It's Burgundy! - and a special thanks to the City

"Am I goin' to hell?" Jeremy called to me, more than half joking. He flapped the reddish blanket he had draped over his shoulders. "I'm wearin' the devil's cape!"

I shook my head, "I'd call that a purple robe," I said, trying to give it a more Christ-like interpretation.

Jeremy -- minus the Burgundy/red/purple robe -- photo bombs my
promo for "In His Image, Too ..."

Jeremy looked at the blanket and said, "it's Burgundy," and shambled off towards the others in Pigeon Park.

We were outside The Lord's Rain Saturday morning, and I was talking with Ron and Lance when Jeremy had come along. "Burgundy!" said Lance. "He's right."

Ron shook his head. "There's so many smart people around here," he said. "When I first came down here [over a decade ago], I just assumed everyone down here was stupid -- a bunch of losers. But I'm amazed: there are doctors, professors ... guys who just kinda flipped out."

"Look at Len," I put in, referring to a fellow with a professional engineering designation who now cannot put a coherent sentence together -- not coherent to us, at any rate*.

Lance added, "you're right: there are some really educated people here."

It just reinforces what we've been saying for years: any stereotyped image you might have considered for the "typical" Downtown Eastsider gets blown out of the water by one fairly simple means: talking to one.

I wouldn't call Jeremy "educated", but there's no question that he's a very smart young man. In fact, he's quite well-equipped, physically and intellectually -- except that he has anger issues (others have reported seeing him take out another person with a single punch) and, being Native, has come to the plate with at least one strike against him. He sleeps rough. Take your pick of the reasons: (a) no shelter would want to take him, (b) he's afraid for his own safety in a shelter (from people he's punched-out before), (c) he's on the incredibly long waiting list for a place through BC Housing, or (d) all of the above. But his toughness is a facade, and behind it, I see an incredibly vulnerable and lost young man  It appears he's given up trying to move ahead -- or even trying to stay in the same spot.

Jeremy comes into The Lord's Rain most mornings to have a shower; but a lot of the time, too, he'll just come in and fall asleep on one of our benches. I've also picked him up off the floor when he's collapsed, shivering and near-paralyzed, from fatigue and cold. And I wrote last summer of a time when he picked up a Bible and asked me to read him something. Psalm 91 ("He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide in the shadow of the Almighty.") came to mind: the message of comfort and protection when we put our trust in the Lord. He seemed to be encouraged by it. It's one of the great hope-filled passages, and hope is probably the commodity most in demand -- and least in supply -- on the Downtown East Side.

===

Ron is an enigma. I have a lot of time for him: ever since I've known him, he's come to our services and spent much of the time reading. At first, I thought he wasn't paying attention, but early on, he would come up to me afterwards with an observation based on what my message had been, which indicated that he was a lot more "into" it than one would think.

Unable to work due to disability, he receives disability "benefits" (don't you love that euphemism?) and a shelter allowance, so he has his own digs, and works the back alleys as a binner for the remainder of his income. How he pushes his wiry, arthritic body through the streets in all weather, shoving a cart ahead of him, is beyond me, but somehow he does; and I've rarely heard him complain about being sick. But sick, he is: I've watched him deteriorate, physically, over the years. A couple of years ago, he nearly lost an arm. He was reaching into a dumpster and cut himself on something. He didn't think much of it and went on about his routine, but the cut was quickly infected (not a difficult thing in those alleys) and before he knew it, he was in hospital with one arm considerably larger than the other. Doctors literally had to open his arm to drain the poison out of it and the scar is very visible when he wears a sleeveless shirt in the summer.

Yet he keeps on, never losing his humor. Any time I start to complain about the sniffles, I give my head a shake.

===

One of the ongoing bêtes noires we've faced over recent years has been the Downtown East Side Street Market. Every Sunday, the 300 block Carrall Street is closed and dozens of people -- mostly binners -- set up shop to sell stuff. It's mostly second- or third-hand goods: not exactly St Lawrence Market in Toronto or The Rocks in Sydney, Australia, but people buy and sell.

The reason it's been problematic for us at Gospel Mission is that the 300 block Carrall Street is right outside our door and the market takes place right when our services are happening. The market has proven to be a deterrent to a lot of people coming to these services, and Barry spent a fair bit of time, trying to keep the pathway clear and pestering City Hall to install portable toilets and get the Market organizers to prevent any selling in front of the Mission.

There's been some success in that, although Anthony, Barry's son, can tell you he's been greeted with verbal -- and sometimes physical -- abuse when he's asked people to respect that "no-sell zone". In the past year or so, though, the Market has put up a fence and posted a security person outside our door. 

A week ago Sunday, though, we were greeted with a handbill, stuck in the door, to wit:

WARNING

SUNDAY January 18th, 2015

We regret to inform you that the City of Vancouver has failed to provide necessary operating funds for the regular Sunday market that has existed at Pigeon Park for almost five years. Starting today, market organizers will be forced to reduce staff to accommodate this new budget reality.  We regret any inconvenience that this may cause. 

If you have any complaints, please call 311 or e-mail dtesstreetmarket@gmail.com to have these complaints forwarded to the City of Vancouver.

There was no logo on the flyer and it wasn't signed, but we noted quickly that the fence was not there and there were only a few security staff, roaming about the market with no one actually posted outside our door.

Someone said to Ian, "You guys will be in trouble, now!"

A fight broke out underneath the office window: one of the sellers apparently believed someone was trying to steal some of his merchandise. No staff stepped in to help out: another seller broke up the fight.

The next day, I fired an email off to the Mayor and each individual Council member. Four of them -- Andrea Reimer, Kerry Jang, Tim Stevenson and Raymond Louie -- got back to me within an hour, saying they'd look into it. Ms Reimer said that, rather than a cut in funding, the Market was actually about to get a funding increase and they'd be receiving the cheque that coming Thursday. The source of the information in the flyer was unclear.

Then I heard from the head of Community Services, assuring us that there was no funding cut. She had had several calls since Sunday morning from people complaining that the City wasn't supporting the Market.

This past Sunday (the 25th), a security person was back at the door and the fence was back up.

Was this a clumsy attempt to bully City Hall? Hard to say, and we have no way of knowing what was said to the organizers of the Market on Thursday. But a big thank-you! to those City Councillors for getting on the stick as quickly as they did!

===

A new volunteer has stepped up to become a server rather than a servee. Joe has been coming into The Lord's Rain pretty much since it opened, working on the Bottle Depot's street-and-alley-cleaning crew. He was always very friendly towards me, but for some reason, he and Danilo rubbed each other the wrong way. They nearly came to blows a few times, usually when Danilo would deny him an extra bun. Danilo has been learning about customer service (like, how to tell someone they can't have another bun without implying they're being greedy pigs for wanting one) and has been getting better, mainly under Ken Franklin's tutelage. But Ken is no longer with us. And that brings us to Joe.

I walked into The Lord's Rain on Saturday to find Joe serving coffee, setting up the styrofoam cups on the counter so they would be ready. Danilo was upstairs, preparing the buns. "I need to do this because of Kenny," Joe said. "He was like a father to me [Ken was maybe 10 years older than Joe], so I'm carrying on what he started."

Danilo came downstairs, set the tray of buns on the counter and went behind the desk. That was a scene I never thought I'd see: Danilo and Joe, working side by side. A sense of humility and grace on the two of them. Sometimes, we wonder about legacies, and that would be one of Ken's.

This prayer's a no-brainer -- really!

As I write this, it is Thursday afternoon and I have been sitting guard over The Lord's Rain since about 8am. There was a breakin overnight: someone managed to smash through the security glass panel in our front door (the kind with wire mesh embedded), open the door and get in. They were going after our large-screen TV, which we use to "pipe" the Carrall Street Church services from upstairs, so that people with disabilities can take part.

They even brought a golf club cart to carry it.

Anyway, they didn't get it. They got the TV off the wall and onto the floor, but took off -- probably because they heard the sirens. The police arrived even before our friend Ian got here: he lives nearby and was called when the intrusion alarm went off. 

Police say they got excellent-quality prints, so they may well catch these people. And now, I'm waiting for the glass-repair people to show up. 

So ... my prayer request to you: forgiveness for the people who did this and a revelation of God to bring them to repentance. Also, that the repairs won't be too costly and that we'll get the TV re-installed quickly so it can continue to serve our people. (The TV is intact, except for the input connectors, which were broken off inside the jacks.)

Jezebel's music

I don't believe in coincidences, so I know God is behind some of the things I've seen even among those I follow on Twitter. The latest is Rick Warren, tweeting Paul's exhortation, "Watch out for anyone who causes trouble and divides the church. Stay away from them!" (Rom. 16:17) Before that, David Pitman re-tweeted this quote: "judgmentalism is 1 of most subtle sins; often practiced under guise of zeal 4 right".

Now, read on.

Jezebel is a very sneaky spirit.

We read about Jezebel throughout 1 & 2 Kings: her murderous manipulation and control and determination to destroy the followers of the God of Israel. She is the only human capable of causing Elijah, the great man of God, to run and hide.

J herself was crushed to a pulp by a chariot and what was left of her was licked up by dogs in the street, but her name lives on in a spirit that is sent to try to destroy the church. Elijah had prophesied that, in fact ... and it came to pass.
Jezebel can be counted on to show up when a church is showing signs of "success", trying to sow seeds of discord. She generally arrives cloaked in a very righteous-appearing person, who then attempts to use the Word of God to undermine the works of the church.

(By "church", I mean any group dedicated to sharing, experiencing and spreading the Gospel -- it doesn't necessarily have to be an institution, but it could be a home group, ministry outreach or prayer circle.)

Let's just say I have some pretty extensive, first-hand experience with Jezebel, going back many years. When she was first exposed in someone I'd regarded as holy and righteous -- and who had spent a great deal of time trying to "put me in my place" or "call me on my s**t" -- it was a very rude and very welcome awakening. The awakening included a loud, clear message from the Holy Spirit: "you are not the Problem!"

Hold that particular theme. Anyway, Jezebel has been showing up at The Lord's Rain lately, in the form of a woman I've known since Rainbow Mission. Immediately, she took issue with the radio we were playing and lately, she has stepped up her "cautions" about allowing "that kind of music" into a house of the Lord. "How can you call it 'The Lord's Rain' if you're playing that music that comes straight from hell?"

Jezebel's definition of "straight from hell": secular.

"We have to separate ourselves from the world," she goes on, "and not scatter the sheep. I can't stand to go in."

"Well," I replied, "as Jesus says, the healthy have no need of a doctor; we're trying to reach out to the sick ones."

Then she went on about purity and holiness.

For the record, the radio we play isn't exactly death metal. It's JACK FM, with Larry and Willy -- a couple of the nicest guys on-air and off you'd ever want to meet. (I worked with Willy's dad, the legendary Don Percy, back in my radio days: he had moved to Vancouver from Edmonton and one day we were chatting in the parking lot and I pointed to the electric plugs sticking out of his car's grille -- connecting to the block heater, which is standard equipment for any car owned east and north of Chilliwack. I said, "you won't need those anymore." He said, "Drew ... you never know." Less than a year later, he had moved back to Winnipeg, his original stomping grounds.) -- or occasionally CHQM-FM with "soft rock favorites". (I like Bro Jake on Classic Rock 101 as a person, but his rather edgy on-air persona is not to my taste.)

The reality, of course, is that The Lord's Rain is what we refer to as "soft evangelism" -- reaching out to people who need to be reached but who still aren't comfortable in a "church environment". As we've seen over the years, many of the people who've come into The Lord's Rain have since started coming to the services upstairs at Gospel Mission; and for others, it's just a matter of time. Allowing a secular radio station to be played -- which we wouldn't do in the Mission -- helps contribute to that comfort level.

But to return to my Jezebel-walking friend, she doesn't know it, of course, but Jezebel's whole tactic here is to keep a church and its people off-balance, questioning their fitness to serve God. In dealing with that spirit, the best tactic is not to try to fight it on a worldly level -- trying to use words to counter -- but to stand on what you know: the fruits, the evidence of God's blessing, the innate knowledge that you are being led by the Spirit of God, regardless of what someone else says.

And walk away. Don't bother quarreling with the Jezebel spirit.

Interestingly, one of the people I follow on Twitter sent this quote today: "Freedom keeps us soaring, but quarreling destroys our ability to fly." (Victor Manuel Rivera). And in one of those coincidences that really isn't, my friend Bruce MacPherson blogged today on the difference between appearances and reality.

Mainly, I count it all joy, as Paul would say. The devil doesn't bother with those who don't threaten him, so a visit from Jezebel should be taken as affirmation. You prepare for it the way Patton prepared for Rommel and get on with the job at hand.

.

The "Worst" kind of violence?

A message board outside a church near my place currently (at least, as of Sunday) displays the aphorism, "Poverty is the worst kind of violence".

I've spent the past couple of days muttering, "what the heck does that mean?". It's a little like eating spicy food that still needs salt: something is missing there.

To begin with, the word "violence" generally has some negative connotations, and when I hear a term used like that, it's often in the context that someone else is guilty of it.

But whom are we accusing?

Lest we cudgel our brains into porridge over this, let's remind ourselves that even Jesus, the Son of God, acknowledges that there will always be poverty. That's why one of His commandments to His followers is to take care of the poor. Not eradicate poverty (which is one of those well-meaning, world-based "goals" that seems laudable, but because it's impossible to achieve, can bring a sense of futility and despair when that goal is never reached), but lift the poor out of the mire to make room for and set an example for the others who, inevitably, will slip. Just as God sends storms and illness and other trials to strengthen our faith and increase our reliance on Him; just as He created good and evil, darkness and light, I believe poverty is one of His creations so that those who are not impoverished can carry out that commandment and so that we can all learn how interdependant we are on one another and on God.

So if we make a statement like, "poverty is the worst kind of violence," are we not leveling an accusation at God?

"The poor," Jesus says, "ye shall have always." He never says they'll be the same poor. An area like the Downtown East Side should be a flow-through point, where people come for a time, and then get on with life. Missions like ours exist to get people turned around and back on track. Sadly, the DTES has become less of a thoroughfare and more of a dead end, with bodies and lives piling up.

Rather than look at poverty as being violence, I believe it's an opportunity from God: an opportunity to help and be helped and to see His glory, no matter what. I remember a fellow who came in often to Rainbow Mission (which closed at the end of 2006) and whom I still see from time to time -- Abraham Jones is his name -- and he once gave a testimony: "I thank God that I don't have a roof over my head tonight. I thank God that I don't know where my next meal is coming from. I thank God that I don't have a job." The inference was that he knew he could rely on God through anything and he was grateful for the opportunity; it's easy to glorify Him when things look good, but to do so when things look bad requires a whole lot of faith.

So is poverty "violence"? No. Keeping people in poverty, whether by ignoring them (like the rich dude in Jesus' parable, who ignores the pleas of the beggar Lazarus) or creating institutions that deny them hope and the truth of the Gospel, is closer -- definitely, an offence to God.

The story goes that a newspaper surveyed its readers about 100 years ago with the question, "what is the greatest threat to mankind?" The great author, GK Chesterton, submitted a simple, two-word response: "I am."

Let me turn that on its ear. What is the greatest asset of mankind?

You are.

We are.