Chaplain Wayne Bauman of Westmisnter had plenty of questions before he took over the chaplain post at the Carroll County Detention Center.

"How would I fit in this sort of situation? I've never really been behind bars," he thought.

"Do I really have what it takes as far as the emotional energy -- the wisdom to give good counseling?"

Bauman believes that so far, at least, the answers have come from above.

In October of last year, Bauman took over for now-retired Chaplain Ray Newman. As detention center chaplain, he visits prisoners and tries to attend to their faiths needs.

"It's nothing I ever imagined that I would be doing," Bauman said. "It kind of fell in my lap, and I felt like I needed to pursue it until God closed the door."

"I'm surprised at how much I'm enjoying it," he said.

"I wasn't sure he could do it, either, when I first met him," said Newman, now pastor of Clearfield Bible Church in Westminster.

But Newman adds, "From a Christian point of view, if God calls you to work, God will enable you."

And that's exactly how it has panned out, Bauman said.

Prior to accepting the post, Bauman had spent about 10 years as a missionary with his wife, Belinda, and children in Papua New Guinea.

The Annapolis native and his family moved back to the United States in 2005 so he could work on his master's of divinity degree. Then Grace Fellowship Chapel, in Westminster, called, asking him to join its work there, helping mission outreach programs.

Then Belinda was diagnosed in March 2009 with multiple sclerosis, and since then, the family has decided to stay put on American soil.

Grace Fellowship is among many churches that support the Good News Jail & Prison Ministry, which operates the chaplain program at the detention center.

Through the church connection, Bauman met Newman, and that led to Bauman receiving an internship with Good News.

Bauman wrestled with his feeling about the mission -- and with his own preconceived notion of inmates: They're in prison, so they get what they deserve.

But during Bauman's internship, Newman witnessed something different.

"What I saw in Wayne was a compassion for the need of individuals," Newman said, noting what he calls Bauman's non-judgmental approach.

In Bauman's words, he tries to be "as irreligious as I can.

"If that makes sense."

View from the inside

Bauman said that as he has heard inmates' stories, prejudice is long gone, and he has seen, first-hand, a documented problem in Carroll County.

"After I've been here and I've met with them, by and large, these are people who have made really poor choices, usually when it comes to some sort of drug or alcohol," he said. "They end up addicted, and that's what they're struggling with.

"If they could kick the addiction," he said, "they could stay out."

Once or twice a week, Bauman walks through each living area in the pod-designed detention center to chat with inmates -- and officers -- and serve as a counselor to those who wish it.

Each Sunday is the men's worship service, as well as Monday and Wednesday night Bible studies. Volunteers also help bridge the gap for Catholic services, too, he said.

And when he has time on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Bauman goes into the community to meet with churches and businesses to raise funds to keep the ministry operating.

Bauman's duty, he said, is to "meet the spiritual needs of the inmates, regardless of their faith background."

"Even though I am a Christian, if there were a Muslim, a Jew, or even a Satanist that had specific requests of their religion, as long as it does not violate the code of safety, then I'm responsible to make sure their needs are met," he said.

Often, that means finding someone who can volunteer to lead a specific faith service, or finding appropriate readings for the inmate's needs.

If inmates need any material item -- whether it's a Bible or a cross or something from their personal belongings -- they have to submit a written request.

Practicing religion behind bars has to be measured against safety. It's up to officers to approve or deny the items, Bauman said.

"I have Bibles that are cleared, so I can get him a Bible," he said.

"Getting (a) cross out? -- the reason (the inmate) is asking me is because it's something of a religious nature," he said. "It's my call as to whether it's necessary to practice his religious faith. It's the officer's call as to if it's safe or not."

But the greatest needs are, perhaps, ones that don't involve any object of this world, but intervention from another.

So far, Bauman has noticed two common prayer requests.

"One is 'My court date is coming up,' " he said. "It's almost like rubbing their lucky rabbit's foot -- 'Come pray with me before my court date' kind of thing."

"But then there's others who are serious about their spiritual life. They want an interaction almost on a regular basis, just so I can keep track of them."

Bauman is a realist, but he's optimistic about the men and women he serves.

"My goal is for them to never come back," he said.

"I'm happy to see you again," he tells them, "just not in here."

Looking beyond the bars

The former chaplain, Newman, places the job in perspective.

"The most challenging thing is to get the young men and women in the jail to realize there is still hope for them, and there is still the possibility they can change and make something out of their lives," he said.

"Most of them have been told they're just a bag of dirt," Newman adds. "And they believe it."

According to Good News, the national recidivism rate for inmates is only 14 percent when an inmate experiences the combination of coming to faith, renewing his or her faith, having a chaplain to work with and getting into a religious support group once released.

If there's not a faith element involved, figures suggest recidivism goes much higher -- more than half of the general population of prisoners in the United States are arrested within three years of their release, according to the U.S. Bureau of Justice Statistics.

For those trying to improve, Bauman tries to create a worship and support community.

"I try to help them see that the strength to kick their addiction is not only going to come from within," he said. "It's going to come from Jesus."

For inmates preparing to be released, Bauman sometimes must challenge them to see if they are really ready to prevail.

"I've seen from their past record that they've been in every couple of years," he said. "I try to ask them, 'What's going to be different this time? How are you going to make a difference so you're going to stay outside?' "

Bauman said his time in Papua New Guinea has bode him well.

"In New Guinea, as well as in the jail, the idea is (that) if you do for one, you do for everybody," he said. "It was very true in our tribe, and it's very true here."

For instance, he said, in New Guinea, someone would say her children cannot eat the food they were provided, they have to eat fish and rice. An hour later, someone with the same story knocks at his door.

"The next day I was at Bible school, and I took 12 bags of rice and 12 tins of fish and said, 'Everybody's got one, stop asking,' " he said.

At the detention center, he said, requests come from a tribe of 250 inmates.

Sometimes, Bauman has to say no, which saddens him. But he places his position in perspective, acknowledging the officers who keep the peace in the center.

"In reality, I wouldn't be here if they weren't here," he said.

The detention center warden, Col. George Hardinger, places a "high value" on what the chaplaincy does for both inmates and employees, and he said Bauman has a comforting personality.

"In terms of this job and some of the things that are required of you, it's helpful having someone to talk to who knows something about the business," he said. "The chaplain who's here has a real insight into the environment and real intimate knowledge of the facility."

Bauman said that someday, he hopes to start up a faith-based halfway house for inmates so they can have support as they transition to freedom.

For now, rapport comes with restraint in the confines of a jail, Bauman said.

"It's almost like we're developing friendships, but we have to limit it just because of the situation," he said, smiling.

"If they weren't in jail, and I weren't the chaplain ... I could see where we could develop a friendship over time."

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