At the end of May, silence fell on the Protestant Christian service held in the gymnasium at Thumb Correctional Facility, in eastern Michigan, as the homemade baptismal pool was wheeled in.

Set up beneath a basketball hoop, the white fiberglass bathtub was mounted on a wooden carrier built in the prison’s carpentry class. It was just big enough for the linebacker-sized man at the end of the line to become fully submerged. 

The newly baptized reported that the water was awfully cold that day.

Pastor Anthony Ramsey spoke from the free-throw line to the congregation of over 100 men sitting in “pews” of burgundy plastic chairs spread across midcourt. 

“It doesn’t matter what you’ve done in your past, but it matters now that you take responsibility for your future,” he said. “By dying to the old, being submerged, and being born again, you are new men and citizens of heaven.”

Ramsey performs baptisms for the prison’s Protestant services, which he has led as a volunteer for the past decade. He baptized me three years ago, an event I consider to be a turning point in my life.

The first man to step in was Jamie McArdle, an active member of the prison church. He was stripped down to a shirt and prison-issue orange shorts — a change from the typical church attire of blue prison uniforms.

McArdle affirmed his faith and held his nose, then the pastor submerged him, baptizing him “in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.”

“I’ve never felt better,” McArdle said after it was over. “It’s such a blessing to even be able to be baptized, especially here.”

Three incarcerated leaders in the prison church stood by with mops, making sure nobody slipped on the way to or from baptism. Those who signed up to be baptized had been encouraged to bring a towel and a change of clothes.

Joseph McGuire was next in line. He put his hands up in victory as he surfaced from the water. Afterward he said that the experience was “exhilarating.”

“To be honest, there’s nowhere else I’d rather do this,” he said. “My old self would have never believed. … I mean, my first tattoo said ‘Highway to Hell’ and it represented who I was. I found God in prison, and I’ve already seen the result of him working in my life. Had I not been through all of the negativity in my life, I wouldn’t have appreciated what this truly means.”

All told, 15 men from all walks of life were baptized on May 25, 2025. Among them were a teen with cancer from the prison’s youthful offender unit, a man in his 50s who has spent the majority of his life in prison, and a middle-aged former gang member from Detroit.

At the end of the line was an 80-year-old former doctor originally from India. The men who had already been baptized, toweling off, cheered along with the rest of the congregation as Jasubai Desai emerged from the water.

After performing this last baptism of the day, the pastor prayed for all of us before leaving the prison for his church in nearby Flint. He was soaked. But after baptizing hundreds of prisoners over the years, he was also prepared. As he was leaving, he told us he had a towel and a change of clothes in the car.