Junior

It's been hard to know what to make of Junior. A short, slight, Englishman, with several front teeth missing and a perpetual swagger in his walk, he started coming into The Lord's Rain about a year ago. The most common themes in his conversation have been (a) that he was subject to arrest and deportation, even though he'd lived in Canada since the 60s, and (b) that he used to run with the Hell's Angels in Quebec and the Maritimes.


His big talk has always made me wonder. How much of it is real, how much is bravado and how much is just plain delusional? The wondering reached a peak a couple of months ago, when I casually asked him how he got his nickname "Junior". He went into a long story about being born in India when his father was in his 60s and had married (I think) a young Indian woman, but then was raised by older sisters back in England ... kicked out of various schools and then sent off to Canada, (and possibly not as a remittance man) ... and that's when he fell in with the bikers. "Junior" was what his dad called him, to the point that no one in his family knew who they were talking about when they used his right name.


The more I listened, the more I realized that the story was wild, crazy, out of left field, totally unbelieveable ... and there just might be something to it!


I hadn't seen Junior in a while, until he came into The Lord's Rain this past Tuesday. He had a coffee and sat down. Then another fellow came in, who I'd never seen before: he asked if the coffee was free (yes), then sat down and talked to Junior.


"Charlie East."
"Huh?"
"Charlie East."
"Dunno what you're talkin' about," said Junior.
"That's where I know you from."
"I never seen you before."
"We were in the same cell block."
"I been inside since."


To translate: the new guy was trying to convince Junior that they knew each other from doing time together in chokey. Junior seemed nonplussed. Finally, the new guy said, ever so casually, "come on outside, I want to talk to you."


"I'm not going outside with you."


You don't need to be Mario Puzo to get an idea of what was coming. Junior refused to go outside, and the new fellow was quite insistent. I was distracted by something else, and then I realized Junior had, incredibly, stepped outside with the guy. Danilo went out after them about 30 seconds later, but it was about 10 seconds too late. Danilo hollered for me, and when I got there, Junior was sitting in the alley, his back against the wall, face bloody and looking dazed. The other guy was haring off down the street. It had been, apparently, a two punch discussion.


Junior said "yes" when I asked if he wanted me to call 911, which surprised me: often, victims in what was apparently a "targeted hit" (to use the term the media love to jump on) are in no mood to cooperate with police, but Junior probably figured that was a safer proposition than hanging about in the area.


But I can't say much for the street-wiseness of the attacker. Rather than take off in the general direction of away, he wound up in the alley across the street from The Lord's Rain, in full view of our picture window, presenting an excellent opportunity for me to describe him to the police. Unfortunately, police arrived about a minute after he disappeared down the alley and out the far side.


A couple of cops arrived and walked Junior out to the ambulance, which wasn't able to get right to the Mission on account of that work still going on on Carrall Street.

I found out on Wednesday night that the story had flashed around the DTES and had made its way up to the Food Bank, except that it had morphed into a fight inside The Lord's Rain. Alas, trying to shut down a rumour like that on the Alley Telegraph is like trying to put toothpaste back in the tube.

Once again, The Lord's Rain is in the right place at the right time. Supposing that goon had caught up with Junior and there wasn't a place open where there were witnesses and a phone to call 911? It's not the first time we've provided a place for someone to come in and get help at a time when most places are closed, and it won't be the last.

See? Here is water ...

I get to baptize someone today.

Bernice first came to Gospel Mission just after last Christmas with an amazing healing testimony. While in Winnipeg, she fell ill, and the doctors were somewhat at a loss as to what to do. Her mother and grandmother are Christian leaders on their reservation and started praying over her -- the power-packed healing prayers that Charismatics can get into -- and Bernice, miraculously, recovered.

Since then, she's come to the Mission often, if not exactly regularly. She's talked about her marriage and things that have happened between her and her husband -- which haven't been all pleasant, from the sounds of things, but she doesn't go into detail, and she seems to have struck a balance between forgiveness and wisdom.

A couple of weeks ago, she came up and said she wanted to be baptized, and she wanted me to do it. We're doing it today at the Mission, where there's a baptismal tank.

About an hour ago, it hit me, that this is quite an honour. The act of being baptized is many things:

-- a public declaration of faith and acceptance of new life in Christ

-- the actual physical "washing" of one's life and emerging clean and renewed

-- the act of emulating Jesus' death, descent to Hell and His resurrection

That last one, of course, wasn't the kind of baptism performed by John the Baptist, but the first two were -- even the "new life in Christ" part, although I doubt many of the people who came to John at the river understood it. But what else could account for the new life, as they repented of their sins and then had their lives washed clean by the dunking in the river?

Even Jesus -- the One who had no sins to wash away -- got baptized.

And to be the one presiding over that baptism is both an honour and a responsibility. I'm honoured that Bernice specifically asked me to do it; it's also a responsibility to help disciple her and be there if she has questions or worries or concerns or just something to share in the years to come. It's a responsibility to say the Right Words or pray the Right Things over her -- and for that, I'll have to put it all in the Holy Spirit's hands and let Him guide me.

I'm grateful for a sermon Cal Weber preached at Westpointe a few weeks ago, talking about the Ethiopian eunuch who was led to the Lord and baptized by Philip the Evangelist. Cal pointed out that being black, from a different country and culture, and missing the "male parts", the eunuch would likely have been barred from worshipping at the Temple in Jerusalem -- which is why the eunuch was on that road in the first place. Yet the message of the Gospel is that Jesus sacrificed Himself to remove any impediment anyone might have to a relationship with God. Those who may have been rejected by The World are more than welcome with Jesus.

Like it or not, being a native Indian woman living off the reservation and on Vancouver's Downtown East Side, one might say Bernice is in a position of being similarly rejected. By being baptized and declaring she's surrendering her life to Jesus, she's saying that what The World thinks doesn't matter anymore.

Even those who don't immediately pigeon-hole a native woman on the Downtown East Side in a certain way often look on her with pity, as a victim of something. Bernice is also saying that she's refusing to be a victim, but rather is an overcomer. Read what it says in the second and third chapters of the Book of Revelation about what God promises to overcomers. God loves victims and has compassion for them, but He sent His Son to give us the power to overcome the things that victimize us. Today, Bernice acknowledges to the world that she has received that new life, that "overcomer" status ... that power.

9/11 - Thanks for taking the bullet

A year ago on this date, I wrote the following on another blog. Time to revisit, with a few updates.

There are so many memories of Sept. 11, 2001, but the one that is firmly burned into my brain is from late September, 2007. I had always heard of and seen pictures of those giant hook-and-ladder fire trucks, with a steering wheel at the rear, but it wasn't until I went to New York for the first time (first time, that is, since 1960, so it might as well have been the first time) that I actually saw one. There was the long truck, and the firefighter sitting at the rear steering wheel, turning it in the opposite direction to the way the truck was turning. I was fascinated -- for a moment.

That fascination was suddenly overwhelmed by what else I saw on the fire truck: decalled onto the side were eight names, and above the names, the date Sept. 11, 2001. These were the names of the firefighters that company lost at the World Trade Center on that morning.

I found other poignant reminders of the attack during that trip. Interestingly, the least poignant (although still poignant) was Ground Zero itself -- still an excavation hole, and still controversial in its own right, as the daily papers reported continually on various scandals and allegations regarding management of the new structure to be built there. My friend Arlene had an interesting reaction when I caught my first glimpse of the Empire State Building, shortly after she'd picked me up from Pennsylvania Station. I said, "wow!", and she replied, "we had an even bigger 'wow' right down there" -- gesturing south, towards where the WTC used to be.

Pastor Reggie told me how they watched the second building go down from the roof of the Bowery Mission and then provided shelter services. In Canada, there is a fringe element (if you've ever read The Chrysalids, you'll catch the special nuance of the word "fringe") that wants to push the idea that "9/11 was an inside job"; that shadowy figures with connections all the way to the Oval Office planned and executed the attacks in order to provide an excuse for attacking Iraq and protect the interests of the international oil illuminati: a sort-of Watergate meets the burning of the Reichstag. I haven't heard all their evidence for this (although a lengthy investigation pretty much skewered one part of their argument two weeks ago, when it was found that WTC 3 -- a smaller building which collapsed a couple of days after 9/11 -- was not destroyed by cunningly planted bombs but by fire started by the initial attacks) but I remember reading one of Mike Moore's reasons for believing President George W Bush knew about the attacks all along. He apparently looked "dumbfounded" when an aide told him as he was speaking to a school class in Florida. Don't know about you, but I'm not sure how I'd react if someone had just told me that the two biggest office buildings in the world had just been reduced to a pile of smoking rubble; I would say, though, that "dumbfounded" might be one of the options.

Mind you, we Canadians tend to be a smug and self-righteous lot. I was like that, myself, for much of my life. I would look at the United States, and like the Pharisee standing next to the publican at prayer, say, "thank God that I'm not like them!" We were so quick to condemn Americans during the race riots of the 50s and 60s, yet we seemed to forget about Japanese internment and the Head Tax and native residential schools and the turning away of the St-Louis and the Komagata Maru.* We take great delight in the general inferiority of our neighbours to the South. "They couldn't find Saskatchewan on a map!" we say, amid nudges and guffaws, without actually saying why anyone would want to. At the 2006 World Junior Hockey Championships, the crowd at Pacific Coliseum cheered Norway in its game against the USA -- not because we have a high percentage of Norwegians in the area, but because the crowd wanted to see the Americans lose. There's a source of national pride for you!

Recently, at a general staff-and-management meeting at my company, a co-worker expressed concerns about a new benefits package we were being offered, and stated matter-of-factly that she was afraid it would be some "American-style" system. There was one of those pauses, while we all remembered that our newly arrived CEO is from Chicago. Welcome to the country!

It's a given that "American-style" = evil, not sensitive to people's needs, profit-oriented, serving The Man. That kind of attitude is as much a part of the Canadian Experience as winter and Hockey Night in Canada (with or without Dolores Claman's theme music). (And let's not even start on the topic of electing someone who believes in the Word of God!)

But we forget something very important here. While we vilify, or at least hold in suspicion bordering on contempt, US military power and its attitude of being "the world's policeman", the freedoms we have enjoyed in this country have been largely due to the fact that we've had this cop on our street corner. While we were experimenting with anything from Medicare to state-run TV to minority rights and even sheltering draft dodgers, we were able to do so in the knowledge that Uncle Sam could and would come to our aid if anything happened. While some might argue that our best and brightest were getting killed in Europe while the US dithered over whether to join WW2 on that front, one could also argue that they provided the "fresh legs off the bench" that we needed to put an end to the Axis once and for all. During the Cold War, what exactly prevented the USSR from reaching across the Arctic Ocean and helping itself to our resources, land and people? The fact that the USA has this PHENOMENAL "NIMBY" complex. And when we want to sell our manufactured goods, where do we go?

But when a gang of terrorists wiped out almost 3000 people in one go -- affecting millions of people not just in NYC but even in Canada, a common attitude was that "they brought it on themselves"; there was a rush to try to "understand" the terrorists while we fell all over ourselves trying to prove that the terrorists' culture was not responsible for it. We even harbor the rock-dwelling lintbrains who claim that it was all a setup.

So while 9/11 is a date on which Americans will remember -- or contemplate -- what happened that day, it's a good time for us outside the country to remember that the US often takes the bullet - so we don't have to.

*The St-Louis was a ship, which wandered the world for several months in 1936, carrying a load of Jews, escaping Nazi Germany. It was turned away from numerous countries, and one of those countries was Canada. Prime Minister Mackenzie King declared "none is too many", and an immigration official stated there was no way any country could open its arms wide enough to accept 800,000 Jews. The Christian clergy, alas, was on-side with the government. The St-Louis eventually returned to Germany, and most of the refugees on-board wound up in the Nazi death camps. In 2001, a group of Protestant leaders from across the country got together in Ottawa with Jewish leaders and some survivors of the St-Louis, and they spent a weekend (or possibly longer, I'm not sure) in a time of prayer, forgiveness and reconciliation. In May 2008, just before Prime Minister Harper issued an apology for the Komagata Maru incident, the federal government announced an apology and gestures of reparation.

He comes through again!

As we've mentioned in so many posts, both here and at my Convenient Truth blog, the story of The Lord's Rain has been one of God's provision. He has intended for this project to happen from the get-go, and even at times when the world might say it couldn't happen, He's done something to prove the world wrong.

Some years ago, the Lord told me I was not to have anything to do with gambling -- and that included receiving money from gaming revenue. I'll go into the minutiae of that in another post, but for now, let's just say that gambling is an all-you-can-eat buffet of Things That Offend God -- lust, greed, laziness and the absence of faith represented by putting more trust in the turn of a card than in God to provide our needs. As for the revenue, because gambling is an addiction, the proceeds can hardly be said to have been given willingly to a church or other organization. It's been taken, and in many ways, the whole system profits from human misery.

Kenneth Copeland put it quite finely when he said that gambling cannot be ordained by God, because gambling involves losing, and God would never ordain something where somebody loses.

A couple of years ago, a particular church supported the work I was doing on the Downtown East Side. One day, I looked at the cheque and did a double-take. It was written on the church's "gaming revenue account". I told the church as politely as I could that I was not allowed to accept that money and I laid out my reasons. They piously declared they would respect my wishes.

Then one of my helpers -- who's still associated with that same church -- started receiving money to purchase food for Gospel Mission and our Saturday night services in particular. I had my suspicions about the source of the money but I have to confess, I did nothing out of fear of a variety of things. Finally -- a couple of months ago -- the Lord got in my face about it, so I swallowed hard and told my helper that if the money was, indeed, from gaming revenue, he would have to tell the church, thanks-but-no-thanks.

Why did I swallow hard? Because the enemy -- the world -- was nattering at me that I was putting the Mission in jeopardy ... that we were already having financial struggles, so I shouldn't blow off a source of income like that ... but I declared -- and did so in an email to our supporters -- that God would provide.

Immediately, someone else stepped forward and said she'd re-direct her tithe to pay for the groceries. There was a period when things looked a bit bleak -- darkest before the dawn, as they say -- and then donations started coming in: big ones and small ones, as God tapped people on the shoulder to help.

And this happens as we get an object lesson in how dangerous it is to rely on gaming money. The BC government is 'reviewing' its gaming grant programs. This morning's Vancouver Sun reports that a total of $77 million will be shed from the pot, meaning organizations -- groups that do some big things for their communities -- will have to make do with less.

I thank God that He warned us not to accept that money and that we heeded the warning; but I say that not out of smugness or self-righteousness: we could very easily have fallen out of faith and continued receiving the gaming revenue and even applied for a grant of our own. I pray that the Lord will help meet the needs of those organizations that are struggling and even that they, too, will turn to Him to be their Provider. He did it for us - He can do it for them, and the thing I've learned from The Lord's Rain is that you only have to ask.

One further note: the amount the province has set aside for grants out of gaming revenue is $139 million. The BC Lottery Corporation website states the government received almost $1.1 billion last year. You do the math.