony to the amazing transforming power of God’s love.
My journey to incarceration began at a young age. I am a product of a fatherless home. My mother did her best to protect my five siblings and me from the traps of the streets of New York but without a father in our home, my brothers and I were naturally drawn to there in an attempt to validate our manhood. The criminal activity that followed led to a long, hard road of incarceration for us all. I was the second to the youngest and caught my first felony conviction at the age of 16 for robbery.
In her attempts to shield us, my mother sent us to our grandmother’s home in Mississippi each summer. Her name was Madea, and she loved Jesus. I loved going to Madea’s house. We would chase chickens, eat watermelons, and run around her property. She took us to her little Baptist church where she played the piano. My siblings and I would gather around that dusty old piano and sing hymn after hymn. The songs had little meaning for me at the time. What I loved most was the quarters people would toss on the piano, indicating their approval of our singing.
But at the end of each summer, we’d get on the bus and head back to the streets of New York—back to gang life, crime, and drugs. The memories of our carefree, peace-filled summers would quickly fade away.
By the time I was in my early twenties, the rest of my family had left New York and moved to Las Vegas. Lonely, I decided to join them. Let me tell you, I went from the frying pan into the fire! All the things Sin City is famous for became intricate parts of my life, and I fell deeper and deeper into a life of crime.
There was something just ridiculously exciting about that lifestyle for me. Gambling, drugs, alcohol, robbery… I was in and out of county jail more times than I can remember. I spent time in state prisons before I met Richard Beasley and was locked up on a federal charge.
I remember the day the Feds arrested me. It was quite the scene. I was as high as a kite and driving in a complete stupor when a helicopter with a spotlight hovered over my car. Police cars swarmed around me. Police dogs barked loudly. Everyone was ready to pounce. There was no way out…and I wasn’t going down without a fight.
I reached under my dashboard to grab the two 9-millimeter pistols I kept tucked away for moments like these, but they were gone. Suddenly I heard a voice that seemed to come from the backseat of my car. “Relax, Jon, I got this.” I remember a strange, momentary rush of unfamiliar peace.
An officer on a bullhorn began to bark instructions. “Driver, get out of the car.” I opened the door and got out of the car. “Put your hands in the air.” I put my hands high in the air. “Driver, get down. Get down. Get down.” I surrendered to my knees, then lay face down on the ground. Law enforcement officers surrounded me, cuffed me, and took me into custody.
I fought everyone in my path, including the police and other inmates. I refused to talk to anyone. Because of my violent behavior, they locked me away in solitary confinement while I waited for my sentence hearing. I was so angry, I went on a hunger strike.
All alone in my cell, tears streamed down my face as I realized the impact of this moment—I had become my father. My son was the same age I had been when my father disappeared from my life, and now I would be completely absent from his. It tore me up. How could I have been so stupid? Then I thought of my mother who had always been there for me. She wasn’t young anymore. Would she pass away while I was behind bars? Scenario after scenario played through my mind, and each caused my anger to escalate. Not to mention I was detoxing from heroin. I was a mess.
A couple of weeks into my hunger strike, a chaplain came by my solitary confinement unit. He opened my food flap and said, “Hey, brother. I just want to tell you that Jesus loves you, and He wants to be the Lord and Savior of your life.” I broke my no-talking rule long enough to scream obscenities at him and tell him to leave me alone. He left, but not before he dropped a Bible through my flap. It landed on the floor. That Bible was still sitting there a week later when the chaplain returned. Once again, he opened that flap and told me that Jesus loved me and wanted to be my Lord and Savior. I yelled more obscenities at him; this time he dropped a daily devotional through my flap.
That Bible and devotional stayed on the floor for three weeks until one day, out of pure boredom, I picked up the devotional. I turned to the date I thought it was and began to read. It listed a scripture reference. I reached over for the Bible that still lay on the floor, and I looked up the scripture. As I read, I had flashbacks of my time in Mississippi with Madea.
I saw myself standing by that dusty old piano, and hymns suddenly flooded my mind. At the Cross. Amazing Grace. Then came stories. Blind Bartimaeus. The woman at the well. The thief on the cross. It all started coming to life within me. It had been 40 years since Madea had sown those godly seeds, but finally they were bringing forth a harvest. Suddenly, I wasn’t angry anymore, and I began to speak to the guards and eat. I was different. They thought I had lost my mind.
In the weeks that followed, I couldn’t put the Word of God down. One night, there was a commotion that woke me. An inmate was being transferred to another facility. I heard him ask the guard if he could give me his small radio. A few moments later, my flap opened, and the guard dropped a small transistor radio into my cell. It was old and pitiful, but it was a gift from above. I found one station on that mangled radio, 90.5 KSOS. I recognized the voice of the DJ as the man who used to do the news on channel 3 in Las Vegas. He started to preach, and he told me about a God who loved me and wanted to forgive all my sin. Something cracked on the inside of me.
I listened to that little radio day and night. I’d sit there with one earbud in my ear, listening to Christian music. One night I fell asleep and woke up to the voice of Billy Graham. It was the message of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11–32). At the end of the story, Billy Graham said, “God is knocking at the door of your heart. He wants you to invite Him in. Will you do that?” Something leaped within my spirit. I stood up in that cell, raised my hands to the heavens, and invited Jesus Christ to be Lord of my life. And my life has never been the same since.
You know, inmates are put in solitary confinement in order to isolate them from everyone else; but I wasn’t isolated. God was right there in that cell with me. There were times when His presence was so real, it was like we were sitting face to face in the room, talking together. His presence enabled me to face the uncertainty of my future.
A month later, US marshals took me to the federal courthouse for sentencing. I was facing 23 years in prison, and I was scared to death. I closed my eyes and prayed, “God, I’m asking You to go before me in this courtroom, to climb into the robe of that judge and move him out of the way. Lord, whatever time I have coming to me—10, 20, 50 years, whatever—let it come from You. You be my judge. And Lord, whatever time I get, I‘m going to spend the rest of my life serving You.”
I finished praying as the door to my holding cell opened. Feet shackled, I shuffled down the hall and into the courtroom. There, in front of that judge, peace overcame me. It was like I was standing in the presence of God. Prior to sentencing, the judge asked me if I had anything to say. I opened my mouth, and the Spirit of God poured His words out of me.
The judge sat in silence, took off his glasses, and paused. “Mr. Ponder, I don’t know why I am doing this, but I am not going to give you what you deserve.” Instead of 23 years he gave me just over six. What a beautiful picture of our heavenly Father who doesn’t give us what we deserve either. Years later, Judge Mahan told me that he had paused because he was asking the Lord what sentence He should give me. He was a direct answer to my prayer.
My heavenly Father showed up that day. Back in the cell, I fell face down on the floor and wept. God bent down and whispered, “Son, I honored what you asked Me to do. Never forget the promise you made Me.” And in that moment, I renewed my determination to serve God every day of my life.
Matthew 4 tells the story of Jesus being led into the wilderness by the Spirit of God to be tempted by the devil. Jesus had just been baptized and was committed to the call God had placed on His life. After my commitment to Christ, I was led into a similar wilderness experience at Allenwood Federal Penitentiary in Pennsylvania.
Behind those 50-foot concrete walls, I met evil every day, and I was tempted in every way. Because of the role I had played in the free world, it was natural I would assume a leadership position in a certain gang. I was called to the round table to meet with gang leaders. I knew the rules of the game; if I turned down this position, I’d be killed. I avoided the round table for three weeks.
“God,” I pleaded. “I need Your help. I’m trying to honor You by not going back to that life. Please, protect me.”
I got called back to the table, and there was no avoiding it this time. With boldness that could only have come from God, I went. I sat down at the table, looked those men in the eyes, and told them I would not be a part of their gang. I also told them not to call me back to the table unless they wanted to talk with me about the Bible. I shared my commitment to God and told them I was done with gang life. Then I told them that if they were going to take me out, to go ahead and do it.
Nobody moved. Everyone was waiting for the cue—a slight wave of the hand, a nod, something to signal my demise. Yet the cue never came. I stood up, turned around, and walked away from the table. My eyes caught sight of the sun rising over the mountains of Pennsylvania. Psalm 121:1–2 immediately came to mind, “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth” (KJV).
For days, I could sense the threat of death in the air. I knew I wasn’t out of the woods. If you’ve been in prison, you know that death comes without warning. It lurks around every corner, and you don’t know who will be its pawn. But death never came. Instead, over time the men started coming to me, asking for prayer. I’d stand on the prison yard, holding hands with the guys who should have taken me out, praying for the Lord to intervene on their behalf. It was amazing. Even the underboss of a well-known crime familybegan to call upon me for prayer. God did many miracles in these men’s lives.
After three and a half years, I was transferred to a minimal security federal prison in Oregon. This was a far cry from the penitentiary where I’d seen people massacred right before my eyes. God had used that wilderness experience to teach me to trust Him. He was truly all I had, and I learned through my time there that He was all I needed. He’s all I’ll ever need.
The day before I was released, some Christian brothers had a party for me, complete with a meal. They asked me, “Jon, what’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get home?” I hadn’t thought about that. I’d been so wrapped up in what God was doing in each moment in my life there in prison that I hadn’t really thought about what I’d do when I got out. I was so content there, teaching and mentoring men in the Word of God. I didn’t need prison gates to open for me to be free; God had set me free years before.
That night I knelt by my bunk and asked, “God what would You have me to do?” And God proceeded to show me my mission. “Jon, you’re not going home, you’re being sent home. There’s a big difference. You are being sent back to a community where people are enslaved to what used to enslave you. I’ve chosen you to go to them and untie them and bring them to Me.” He showed me if I obeyed, I would bring life transformation not just to a person, but to their families for generations to come.
The Lord then reminded me of that night when I was first arrested by the Feds. He said, “Jon, when you heard a voice saying to get out of the driver’s seat, you thought it was the police, but it wasn’t. It was Me. You also heard a voice telling you to put your hands in the air; that was Me. And you heard, ‘Get down. Get down. Get down.’ Me again. I was showing you how to live the rest of your life: hands off the controls, totally surrendered, prostrate before Me. Now, go home and fulfill your mission. The city of Las Vegas is no longer your playground. It is your mission field.”
I went from prison to a halfway house here in Las Vegas. The first thing I did was to get a job. I had restitution to make for the crimes I’d committed. I worked each day with integrity, and on my fifteen-minute breaks, I planned for the ministry God had called me to. It would be called HOPE for Prisoners.
Not long after I was released, Richard Beasley sought me out and came to visit. As we sat down to breakfast, he told me that he had been praying for me the whole time I’d been incarcerated. We connected through our mutual faith and love for Christ and, for perhaps the first time, I was able to view someone in law enforcement from a new perspective. He was now my friend, and the relationship we developed that day has continued since. He has offered me wisdom and guidance as I have worked to build HOPE for Prisoners and serves as a valued member of our Advisory Council. I value and admire this man, and thank God for the part he has played in my life and my ministry.
Since 2009, HOPE for Prisoners has facilitated reentry and reintegration services to over 2,000 men, women, and young adults who are exiting various segments of the judicial system. Our ministry comes alongside former offenders and their families in an effort to transform lives and systematically educate society in ways to engage and support them. What makes our ministry so successful is that we involve local churches, legislators, judges, police officers, and businessmen who want to help people overcome the many barriers to successful living that incarceration can create.They are our clients’ mentors, just like Richard Beasley was mine.
Because of the transformation in my life and the success of the ministry God has entrusted to me, White House staff members are studying HOPE for Prisoners as a model for future rehabilitation and transitional programs across the nation. As I stood in the Rose Garden, I was embarking on the next leg of my journey that includes being a part of prison reform in America. Only God could do such a thing.
If there is one thing I hope you take away from my story it is this: there are no limits to what God can do with a life totally surrendered to Him, only opportunities.I am so privileged to be living proof of Colossians 1:13: “He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves” (NIV).
I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what roads you’ve traveled or what road you’re currently on, but I do know this: God is ready to use your life to bring hope and change to this world. Whether you are a grandparent like Madea, a federal agent like Richard Beasley, a judge, an officer, a schoolteacher, a parent, a businessman, or even a convicted felon like myself, God is ready and able to use you in ways you would never imagine. All it takes is you saying yes to God.
Today, I want to tell you what Billy Graham told me years ago. God stands at the door of your heart, and He’s knocking. He’s ready to take you on an adventure of a lifetime. Will you open the door? Will you invite Him into your life? Will you say yes?
Who knows, God might even lead you from the heart of a prison to the White House. Nothing is impossible with Him.
You know, inmates are put in solitary confinement in order to isolate them from everyone else; but I wasn’t isolated. God was right there in that cell with me. There were times when His presence was so real, it was like we were sitting face to face in the room, talking together. His presence enabled me to face the uncertainty of my future.
A month later, US marshals took me to the federal courthouse for sentencing. I was facing 23 years in prison, and I was scared to death. I closed my eyes and prayed, “God, I’m asking You to go before me in this courtroom, to climb into the robe of that judge and move him out of the way. Lord, whatever time I have coming to me—10, 20, 50 years, whatever—let it come from You. You be my judge. And Lord, whatever time I get, I‘m going to spend the rest of my life serving You.”
I finished praying as the door to my holding cell opened. Feet shackled, I shuffled down the hall and into the courtroom. There, in front of that judge, peace overcame me. It was like I was standing in the presence of God. Prior to sentencing, the judge asked me if I had anything to say. I opened my mouth, and the Spirit of God poured His words out of me.
The judge sat in silence, took off his glasses, and paused. “Mr. Ponder, I don’t know why I am doing this, but I am not going to give you what you deserve.” Instead of 23 years he gave me just over six. What a beautiful picture of our heavenly Father who doesn’t give us what we deserve either. Years later, Judge Mahan told me that he had paused because he was asking the Lord what sentence He should give me. He was a direct answer to my prayer.
My heavenly Father showed up that day. Back in the cell, I fell face down on the floor and wept. God bent down and whispered, “Son, I honored what you asked Me to do. Never forget the promise you made Me.” And in that moment, I renewed my determination to serve God every day of my life.
Matthew 4 tells the story of Jesus being led into the wilderness by the Spirit of God to be tempted by the devil. Jesus had just been baptized and was committed to the call God had placed on His life. After my commitment to Christ, I was led into a similar wilderness experience at Allenwood Federal Penitentiary in Pennsylvania.
Behind those 50-foot concrete walls, I met evil every day, and I was tempted in every way. Because of the role I had played in the free world, it was natural I would assume a leadership position in a certain gang. I was called to the round table to meet with gang leaders. I knew the rules of the game; if I turned down this position, I’d be killed. I avoided the round table for three weeks.
“God,” I pleaded. “I need Your help. I’m trying to honor You by not going back to that life. Please, protect me.”
I got called back to the table, and there was no avoiding it this time. With boldness that could only have come from God, I went. I sat down at the table, looked those men in the eyes, and told them I would not be a part of their gang. I also told them not to call me back to the table unless they wanted to talk with me about the Bible. I shared my commitment to God and told them I was done with gang life. Then I told them that if they were going to take me out, to go ahead and do it.
Nobody moved. Everyone was waiting for the cue—a slight wave of the hand, a nod, something to signal my demise. Yet the cue never came. I stood up, turned around, and walked away from the table. My eyes caught sight of the sun rising over the mountains of Pennsylvania. Psalm 121:1–2 immediately came to mind, “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth” (KJV).
For days, I could sense the threat of death in the air. I knew I wasn’t out of the woods. If you’ve been in prison, you know that death comes without warning. It lurks around every corner, and you don’t know who will be its pawn. But death never came. Instead, over time the men started coming to me, asking for prayer. I’d stand on the prison yard, holding hands with the guys who should have taken me out, praying for the Lord to intervene on their behalf. It was amazing. Even the underboss of a well-known crime familybegan to call upon me for prayer. God did many miracles in these men’s lives.
After three and a half years, I was transferred to a minimal security federal prison in Oregon. This was a far cry from the penitentiary where I’d seen people massacred right before my eyes. God had used that wilderness experience to teach me to trust Him. He was truly all I had, and I learned through my time there that He was all I needed. He’s all I’ll ever need.
The day before I was released, some Christian brothers had a party for me, complete with a meal. They asked me, “Jon, what’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get home?” I hadn’t thought about that. I’d been so wrapped up in what God was doing in each moment in my life there in prison that I hadn’t really thought about what I’d do when I got out. I was so content there, teaching and mentoring men in the Word of God. I didn’t need prison gates to open for me to be free; God had set me free years before.
That night I knelt by my bunk and asked, “God what would Youhave me to do?” And God proceeded to show me my mission. “Jon, you’re not goinghome, you’re being sent home. There’s a big difference. You are being sentback to a community where people are enslaved to what used to enslave you. I’ve chosen you to go to them and untie them and bring them to Me.” He showed me if I obeyed, I would bring life transformation not just to a person, but to their families for generations to come.
The Lord then reminded me of that night when I was first arrested by the Feds. He said, “Jon, when you heard a voice saying to get out of the driver’s seat, you thought it was the police, but it wasn’t. It was Me. You also heard a voice telling you to put your hands in the air; that was Me. And you heard, ‘Get down. Get down. Get down.’ Me again. I was showing you how to live the rest of your life: hands off the controls, totally surrendered, prostrate before Me. Now, go home and fulfill your mission. The city of Las Vegas is no longer your playground. It is your mission field.”
I went from prison to a halfway house here in Las Vegas. The first thing I did was to get a job. I had restitution to make for the crimes I’d committed. I worked each day with integrity, and on my fifteen-minute breaks, I planned for the ministry God had called me to. It would be called HOPE for Prisoners.
Not long after I was released, Richard Beasley sought me out and came to visit. As we sat down to breakfast, he told me that he had been praying for me the whole time I’d been incarcerated. We connected through our mutual faith and love for Christ and, for perhaps the first time, I was able to view someone in law enforcement from a new perspective. He was now my friend, and the relationship we developed that day has continued since. He has offered me wisdom and guidance as I have worked to build HOPE for Prisoners and serves as a valued member of our Advisory Council. I value and admire this man, and thank God for the part he has played in my life and my ministry.
Since 2009, HOPE for Prisoners has facilitated reentry and reintegration services to over 2,000men, women, and young adults who are exiting various segments of the judicial system. Our ministry comes alongside former offenders and their families in an effort to transform lives and systematically educate society in ways to engage and support them. What makes our ministry so successful is that we involve local churches, legislators, judges, police officers, and businessmen who want to help people overcome the many barriers to successful living that incarceration can create.They are our clients’ mentors, just like Richard Beasley was mine.
Because of the transformation in my life and the success of the ministry God has entrusted to me, White House staff members are studying HOPE for Prisoners as a model for future rehabilitation and transitional programs across the nation. As I stood in the Rose Garden, I was embarking on the next leg of my journey that includes being a part of prison reform in America. Only God could do such a thing.
If there is one thing I hope you take away from my story it is this: there are no limits to what God can do with a life totally surrendered to Him, only opportunities.I am so privileged to be living proof of Colossians 1:13: “He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves” (NIV).
I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what roads you’ve traveled or what road you’re currently on, but I do know this: God is ready to use your life to bring hope and change to this world. Whether you are a grandparent like Madea, a federal agent like Richard Beasley, a judge, an officer, a schoolteacher, a parent, a businessman, or even a convicted felon like myself, God is ready and able to use you in ways you would never imagine. All it takes is your saying yesto God.
Today, I want to tell you what Billy Graham told me years ago. God stands at the door of your heart, and He’s knocking. He’s ready to take you on an adventure of a lifetime. Will you open the door? Will you invite Him into your life? Will you say yes?
Who knows, God might even lead you from the heart of a prison to the White House. Nothing is impossible with Him.
