I think I've mentioned Marty before in these emails. A teacher whose life was dragged down by drug addiction, he first raised my eyebrows* when he supplied the line, "each man's death diminishes me" after I had quoted John Donne's "No man is an island, entire of himself ...". It was my first glimpse of the level of education among many of the people in the area. It wouldn't be my last.
*(I can only raise both eyebrows: the ability to raise only one, raised to an art form by Ian Carmichael as Lord Peter Whimsy and my friend Arlene for comedic effect during an drama exercise, has always eluded me.)
Marty has had a few false starts on his road back. For a time, it looked like the school district would lift his suspension: that didn't happen; he worked for a time as an advocate through the health region: I'm not sure how that ended. Teaching people is his forte, and not having anyone to teach has been the toughest part, I think. Lately, he's been looking into teaching English as a second language, but that requires certification, certification requires taking courses, and taking courses requires money.
Marty had been searching for grants, scholarships, etc., etc., with no success, but this morning, he had some better news to report.
"The Housing Society (the non-profit group that administers his housing situation) is going to help me," he said. Apparently, he's to take some preliminary courses, receive an honorarium for that, and the deal is, if he plows the honorarium into the tuition fee, the housing society will pay for the rest. "They want to know that I'm serious."
"Praise the Lord," I said. "A second -- another -- chance."
"'Another chance' is right," he said. He's had more than a few and he knows it: one of his enemies through these struggles is that little voice that keeps nattering at him that he's messed-up before, so he'll probably mess up this time. We need to keep Marty in prayer that he'll get that supernatural strength to push past that voice and keep focused on "newness". It's really the only chance any of us has.
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"I've rarely seen her that lucid."
That observation came from a friend who recently retired from 20-plus years as an advocate for Vancouver's homeless, and we have a lot of mutual friends in the area. The presentation on The Lord's Rain that I delivered in late June includes clips from people who've been involved in the Ministry. That includes the people who come to the place. (The presentation can now be viewed online, and I hope you'll take some time (48 minutes) to check it out. If you would like a DVD copy for your church, home group or organization, please let me know and I'll pop it in the mail for you.)
There are several people I refer to as "fallen geniuses" at The Lord's Rain. Lojas (pronounced like the Spanish "Luis") is one -- a Hungarian fellow who has tried more ways than I can count to find his way of serving the Lord and spreading the Gospel. At Rainbow Mission, he would put on puppet shows of Bible stories, using "puppets" that amounted to pieces of cardboard with appropriate names printed on each (like "SNAKE" for the story of Adam and Eve). He pitched to me a game he had been trying to develop, "Gospel Chess", in which no one defeats the other: since Jesus is about Unity, the idea is not to "take" the other player's pieces but bring them all together as one. I left our meeting understanding one thing: here was a genius -- and a devout and dedicated one -- but something was misfiring.
There are others who are similarly well-spoken, with advanced vocabularies; but there are times when their sentences make no sense. Not to me, anyway. Sometimes they're silly; sometimes they're ranting; often, it's as if they were reading a script made up of unconnected words and phrases, and the writer has written each word on a separate slip of paper and tossed them all into the air.
But when I put them in front of a camera to talk about The Lord's Rain and what it means to them, their expressions become remarkably clear. I think that tells you something about the spiritual impact it has on people.
Rudy is not one of the "fallen geniuses": he's lucid every time I talk to him. He's not in this presentation, but he said a very important thing about The Lord's Rain a couple of years ago, when CBC TV did a feature on the place. In an interview (and I can't relate this with any kind of false humility), he referred to me and said "he always has time to listen to us." I'd hardly spoken to him up to that point, so he had no way of knowing that I was going through one of those periods of self-doubt, wondering if what I was doing was really doing any good. Somehow, Rudy was moved to say something, and when my friend Gloria, who did the interview, relayed that to me, it was as if the Lord had used Rudy to say to me, "hang in there, kid!"
And now, I'm afraid he's very ill -- more than he's willing to let on. He comes in every morning -- he used to come in with his wife, Audrey, but I haven't seen her in some time (he tells me she's fine, but tends to sleep late) -- and sits quietly with his coffee. He's never asked for anything, but The Lord's Rain has become his "morning place".
A few weeks ago, he told me he had an appointment at an AIDS clinic. "Is it serious?" I asked, which was kind of a stupid question, in retrospect. "I'm fine," he replied. He's never said that he actually has AIDS or what, but it's clear that he's been losing weight rapidly, and that's a very bad sign. But as Jesus has said, sickness -- even a supposedly incurable disease (like death, in the case of His friend Lazarus) -- is an opportunity for God's glory to show, which is why we need to lift Rudy and Audrey up in prayer.
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