It's all about HOPE

"And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three: but the greatest of these is charity." (1 Cor. 13:13 KJV)

We hear much about faith and charity (actually, the Greek word Paul used was agàpé, which means selfless, unconditional love -- "charity" was the best King James I's team could come up with) as the Great Spiritual Characteristics, but hope doesn't seem to get much attention. Yet Hope is the dearest currency for the people we serve at The Lord's Rain. 

James has been coming into Gospel Mission for many years, and when I got to know him, he had just been crippled by a stroke. He was about 60 when the stroke hit him, and it limited his ability to speak, but there were a few of us who could pick up what he was trying to say and help communicate.

One thing he hadn't communicated to me was the problem with his shoulder. I had been talking to him one night at the Mission, and patted him on the shoulder, and he practically screamed. He pulled down the collar of his t-shirt and revealed that a broken collarbone with the bone sticking up through his skin.

A few days later, I took him to the welfare office to see if they knew who might have his medical records -- any kind of indication of his treatment. The worker looked at me as if I was crazy. "We don't keep those records. I don't know where they are," he said. James didn't have any family close by -- or anywhere, it seems -- so on paper, he didn't really exist.

Through a long sequence of events, I learned that his shoulder was basically inoperable. Because he was an alcoholic and needed a walker to get around, there was a risk, the surgeon told me, that even if they used a metal plate to bridge the gap between the bones, James might trip and fall, break the plate and develop an infection. Prognosis: live with it.

His public health worker had taken an interest in him, and called me one day to discuss his case. She explained that he was threatened with eviction from his room because he had been caught smoking crack after he had been warned about it.

"Clearly," I pontificated, "James has to get off the drugs."

There was a pause, while the idiocy of that remark sank in. We said the next line together: "Why?"

And that's where Hope comes in: why should a 60-something man, crippled by a stroke, with a broken collarbone that keeps him in constant pain, make any kind of effort to get off drugs? As 'tis said, drugs are not the problem on the Downtown East Side, they're the solution.

And in the absence of Hope, that's exactly the case.

But James found something in coming to the Mission. Much against fire regulations, he would have someone else carry his walker up to the Mission and haul his slight frame up the stairs after it. His arrival would be greeted like Norm on "Cheers!" -- John Sharp would usually be the first to roar, "JAMES!", joined by others (ahem). But stuff happens: when we got the TV installed in The Lord's Rain so that people with disabilities could watch the services (as we explained a few years ago, the building is too old to retrofit with any kind of lift for wheelchairs or scooters), James had to take part there, but he missed the fellowship of being upstairs with the rest and then the frustration of losing his faculties took a major toll on his attitude, and he would be increasingly prone to explode in rage at people - usually barraging them with the "f-bomb". 

He stopped coming for a while, but then, he started to make his way back. This past Monday, Anthony Babcook posted an update on Facebook, to wit:

"Yesterdays message touched James(Jimmy as people call him) he's a handicap thats a big handful at abut has a heart to keep coming back. I had a talk in a way me and him have worked out to communicate and he was pointing at Drew on the t.v. and he was crying when he said in his way the FATHER SON HOLY SPIRIT with his hand over his head heart and wrists. The only word you hear the most come out of his mouth may be F... but his heart is changing if its only bit by bit"

James' heart is changing. There it is: HOPE. I don't know if he's licked that crack habit or if he still drinks, but I do know that he doesn't look or act like an addict or a drunk anymore. There is something different in his eyes, his demeanour. I saw James a bit later Sunday afternoon (I hadn't read Anthony's post at that point), panhandling outside Waterfront Station, and his face broke into a broad smile and he flashed the "peace" sign at me (one of his favorite ways of communicating) and gripped my hand with his left -- he always tries to crush my hand to show he's still strong, at least on that side -- and you can just tell that this is a different man.

***

Victoria has had her ups and downs, too. I mentioned her a year ago, when she woke up one morning to find her husband dead in bed beside her. She came straight to The Lord's Rain and just sat there, pouring it out to John. This past Tuesday, she came in, very excited about starting a new training course. Vancouver Community College is offering a course in basic employment skills -- six weeks of learning about computer operations, numeracy ("arithmetic plus", as she noted on her information sheet), interpersonal skills, problem-solving and a bunch of others. She's 54 now, and whether she'll be able to parlay these skills into employment is anybody's guess; but you could see the hope in her eyes: as she takes the course, she'll acquire skills she didn't have before and get a sense of what she can do, rather than dwell on what she can't.

Again: HOPE. "... hope that is seen is not hope;; for why does one still hope for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with perseverance." (Paul's letter to the Romans, ch. 8, verses 24-25.)

***

JOB POSTING AT CARRALL STREET CHURCH

POSITION ANNOUNCEMENT:

Pastor/Director (paid, P/T)

Gospel Mission Society

Gospel Mission is located in an historic (1889)
building in Vancouver's Downtown East Side

Are you called into Ministry?

Do you have a heart for the poor and destitute?

Do you want to make a difference in your own backyard?

An opportunity exists to take the reins of Western Canada’s oldest continuously-operating urban mission. Founded in 1929, Gospel Mission serves Vancouver’s Downtown East Side through two ministries: Carrall Street Church and The Lord’s Rain, a facility that provides showers six days a week.

As Pastor/Director, you will:

• Cast a vision for the future of the Mission and work with a committed, dedicated Board and volunteer staff to achieve it 
• Oversee the operations of the organization, including fundraising, liaising with the landlord and coordinating the Mission’s various services 
• Preach the Sunday afternoon message and arrange for Worship leaders
• Be available to give pastoral counselling, as needed

You will have a thorough knowledge of Scripture and be eligible for licensing by the Apostolic Church of Pentecost of Canada (ACOP). 

In all things, you will be supported by the volunteer staff and the Board of directors, with oversight from senior ACOP pastors in the region.

For full information and to apply, please contact Stan Powers, stan@sonrise.ca.

"... you shall be witnesses to Me in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria and to the end of the earth."

-- Acts 1:8 (NKJV)

RIPPED FROM THE HEADLINES! (of DUH Magazine)

It's been a long time since the last post, but lots has happened in the interim -- including the news that a study was being launched to see if changing the way welfare is distributed might change drug use habits. It riffs off the conclusion of another study that found that a sudden increase in the amount of available cash appears to lead to an increase in drug use.

What was your first clue, Sherlock? It's axiomatic around the Downtown East Side, that in the couple of days after "Welfare Wednesday", you will see more whacked-out people -- and more-whacked-out people. Our Wednesday night Bible studies at Gospel Mission were turned over to prayer sessions on the last Wednesday of the month, because that was when the Downtown East Side needed prayer the most.

So now, someone apparently got paid to do a study that reached that same conclusion. There are times when I wonder if I'm in the wrong line of work. Forgive me, Lord: that's the worldly (and cynical) part of me coming out.

The new study is to see if the habits of drug addicts will change if they get their dole differently. Some will stay with the monthly payments, but others will be paid twice a month by direct deposit. Will they be less likely to OD if they don't get these sudden cash windfalls? 

The idea appears to have merit, although I can see that there could be logistical issues, such as the cost of changing the system and whether it should be changed for all welfare recipients or just those identified as drug addicts. For now though, Question 1 would have to be, Would it work? 

But I can't help thinking that our citizens would be better served if we took the funds earmarked for these studies and simply GOT PEOPLE OFF DRUGS! Officialdom has lost sight of the fact that recovery is possible -- ever since former mayor Sam Sullivan said, in essence, that drug addicts have as much chance of recovering as he had of getting out of his wheelchair, it seems like health officials have given up. I remember taking Frank from The Lord's Rain to InSite, to see if he could get into OnSite, their recovery facility. They told him, "there's no room: come back tomorrow."

The fact that they did not give him a list of the recovery programs that are available and that work, tells one how serious they are about the health of addicts. 

The fact is, people do recover, and I ran into one such example last week in Abbotsford. An old friend from radio days in Victoria, Jim Leith, had invited me to a monthly luncheon laid on by his church, Immanuel Fellowship Baptist, to give a presentation on The Lord's Rain. As it turned out, one of them had a lot of first-hand experience about The Lord's Rain.

Dave had been a Saturday-morning regular up until a few years ago, and then he just stopped coming around. As I've said before, that can be either really good news -- or really bad news. In Dave's case, it was good news. 

"I heard someone was going to be talking about it here, and I had to come!" he said, as he hugged me. Dave had learned about Immanuel's Friday Night Recovery Program and got plugged-in. Now, he's been sober for three years, clear-eyed, re-connected with his family, joy emanating from his pores; and he praises Jesus for the new life with every opportunity. 

I had planned to end the presentation with a video clip of people talking about what The Lord's Rain has done for them. With Dave there, that wasn't necessary. Not that I'd claim credit for The Lord's Rain for Dave's turnaround, but people can see, first-hand, that people in that situation can, and do, get out of it. I can't describe the exhilarating feeling of seeing someone who's made that turnaround.

Part of his turnaround came by getting the heck out of the DTES, with its constant reminders of the source of his grief and the nattering voice of the enemy, trying to tell him he can never change. Also working in his favor were his own desire to get rid of the addiction(s) and the dedication of one of the leaders of their Friday Night Recovery Program -- a man named John, a former biker and addict, who has walked beside Dave throughout the process. John is one of the leaders of the program and emphasizes that it's "Christ-based" -- not simply affirming a "higher power" (à la AA), but naming that Power (Jesus) and recognizing that without it, one is powerless to change. Having someone to Be There for the recovering person is vital.

The other key ingredient in recovery is hope. One of the harder messages to get across to someone is that being free from an addiction is not only desirable, it's possible. That's not an argument you can make in worldly, human terms. That's where faith and love come in, the still, small voice, quietly out-shouting that nattering voice of the enemy.

===

A couple whom I also had not seen in about three years also resurfaced recently. Shannon and Brannen are two recovering addicts who have held each other up through their various attempts at recovery and the various health issues that have come with it. Brannen is big and looks tough with his tattoos of "dark side" images; but the fear in his eyes was palpable when he would talk about his failing kidneys. Shannon, despite her own problems, has been a rock for Brannen -- and has a whole lotta love for others. We are called to "love the unlovely" and Shannon could give clinics in that. I've seen her spend an hour trying to comfort one man, whose issues include paranoia about the health-care and social workers who try to help him; Shannon has also sat there while a girl has poured out her soul after what's euphemistically called a "bad date" (i.e. she was a prostitute and a customer had just beaten her badly) before motioning to me to come over a pray for her.

Eventually, Shannon and Brannen moved to a place on the south end and got the heck out of the DTES: but they came back to say hello a couple of weeks ago when Brannen had to come downtown for treatment.

"We missed you, the last couple of times," Shannon said as she crushed my ribs. She has a new set of teeth and Brannen was looking good, so I asked him about his kidneys. "They were doing better," he said, "and then they switched me to Methadose." Methadose, I understand, is a more concentrated form of methadone, the substitute drug they give people to wean them off heroin. But it also has side-effects that are different from methadone -- and for Brannen, that meant more kidney failure. "I brought it on myself, man," he said, his eyes starting to redden, "and now I'm paying the price."

===

Seeing Shannon and Brannen, and Dave at the Abbotsford luncheon brought encouragement at a time when it was sorely needed. We had a number of people who came, clearly more drugged-out than usual. Debbie, who had told me this past summer, "I'm off the drugs and I'm never going back!", is back in the lineup for the methadone pharmacy a block away from the Mission; she's also gone back to demanding new clothing whenever she comes in, which suggests she's actually selling what we give her.

Mike, who used to be a bright light at our Saturday evening services, singing heartily during Worship and talking at length about his own journey, has been spinning out of control due to the drugs. His face is ravaged by their effects, almost all his teeth are gone and he rambles angrily, usually to no one in particular, often about being thrown out of community meetings. He is -- or was -- a highly intelligent person. As the old ads for the United Negro College Fund used to say, a mind is a terrible thing to waste.

But as we see with Dave and others who've made that breakaway, it's possible to restore the mind. The Lord told the prophet Joel, "And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten, the cankerworm, and the caterpillar, and the palmerworm, my great army which I sent among you." (Joel 2:25)

===

The man was still crossing in front of the bus when the traffic light went red. At first glance, it would have been easy to write him off as some street drunk, crossing the street whereverandwhenevertheheck he felt like it. But it's a broad street, and it was clear from the way he was moving -- with obvious difficulty -- that he could have started crossing even before the light had turned green and he would have been in the same position. The bus driver waited patiently until the man hauled himself onto the sidewalk. 

Then, as Amelia and I crossed to where he was, he tottered and fell. I went over and helped him up. "I got arthritis in my legs," he said. I walked him over to the bus bench, a few feet away. "Can I pray over you?" I asked. "Hey," he said, "you believe - I believe: I know He's watching over me." We prayed together.

We left him waiting for his bus and Amelia observed, "it never changes, does it?" Because this wasn't Vancouver: it was Portage and Garry in Winnipeg, just on the edge of that city's own version of Skid Row. That part of the windy city now has the trendy name of "Exchange District", hearkening back to its origins as the site of the Winnipeg Grain Exchange and the warehouses that developed around it, the railyards and the river. Apparently, it eventually became a version of the Downtown East Side, and now (surprise-surprise!) many of the warehouses are being redeveloped into modern, hip condos, restaurants and boutiques. Translation: gentrification is underway. I don't know if that word evokes the same visceral reaction that it does in Vancouver, but it wouldn't surprise me.

The next day, an Aboriginal man walked up to me and, out of the blue, declared, "I believe in Jesus!" He told me his name was Blackie and he went on, "I'm an alcoholic and I believe in Jesus!" We chatted for a while, and I couldn't help remembering the words of another pastor, who said, "if he's always drunk, he can't possibly love Jesus!" I dunno ... how does "love for Jesus" manifest itself? How about, in spite of your current physical state, walking up to a total stranger on the street and declaring you believe in Him -- perhaps knowing you might get a comeback like that?