Former Minnesota Governor Al Quie remembers hoboes—as they were called—showing up at his family’s dairy farm during the Great Depression. “Evidently our farm was known as a place where they could get a meal,” says Quie. His parents always served their unexpected guests in the formal dining room—a place usually reserved for holidays or for a visiting Lutheran minister. The lesson Al learned was simple, yet profound: Respect the dignity of every person.
Indeed, upholding human dignity has been a hallmark of Al Quie’s decades of public service and ministry—and the reason why last week he was honored with our 2008 William Wilberforce Award. We give the award every year “in recognition of exemplary witness for Jesus Christ, perseverance, and selflessness in combating social injustice and advancing Christian values in the face of opposition.”
A former state senator, congressman, and governor of Minnesota, Al cites two accomplishments that give him a great sense of gratification: the first, landmark legislation mandating public education for handicapped children. The second, fair-employment legislation that abolished job discrimination against African-Americans.
At the time, both segments of society were treated as second-class citizens. But Al had learned from a father who treated hoboes as honored guests. So when Al pushed for the legislation, he gave his fellow legislators only one reason: “It’s the right thing to do.”
Al Quie is also a man who, at the height of the Watergate scandal, reached out to a disgraced advisor to President Nixon: one Chuck Colson. Seven months into my prison term, I was facing a pair of family crises. Al called and said he was going to go see the president to ask Gerald Ford if he, Al, could serve the rest of my prison sentence. I was overwhelmed. His willingness to lay down his life for me was a turning point: I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jesus Christ was real.
After retiring from political office in 1983, Al did not go into business or lobbying, as many politicians do. He began serving on the Prison Fellowship Board of Directors, where he fulfilled his passion for reaching out to society’s outcasts: prisoners. He then joined the Prison Fellowship staff, not as a national leader, but as a state director out in the frontlines of the ministry. Later he became president, and he has been my closest friend and colleague over the years.
Today, at age 84, Al still spends hours ministering in prisons—especially at the aptly named Albert H. Quie Unit in Lino Lakes, Minnesota. There, in 2002, he helped Prison Fellowship launch the InnerChange Freedom Initiative® for prisoners willing to invest hard work in turning their lives around through biblically based character development. Quie is a mentor, teacher, and even surrogate father and grandfather to many of the men—modeling his faith in Christ.
“The guys know that he lives out what he talks about,” says John Byrne, director of the Minnesota unit. “It really gives them a boost to know that someone of his background and experience wants to spend time with them and cares about their growth.”
For Al Quie, it is simply the right thing to do—to treat everyone with dignity. As his parents did. As William Wilberforce did. And as Jesus does.
Former Minnesota Governor Al Quie remembers hoboes—as they were called—showing up at his family’s dairy farm during the Great Depression. “Evidently our farm was known as a place where they could get a meal,” says Quie. His parents always served their unexpected guests in the formal dining room—a place usually reserved for holidays or for a visiting Lutheran minister. The lesson Al learned was simple, yet profound: Respect the dignity of every person.
Indeed, upholding human dignity has been a hallmark of Al Quie’s decades of public service and ministry—and the reason why last week he was honored with our 2008 William Wilberforce Award. We give the award every year “in recognition of exemplary witness for Jesus Christ, perseverance, and selflessness in combating social injustice and advancing Christian values in the face of opposition.”
A former state senator, congressman, and governor of Minnesota, Al cites two accomplishments that give him a great sense of gratification: the first, landmark legislation mandating public education for handicapped children. The second, fair-employment legislation that abolished job discrimination against African-Americans.
At the time, both segments of society were treated as second-class citizens. But Al had learned from a father who treated hoboes as honored guests. So when Al pushed for the legislation, he gave his fellow legislators only one reason: “It’s the right thing to do.”
Al Quie is also a man who, at the height of the Watergate scandal, reached out to a disgraced advisor to President Nixon: one Chuck Colson. Seven months into my prison term, I was facing a pair of family crises. Al called and said he was going to go see the president to ask Gerald Ford if he, Al, could serve the rest of my prison sentence. I was overwhelmed. His willingness to lay down his life for me was a turning point: I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jesus Christ was real.
After retiring from political office in 1983, Al did not go into business or lobbying, as many politicians do. He began serving on the Prison Fellowship Board of Directors, where he fulfilled his passion for reaching out to society’s outcasts: prisoners. He then joined the Prison Fellowship staff, not as a national leader, but as a state director out in the frontlines of the ministry. Later he became president, and he has been my closest friend and colleague over the years.
Today, at age 84, Al still spends hours ministering in prisons—especially at the aptly named Albert H. Quie Unit in Lino Lakes, Minnesota. There, in 2002, he helped Prison Fellowship launch the InnerChange Freedom Initiative® for prisoners willing to invest hard work in turning their lives around through biblically based character development. Quie is a mentor, teacher, and even surrogate father and grandfather to many of the men—modeling his faith in Christ.
“The guys know that he lives out what he talks about,” says John Byrne, director of the Minnesota unit. “It really gives them a boost to know that someone of his background and experience wants to spend time with them and cares about their growth.”
For Al Quie, it is simply the right thing to do—to treat everyone with dignity. As his parents did. As William Wilberforce did. And as Jesus does.
