The week before last I visited a men's prison in Argentina. I have been in and out of quite a few prisons now and I always enjoy it, but this was the first time I truly had no desire to leave at the end of the day.

Believe it or not, the prison resembled a monastery, or a church buzzing with God's presence. Physically, the premises were filled with light, the bedrooms in better condition than where I lived for the past year with YWAM (!) and some of the walls displayed artwork of the inmates illustrating the gospel.

Apart from the excellent and healthy condition of the building, I noticed straight away that there was a difference in the way the men looked at us as females, which stood in stark contrast not only to the atmosphere in any other male prison, but also to how I feel as a woman walking down the street for 5 metres in Argentina. There was an incredible spirit of purity and respect; the men were gentlemen; they treated us, and looked at us, as sisters.

We attended their daily service in the chapel. I am not kidding when I say that the presence of God was so strong that I had the urge to burst into tears (of happiness) as soon as I walked into the room. The ground shook as a room filled with tough men sang and shouted their hearts out, jumping and dancing and praising with reckless abandonment and sheer joy. That is it, it was sheer enjoyment of God. Some jumped in the air, others danced, others knelt on the floor, facedown, lost in awe and wonder. No one cared what any one else thought of them - they were too wrapped up in praising God. The spirit of freedom in that room is something I have only glimpsed before: these guys worshipped with an unrivalled level of freedom, with a recklessness and an awe worthy only of a Holy and Awesome God who had radically changed their lives by his love.

A prison where  all the 200-something inmates have converted to Christ - it has to be seen to be believed; it has to be experienced to really understand that true freedom has nothing to do with external imprisonment.