From a prison cell to declaring HOPE, Patrick Matthews has a powerful testimony. God met him in prison through the Heralds of Hope Voice of Hope broadcast and now his life is dedicated to sharing that same hope with others. Written by Patrick, we hope you can be inspired by his testimony, and by how the Holy Spirit can soften hard hearts.
The cell block had a rhythm, and it was a rhythm Patrick hated. It was the heavy slide of steel, the muffled shouts from three tiers up, and—worst of all—the tinny, persistent drone of the radio three doors down.
Every evening, like clockwork, the sound would drift through the bars. It was Heralds of Hope. The preacher’s voice was calm, steady, and relentless. To Patrick, sitting in the shadows of his own thoughts, it felt like a cheese grater against his nerves.
“Turn that garbage off!” he’d growl to the empty air, his hands balling into fists. He spent hours imagining the satisfying crunch of plastic and wire if he could just get his hands on that radio. He wanted silence. He wanted to stay wrapped in the hard, cold shell he’d built around himself.
But the Gospel has a way of leaking through the cracks.
Night after night, the words seeped in. Patrick would try to drown it out with his own thoughts, but the message was persistent. It felt like a finger tapping on his shoulder that wouldn’t go away. He recognized it for what it was: God was speaking. And Patrick was doing everything in his power to keep his fingers in his ears.
Then came a Tuesday. The air in the block felt heavy, but as the broadcast began, something shifted. The annoyance didn’t flare up like usual. Instead, a word caught him—a phrase about grace for the “least of these.”
Patrick didn’t break the radio that night. He didn’t even yell. He just sat on the edge of his cot and listened.
The anger that had felt like a solid wall in his chest began to feel more like ice in the spring sun. It didn’t vanish all at once, but it began to drip. It began to soften. The Gospel wasn’t an intrusion anymore; it was a lifeline thrown into deep water. By the time the “Amen” echoed through the speakers down the way, Patrick realized the man with the radio wasn’t his enemy. He was a messenger.
Patrick looked at his hands—the same hands that had wanted to smash a radio—and realized they were being called to something else. The road to ministering to lost souls is a long one, often paved with the stubbornness of men like him. But as his heart opened, he found a new kind of rhythm: one of hope, gratitude, and the quiet realization that no soul is ever truly out of earshot.
HOPE Rep
