We have the best jobs in the world.

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We walk shoulder to shoulder with men and women who are incarcerated and returning to society because we've been given our marching papers by an authority greater than ourselves.

When you are given more, more is expected of you. (See Luke 12:48.)

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Our lives are richly blessed; our opportunities abundant; our talents provided by a big God.

Let's just say this: After a lifetime of suburbia and the race to acquire as much unnecessary stuff as our neighbors, we finally got a clue.  For sale:  pretty much everything. (See Matthew 16:26.)

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In addition to blessings, our lives are also filled with chaos, mistakes, uncertainty and myriad examples of how we have fallen short and needed grace and mercy to climb out of both self-induced and world-induced pits.  We know what it's like to get it wrong and rely on something bigger than ourselves to get back to zero.  (See 1 Corinthians 4:4.) We are equally grateful for the circumstances of great darkness as we are for the circumstances of great blessings.

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We do what we do at Damascus because we have been privileged with the task of doing so.  And, because when thousands of men and women with felony records choose a new path each year our society has yet to welcome them with any grand effort. (See Parable of the Fig Tree.)

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At Damascus, we will continue to chip away at the iceberg of reentry and restoration -- and welcome partners along the way. Spoiler alert: we aren't trying to blend in, so we're pretty picky about our professionalism, our priorities, our processes and our partners. 

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Our willingness to walk with the incarcerated and those with criminal records originates from an authority bigger than us.  Our ability to do so--while from the same authority--comes from a melange of educational and corporate experiences that create the lattice of qualifications Damascus brings to reentry.