Gospel Mission and the 3 P's

In one of his sermons on Living Truth, Charles Price talked about the three items in the Ark of the Covenant: the stone tablets containing God's Law, a jar of manna and Aaron's staff. Each represents a different aspect of our relationship with God. The tablets represent God's purpose, the manna represents His provision; Aaron's staff represents His power: this is the staff that blossomed and bore almonds while the staves of the representatives of the other 11 tribes of Israel remained sticks; Aaron's staff manifested God's power and life through Him.

Does that not apply to Gospel Mission? God's purpose has been playing out pretty much since the Mission was founded in 1929, in the Mission's principle of "God's food first" and its emphasis on being a place of Worship, ministry of the Gospel and demonstration of the love of Christ.

God's provision is represented in numerous ways, particularly in The Lord's Rain. It provides a place to meet a Basic Human Need, which is to be clean; but the fact that the facility has always met its rent and utility bills, often through miracles (OK: consistently through miracles), shows how God has made sure the ministry's worldly needs are being met.

And now we come to God's power. From what I've been hearing and reading on the Gospel Mission Society Facebook page, that has been descending, big-time, on the Mission. I'm getting reports of healings, people receiving the Holy Spirit, and other demonstrations of God's love and grace. It bruises my ego to say it, but it's happened since I was moved out (by God, I should point out) and Wesley Chadwick was moved in. (God has His way of moving us around like chess pieces: we usually have no idea what He's doing at the time, but He eventually shows us when we need to know it.)

This is exactly what God has shown me the Mission would be doing, and exactly what the Downtown East Side needs. It doesn`t need more money, more programs or more handouts: it needs a dose of the Holy Spirit and the Gospel, straight-no-chaser, to bring the hope people need to keep moving forward and turn their lives around -- for His name's sake.

Gospel Mission is an Ark in another way: like Noah's Ark. Years ago, God showed me that there would be Revival on the Downtown East Side with the Holy Spirit coming in like a flood, rising up and catching people unawares in its tide. The Cross would be the Ark for people to grab onto to avoid being swept away and drowned, and so long as Gospel Mission puts the Cross and all It represents first -- God, Jesus, Redemption, Forgiveness, Grace -- people will find the refuge and the hope they need there. With the manifestation now of God's power, going with His provision and purpose, we're seeing the two types of "ark" melding into one.

How to turn the Tim's incident into something good

The media in Vancouver has been abuzz lately with news that the manager of a downtown Tim Horton's outlet dumped water all over a man who was sleeping on the sidewalk. The doughnut chain has apologized, the manager will likely be pilloried, and some are calling for a boycott of Tim's.

But maybe there's a way to make a more lasting benefit out of a nasty incident.

To begin with, having spent over 10 years dealing with people who "live rough" on the Downtown East Side, I know they can be pretty difficult at times. Chances are, things escalated to a point where the Tim's manager acted out of frustration. As is so often the case with social media, the climactic incident is all that gets reported: we don't see the build-up. Were the case to go through the "usual legal process", we might get a completely different picture.

Trust me: there have been some instances over the years, where people around the Mission have pushed my buttons.

This isn't to defend the way it was handled. Clearly, this fellow could use more face-to-face time with those who live rough.

So I have a modest proposal.

Rather than fire the manager or send him to sensitivity training (the western-democratic, PC equivalent of "re-education camps"), have him volunteer for one or two mornings a week at The Lord's Rain. That's the showers facility run by Gospel Mission Society (not Union Gospel) next to Pigeon Park. It's open Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday from 6:30 until 9 AM or so. People can come in to have a shower or wash up and shave at the sinks; or just have a coffee and hang out.

It would be the ideal place for this manager to bring his talents -- serving customers -- and learn who these people really are. An old Anglican minister said to me many years ago, "You can never hate a man once you have talked to him." And so it can be here.

After all, what would punishment do, besides make the fellow defensive? He's already been pilloried in the media and his side of the story hasn't come out. And what would a boycott do, except assuage some people's sense of righteous indignation? It would fizzle after a while. And what would a cash donation to a charity do? That would be forgotten soon -- except for the tax receipt at the end of the year.

But think of it: the manager spends a couple of hours with us, then heads to work and has a completely different understanding of the people on the street. He passes that compassion on to the people he knows -- including his own staff -- and they start spreading it around. Maybe some of them start volunteering, themselves.

Talk about a Tim's "double-double"!

(If you want to know more about The Lord's Rain and volunteering, feel free to contact me.)

"I'd have to kill you all!"

No ... that wasn't a verbal threat -- not when it was spoken. It was Denise's way of politely declining a request.

Let me explain. 

Late last year, I mentioned that I was starting a project to record and preserve the stories of people on the Downtown East Side -- where they came from, where they were going when something went sideways in their lives, what they saw themselves doing a year down the road. The project is called "In His Image, Too ...", and the idea is to make the point that there are really a lot of similarities between the haves and the have-nots in our society -- or, as I've said before, any one of us is one slip-up away from winding up on Skid Row. If more people hear their stories and realize that, then maybe they'll be more motivated to help lift others out of poverty.

I started the project by getting Kris Cronk to talk and the result was promising. But it's been difficult convincing others to tell their stories, and the reason becomes very apparent: for many, it's too painful to go back over the past. That's the way Maggie put it, when I asked her if she'd share (Maggie is a 50-something woman who lived in the doorway of a restaurant for about a year while her SRO hotel room was renovated); Richard grew up in the notorious Indian Residential School system, and boiled his experience down to one word: "unspeakable"; others just shake their head; some give dark hints about what might happen if the wrong people were to see their faces; Junior laughed sardonically and muttered something about having 3 AK-47s at home that he might use some time. 

Then there was Denise, a lovely woman, now in her 50s and still quite pretty despite having lost most of her teeth. She works at one of the women's centres on the DTES, helping other women who have gone through experiences similar to hers.

Would she share those experiences for the camera? "Oh, no!" she said. "Someone in one of those 'groups' asked me to tell my story and I said, 'Forget it! I'd have to kill you all!'"

I don't think they're unaware that their stories could help others, but it's hard for so many people to talk about their past. So many of them try to escape it: why go back and revisit it? 

I have another reason for wanting to collect these stories: I've had too many people die in that area -- like Tina, Barry Smith, Pete -- without others knowing what really neat people they are. This project might help.

An internet TV outlet has offered to broadcast two of these videos, and maybe more. LivingStrongTV.com is based in South Carolina and its mission and the concept of "In His Image, Too ..." appear to fit nicely. I'm currently editing a second video and this half-hour show should be put together by the end of the week. I'll let you know when it's online.

(CRASS PROMOTION ALERT: I'm currently using an online crowdfunding tool to cover the production costs. If you have a mind to, please take a look at the website: http://www.faithlauncher.com/projects/761-in-his-image-too#/.)

===

If "In His Image, Too ..." is an attempt to alter preconceptions about people on the DTES, Kris' new project is another. He brings in some additional income by selling "Megaphone" magazine on the street. "Megaphone" is a "street paper" -- basically, a mouthpiece for the urban poor -- and people like Kris sell it for $2 a pop. Kris' turf is around Dunsmuir and Seymour streets, in the downtown business area and close to some of the English-language schools that serve foreign students. Many of these students tend to gather outside a 7-11 store at that corner during their breaks, smoking and chatting and practicing their new language.

One day a couple of months ago, Kris saw some of the newcomers on a walking tour, and they passed by a panhandler. The guide told them, "you'll see these people: don't give them money, because they'll only spend it on drugs."

Kris was peeved. It hurt, he told me, because he felt that was unnecessarily putting fear and a wrong idea into the heads of the newcomers, and he decided to do something to counter it. He's met some of the teachers at those schools, so he went to one of them to ask her if he could give a talk to her class about the "real realities" of the streets of Vancouver. She agreed, and he's now given one talk, has another scheduled for the coming week, and other teachers are interested, too. 

Kris has also written "The PESt Handbook", where PESt means "Pre-Emptive Strike". He describes it as hints for dealing with panhandlers so that they don't become a nuisance. Carry extra cigarettes, for example; keep a couple of $2 coins on-hand and offer it before the person asks, and then on subsequent encounters, they'll be less likely to bother you. The over-arching principle, Kris says, is not to judge people. 

I certainly agree with the premise, although I'm not sure about some of his solutions. Still, here's a great example of someone going beyond complaining about society's attitudes and actually doing something about the situation. Good on 'im.

===

The loss of Robin Williams gets one thinking about depression. Heaven knows, I've felt depressed, but I look at the state of people who've been pushed beyond the brink -- like Williams and my old friend Peter -- and I figure I must be OK. This much I do know: hanging out with "the guys" around the Mission has been a great anti-depressant. This isn't to say that when I feel down, I look for someone in worse shape than I am so I'll feel better; it's that so many people I know there have a lot of reason to be depressed and they somehow keep smiling and joking and hanging in.

Johnny is a case in point. He was Tina's boyfriend/husband/ol' man (marriage has rather a loose definition on the DTES), and we had to rally round him when she died suddenly two years ago. He's in his late 50s and still works, doing janitorial jobs. He came into The Lord's Rain this morning and announced he'd met a woman he'd been involved with 20 years ago and the two of them had found a place in the East End -- far away from the DTES, which was a relief to him. Cecil is missing one leg and gets around on a wheelchair: I don't hear him complain - he's generally good to have around. 

And then there's Bandit, who turned up at The Lord's Rain last Friday.

"Hey - you don't got no pants on!" 

Danilo, with his keen powers of observation, had spotted the essential deficiency in this man's wardrobe. He was tall, skinny, with a scraggly beard, wearing a black t-shirt and, aside from what appeared to be a pair of Depends, that was about it.

Oh, yes - shoes. He did have shoes on.

"Why don't I find you a pair of pants?" I offered. "Sounds like a great idea," he replied.

All I could find was a pair of women's slacks. "I'm not sure what kind of fashion statement we're making here," I said. "Hey - I'll make 'em work! Thanks!"

He pulled on the slacks one-handed, and I realized his left arm was useless, hanging from his shoulder like a clump of over-boiled linguine.

He came in the next morning, wearing the same t-shirt and a pair of filthy jeans. "I found these in the laundry pile," he said. "I better do a wash soon." 

"What's your name, bro'?"

"Around here, they call me 'Bandit'."

"Bandit."

"Yeah." He moved his shoulders from side to side, making the left arm swing like a pendulum. "This thing's useless, eh? So they started calling me ... [I said it with him] 'One-Armed Bandit'."

He explained that he'd lost the use of the arm when a motorcycle hit him about 15 years ago. He said it with that touch of irony that says that there was nothing he could do about it, so might as well laugh. 

And so it is with many of the people in the area: an ability to keep going when so much of The World might wonder what they had to live for. In a roundabout way, it reminds me of Paul's words to the Colossians: "To them [that is, to His saints, or those who believe] God willed to make known what are the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles: which is Christ in you, the hope of glory." The operative word is "hope".

A great "AHA!" - What is the opposite of poverty?

And when John had heard in prison about the works of Christ, he sent two of his disciples and said to Him, "Are You the coming One, or do we look for another?"

Jesus answered and said to them, 'Go and tell John the things which you hear and see: the blind see and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up and the poor have the Gospel preached to them. And blessed is he who is not offended because of Me.'"
-- Matt. 11:2-6

We feed them, we give them shelters: what's missing?

Something has been bugging me for quite a few years, now. On the Downtown East Side -- and indeed, in impoverished areas in general -- there is always talk of "social justice": housing the homeless, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, etc. etc. The talk in Vancouver became particularly loud and fervent during the 2010 Winter Olympics, when a movement called "Share the Gold" (I think it was) was founded, purportedly to raise awareness about the poverty issues manifesting in the very shadow of two of the main Olympic venues (three, if you include the North Shore mountains, where many of the skiing events were held).

Some churches got involved (this is not to be confused with "More Than Gold", an international Christ-based outreach to take advantage of the huge influx of people in the region and bring the Gospel to them by any means possible), so I rang up one of the organizers to see if I could be involved.

I explained that, during my ministry on the DTES, I had learned that the big problem there -- beyond housing, food, income, etc. -- was a lack of hope; by bringing the Gospel to the people in that neighborhood, we can restore the hope they need to turn their lives around. I offered to share that perspective with them.

"I affirm what you're doing," the chap said, "but ..."

I can't remember exactly what came after the "but", but it had something to do with the need to focus attention on the problems and demand something be done about it -- especially with all the wealth supposedly generated by the Olympics.

(I can't stand it, by the way, when someone says they "affirm" something. Very patronizing, don't you think?)

Mind you, I'm not one to condemn anyone for being patronizing -- lately, I've looked at feeding programs and shelters and clothing giveaways and thought, "anyone can do that -- where's Jesus in all this?" I've held my tongue, because I kept thinking those thoughts themselves seemed judgmental and self-righteous. But that didn't stop my feeling there was something missing.

Then came the Aha! moment this morning. Look at how Jesus affirms the presence of God among them:

Blind can't see ... and now they do.

Deaf can't hear ... and now they do.

Lepers are unclean ... and now they're cleansed.

Lame can't walk ... and now they do.

The dead are no longer alive ... and now they are.

The poor ... have the Gospel preached to them.

Jesus lists poverty alongside blindness, deafness, leprosy, lameness and death; and while He lists sight, hearing, cleansing, walking and life as the opposites of those first five, He states that hearing the Gospel is the opposite of being poor.

And note that He doesn't say "poor in spirit," as He says in Matthew 5:3 -- and which some say is a qualifier for His concept of poor. As I read that, He's talking about poor in spirit and poor in worldly resources.

Without the Gospel, where is the hope people need to move forward? Without that intangible "something" to strive for, how can people press towards the greatness that God has for them, when the world is writing them off as incurable? As we preach the Gospel to the poor, help them to know Jesus intimately and to trust in God with all they have, we help them to seek God and His Kingdom; as we do that, all the physical needs they have will be met. That's a solid promise from the Lord (Matt. 7:7-11) with no ifs, ands or buts.

More to the point, withholding the Gospel judges the poor by saying they're not worthy of a better life -- and who would want to be accused of that? "The destruction of the poor is their poverty" (Prov. 10:15).

And that's what's missing. That may explain why, five years after "Share the Gold" and "Riot 2010"; four years after the Occupy movement attempted to overthrow the world order, we still have abject poverty less than three miles away from multi-million-dollar homes and the world's wealth is still pretty much in the hands of a handful of people. In both instances, preaching the Gospel was not part of the equation. 

As human beings, we're wired to want to fix things that don't seem right to us. But as followers of Christ, we have to re-wire ourselves so that the first priority is to preach the Gospel and minister Hope; and trust God to be good to His Word and provide all the things that are needed.

Everyone Has A Story

We gotta get outta this place

If it's the last thing we ever do

We gotta get outta this place

'Cause girl, there's a better life for me and you

Those words by that eminent Worship band, Eric Burdon and the Animals, have Biblical connections, whether wittingly or unwittingly. Throughout the Bible, we read about people whose lives moved forward when they moved on. Abram (as he was then called) was commanded by God to leave his home in Ur near what was later Babylon and go to a different and potentially hostile place. "Arise, Joseph," Gabriel told the carpenter, "take Mary and the Babe to Egypt and stay there until those who seek His life have died." The other Joseph, he of the coat of many colors, was forcibly removed from his comfortable place as Jacob's favorite son: sold to some passing merchants and later in Egypt traded for purple, incense, and a eunuch to be named later.*

I ran into Albert this past Sunday. With his slightly misshapen head and speech impediment caused by having no teeth, he could easily be written off as a "typical" Downtown East Sider, possibly with a lower-than-average IQ.

He's not. Trust me.

He used to be a regular at The Lord's Rain. Polite, kindly, unassuming; he would come in and shower and shave and hang about to chat with us. Then one day, he announced proudly that he had a new place and was moving in.

The new place is in a condo project at 1st Avenue and Main Street. 1st is a few blocks beyond what I would call the outside edge of the Downtown East Side, and as I understand it, the project got the goahead, in part, because of the "social housing" component. Albert has a small, self-contained studio apartment - and so we don't see him in the neighbourhood much anymore.

I was waiting for a bus to go to church and Albert was en route to First Baptist Church, where they lay on a big breakfast for the poor on Sundays (not sure if it's every Sunday or certain ones, like just before Welfare Wednesday). We chatted a bit about where we were going and what the breakfast was like, and then I asked him, "So how's the new place working out?"

"It's great," he said. "I got my own kitchen and bathroom and it's really clean."

I mentioned that another chap I knew also had a place in the same building but there had been problems with drug addicts and dealers.

"Maybe on his floor," Albert replied. "Our (electronic key) cards only get us onto our floor. Mine's great."

The other fellow had pointed out that the dealers had managed to disable some of the locking functions and were able to move about.

"I've complained [to the people in charge of screening the residents] about the situation," Albert went on, "but they tell us, 'addicts need a place to live, too'."

"So do you," I pointed out.

Albert gave a sort of "it is what it is" shrug, and, with my bus arriving, we said our goodbyes.

Probably the biggest advantage to Albert's place is that IT'S NOT ON THE DOWNTOWN EAST SIDE. Many of the people I meet there would like nothing better than to get the heck out of there. As I wrote on another occasion, Marty summed it up by saying it's too easy to fall back into drugs, when all it takes is a phone call and maybe a half-block walk from your front door. Why would we want to keep people in such proximity to the very things, both the physical presence and the spiritual reminders, of the current state they're in? Life's troubles are only temporary, but in that environment, the present seems so permanent.

The paradox is that there are so many dedicated services on the Downtown East Side for the mentally ill, addicted and chronically sick -- people whose personal stories include workplace injuries from which they've never recovered, diabetes or the effects of longterm alcohol use. Moving away can make those safety nets seem out of reach. But surely there's a way to make those nets mobile and give at least some of the people who need them a better chance at breathing free.

Some years ago at the old Rainbow Mission, I preached a message called "If you don't go -- you won't grow!" One fellow piped up, "What if the only place where you feel like you're accepted is the place you're in?"

He had me there, although from a pure "faith perspective", if God sends you to a place (and that's one of the keys to Abram's experience), then it doesn't matter if people in the area "accept" you or not. Scripture tells us that Abram/Abraham gradually earned the respect of the Canaanites. In this day and age, we're expected to be more accepting of people, so that question should be our problem -- not his. 

***

"You can never hate a man," an old Anglican priest once told me, "once you've talked to him." One of the keys to breaking down that artificial barrier around the DTES is to hear the stories of the people who live there. If you click here, you'll find Segment 1 of an exercise to that end. It's called, "In His image, too ...", and the first installment is the story of Kris Cronk. Over the months to come, you'll see more people who come into The Lord's Rain, telling their stories.

The trick, of course, is to get them to talk. I asked Maggie, a woman who's lived most of the last two years in a doorway on Cordova Street (she finally moved indoors this past week): "No," she said, "it's far too emotional." Ron and Gerald both said, "I'll get back to you." Richard, whose background includes residential schools, has only one word for that experience: "Unspeakable."

Then you get people like Marty. "Great idea," he said. "It'll help clear away some preconceived notions people have about this area." Exactly.

And Kris is eager to get others to do it. He found that, in telling his story -- which he has been doing for Megaphone Magazine -- he's managed to deal with the issues he grew up with and find a way to move forward. He also discovered a talent for writing that he never knew he had. So as more people tell their stories for the camera, I'll let you know when they're posted.

***

"They thought I was dead."

Mike re-surfaced this morning. He is one of many "Mike"s in the area, and the last time I saw him, he was dreadfully sick from alcohol abuse. He had been hoping to get into a recovery program, and part of our prayer that day was for that to happen. Clearly, he was sick of being sick. He was also terrified that he was past the point of no return and was going to die soon.

That was seven months ago. Today, he walked into The Lord's Rain: he was clear-eyed and quiet and one could sense he was different. He had managed to get into recovery, although I didn't ask what program. But apparently none of his friends in the area knew he had gone, so when they didn't see him for a while, they filed a Missing Person report.

"Shows they care about you," I said. "AND ... it shows you stuck with the program."

"Yep," he said. "I'm clean now. My color is back ... I was SO sick, man!"

I reminded him that he'd always have support with us. I hope he realizes that with us, and his friends he apparently didn't know he had, he's not alone in his struggle. Please keep Mike in prayer: he's won a key battle, but the enemy doesn't go away quietly.

***

*OK ... I made that part up ...

Harold and Vicky; and good news for Maggie

Bart shook his head. “A man drink like you do,” he said, “he gone die!”

The Kid thought about that for a moment, then said, “When?”

-- from “Blazing Saddles”, 1974 (slightly novelized version)

“He’s been drinkin’ rub,” Sheila said, “and some o’ that!” she added, pointing to an empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

I passed the information on to the ambulance dispatcher. It was Friday morning, and Bruce (who can be seen on our video presentation about The Lord’s Rain) had come into the ministry to get me to call 9-1-1. “Someone’s havin’ a seizure,” he said.

“Rub” is rubbing alcohol, which is usually watered-down or mixed with Listerine, but Sheila insisted that Ashley had been drinking his straight. Ashley was lying on one of the benches, twitching slightly on his left side. He was breathing normally, a fact confirmed when the dispatcher had me watch him and say “now” whenever he took a breath. But the ambulance was on its way and got there in a couple of minutes.

Before they got there, Ashley came to and managed to sit up. “I’m epileptic,” he told me, and a couple of the others said, “he’s OK – he doesn’t need an ambulance.” But Sheila laid down the law. “They need to check him out,” she declared.

It turned out that one of the paramedics knew the patient. “Have another seizure, Ashley?” Ashley nodded. “Want to go to the hospital and get checked out?” “Yeah, I wanna go,” Ashley replied. They walked him to the ambulance and helped him in. As we watched him, Sheila pointed with her foot to the bottle of Jack, almost in wonder at the amount Ashley had put away.

Again, I marvelled at the compassion shown by the paramedics. Not only did one of them know Ashley’s name, but also remembered that he had a broken collarbone, which had not been repaired – probably for the same reason Jim Ritchie hadn’t had surgery to repair his collarbone: too much risk that he would fall, break it again, and get infected.

On Saturday, I strolled over to Pigeon Park again, and there was Ashley, sitting on the same bench, slugging back something from a bottle. I asked him what happened at the hospital. He didn’t really know. “That was Thursday,” he said.

“Friday.”

“No – Thursday. I woke up at home this morning.”

 Nothing I could say would shift him from that belief. Apparently, he’d lost a day due to the stroke.

“Hey – I’m alive,” he said, smiling and taking a pull on a bottle of something dark and strong-looking.

A couple of the others at the park came over and chatted and one, whom I’d never seen before, said, “thank you for praying for us.”

What can one say, besides “you’re welcome”?

I’ve said before: The Lord’s Rain has been serving basic human needs beyond the need to be physically clean. People anywhere – especially in a place like the Downtown East Side – have a basic need to know that they’re in right standing with God. Being prayed for goes a long way to that end.

Anyone can do that, too – although it’s important to offer the prayers in the hope-against-hope that knowing how much God loves them will gradually provide greater comfort than rubbing alcohol, Jack Daniels and whatever Ashley had in that bottle.

===

The word “gradually” is important. My friend, Cal Weber, who leads Campus Ministry at the BCIT (BC Institute of Technology), once noted that water, flowing over a rock, has the same impact as a sledgehammer; it just takes longer. But when the job is done, the rock is completely worn away, without the big chunks a sledgehammer leaves behind. So it is with Ministry.

===

It is six weeks, now, since Vicky, one of our regulars, came into The Lord’s Rain. She bypassed the coffee line, looked at John, Danilo and me and burst into tears. “Harold died this morning,” she said.

Harold was her male companion (for want of a better term: they weren’t married, and “boyfriend” sounds trivial, especially under the circumstances), and she had woken up that morning to find he had passed away in the bed beside her.

On Friday, Vicky was back at The Lord’s Rain, still grieving, carrying with her the little leaflet from the memorial service. She poured her heart out to John, which was actually a good choice, as he had had a similar experience – waking up one morning to find his roommate dead on the kitchen floor – and he is known to people in the area as an excellent listener.

---

How about a little good news?

I have mentioned Maggie before, although I’ve only seen her in The Lord’s Rain once. A very small woman, somewhere between age 45 and 60, she gets around by pushing a wheelchair (although she recently got a walker, which is easier to handle). For the past couple of years, she’s had a little camp in a doorway on Cordova Street, just around the corner from The Lord’s Rain. Last year, the space was renovated into a restaurant and delicatessen, but the proprietors let Maggie stay in the doorway, which isn’t being used, anyway. A gate was installed and Maggie was given the key. Little by little, her camp has grown, with pillows, a sleeping bag and books, and people drop off food for her, or she goes out to find a meal from one of the outreaches.

On Friday, she called me over. “I’m moving into my new place in December,” she announced.

It turns out, she’s had a room at a single-room-occupancy (SRO) hotel called the Marble Arch, which is just outside the DTES. “I’ve been payin’ rent there,” she said, “but I refused to go back until they fixed the place up. It was declared number-one-worst place in the city.”

But now, it appears, the renovations have been done. “I got new furniture and a kitchen with a microwave that works!” It appears that she’d been paying rent for her room at Marble Arch, which held it for her in the mean time. Disabled and ravaged by drug abuse (it’s hard to say which followed the other ) and occasionally subjected to verbal abuse, like the guy who yelled at her, “you brought it on yourself!”, as he blew her off, Maggie is about due for a break.

===

(Do you remember a song from the 1980s, called “The Way It Is,” by Bruce Hornsby and The Range? The opening verse describes a homeless guy begging on the street, and someone drives by in a car shouting, “get a job!” We all nodded sagely and opined how awful that was and how true and but it must be someone else who had such a stinking attitude. To borrow Walt Kelly’s overused line, we have met the enemy, and he is us.)

===

An article in today’s Vancouver Sun makes interesting reading. It’s on a national study that’s just been released on housing for the mentally ill, and suggests mentally ill people tend to “do better” living in self-contained apartments scattered around the city, rather than in SROs concentrated in a particular area. They benefit, the study suggests, from being around healthier people and socializing more. Interestingly, the NIMBY factor among people already living in these neighbourhoods is not as pervasive as some might have thought.

It reminds me of a remark our friend Marty made a few months ago. “It’s too easy [on the DTES]. I can call a dealer any time, then take two steps outside my door and meet him.” Others consider “getting the heck outta Dodge” to be a main goal in life. The important thing is to impart sufficient hope to them that they will, like Maggie, see that a breakthrough is not just desirable, it’s possible.

"You're Good People!"

I noticed the boy first. Clean-cut, good-looking, he politely, almost shyly, asked where he could hand in a pair of dirty socks and get a clean pair. He motioned towards the sign, “Vancouver Sock Exchange”.

I found a pair in one of our bins. They were clean, but didn’t match.

“That’s OK,” he said. “They’ll usually be covered by my shoes, anyway.”

“If anyone asks, tell them you’ve got another pair, just like them.” I’m such a wit.

Then I noticed the girl. Beautiful, and together, they could have been that quiet, sweet couple who got together in high school and never split up.

Danilo nudged me. “Teenagers?” he said. “Must be,” I replied.

They each had a large suitcase with a bedroll and spent their time organizing their things. I think they had showers. The boy told me later that they had spent the night at Triage, an emergency shelter. I’ve had very little dealings with Triage, but what I’ve seen is a kind, compassionate staff that goes above and beyond to try to give people a dry alternative to spending the night on the street. I remember carrying one drugged-out girl into the building and the staff arranging a couple of comfy chairs and finding a blanket for her because they had no beds available. The sense I get is that they will do anything in their power to keep from turning someone away.

“We need to get back to Alert Bay,” the boy said. “I came down here for treatment and now we’re waiting for Harbour Light to open to see if they can help us with the ticket back.” He went out around 9, and the girl stayed behind with the luggage. By 10 o’clock closing time, he hadn’t come back, so she got up to leave.

“You’ve probably noticed that you’ve stumbled into a church,” I said as we stepped outside the door. “Do you mind if I pray over you?”

“No. Please.”

It was brief: for protection, a safe trip home, health ... she smiled, “thanks. You guys are good people!”

I hope and pray that we don’t see them again.

The Lord’s Rain serves so many people in so many different ways: longtime residents of the Downtown East Side who find a community place where they can be themselves; people who see their stay on the DTES as a temporary stop while they get a foothold on life; people in need of a place to come when they are literally “just passing through”. I don’t know what the boy was getting treatment for, but if it was some kind of addiction, perhaps the experience of coming into The Lord’s Rain and meeting what his girlfriend called “good people”, can help provide the hope that fills the void.

+++

You Can Observe A Lot Just By Watching dep’t

Turnaround in one’s life doesn’t necessarily relate to financial or social circumstances. The first and most lasting sign of turnaround appears to be in one’s attitude, particularly when it comes to “owning” the issues and events in their lives. Simply put, those who own their issues, who admit that they messed up and bear responsibility for the setbacks (and I don’t mean saying, “I wrong to trust those people!”), are more likely to turn around. Those, whose problems are always the fault of someone else, are not. You see the effects of the attitudinal change in different ways, but the bottom line is, they’re a whole lot more pleasant to have around. It’s wonderful to watch.

+++

got jobs?

There are a couple of guys I know at the Mission who are in need of work. Due to age and certain infirmities, they’re somewhat limited in the amount they can lift and so forth, but they’re smart and, I believe, reliable. That’s the best recommendation I can give them, but I’m passing along a desire for some leads for them for part-time or casual work in the Vancouver area. If you think you can help, please reply to this email and I’ll help make the connection.

+++

Scripture

A verse in Jeremiah is one of many that sum up the importance, in God’s eyes, of serving the poor. The message is given to one of the sons of Josiah, king of Judah; the son has been solely concerned with the finery of being a prince. God tells him, through the prophet (Jer. 22:15),

“Did not your father eat and drink and do justice and righteousness? Then it was well with him. (16) He judged the cause of the poor and needy; then it was well. Was not this knowing Me?”

That really needs no further interpretation. 

InSite and a more positive response

This is a mea culpa, of sorts -- a repentance for allowing the Good News of Jesus Christ, which Gospel Mission has been promoting for nearly 85 years, to get clouded with a political matter.

The CBC is running a feature today on the tenth anniversary of InSite, the supervised drug-injection facility in Vancouver. Initially, it was located in 327 Carrall Street, on the ground floor of the building that has housed Gospel Mission since the 1940s. That same site is now The Lord's Rain; I would call that a case of God redeeming an entire building -- bravo for the ironies He sends us! 

A CBC reporter called us a couple of weeks ago, asking if she could interview one of the proponents of InSite at The Lord’s Rain -- going “back to where it all began”, as it were. But we turned her down, and in the process gave her an earful about our opposition to the facility and its concept. Certainly, we've made no secret of our feelings about the facility.

She called me yesterday, asking for our statement on the opposition to it. Barry, Janet and I had come up with an agreed-on message: that we see no good in InSite and that the money spent on the facility would have been better spent on recovery programs and detox facilities. That's the message I delivered to her.

But on reflection, I realize that I missed an opportunity to say not what we’re against, but what we are for. 

(I have to be careful here, lest I appear to be throwing Barry and Janet under the bus: I did help craft the message and none of us raised this point at the time; but, while I can't speak for them, I believe that, if any of us had raised it, we would have agreed on it.)

So for the record, what are we for?

•          We are for lives turning around
•          We are for second chances
•          We are for healing (not just reducing harm but eliminating it)
•          We are for hope
•          We are for Christ, because it’s in Him – and only Him – that all these things can be achieved.

Anything that doesn’t provide for that is in opposition.  (There’s no shortage of things to be against these days: Jesus gives us a focus on something to be for.)

There are many things that cannot be fixed quickly and can’t be fixed at all, using human strength, but with Jesus, anything is possible. Jesus is the one-size-fits-all solution because He is exactly what every one of us needs to address our unique situation. Whether it’s drug addiction, mental illness, poverty, bad decisions leading to bad situations; even a general emptiness in life – the feeling that something is missing – He is the only Way.

Our job is to promote that message: a positive message – not the negative one of what we’re against.

The Lord’s Rain has accomplished a lot because of that positive message and God’s Will for people to know His Son and be healed of all things.

And that's what we're for.

Janet's Victory

“What is this place?” the new woman asked.

“It’s The Lord’s Rain,” Janet explained. “We provide showers for people who need them; we also have coffee if you want some.”

“Hmm,” the new woman said. “Can I have a shower?”

“Sure!”

“Hold on: I’ll be right back.”

The new woman left, and Janet thought, “maybe she will – maybe she won’t,” and got on with the task of overseeing Ladies’ Day on Monday.

But the new woman did come back. “I gave her the soap and shampoo,” Janet said later, “and two towels, because she has long hair and I know what it’s like, having long hair.”

It is now a year since Janet Klassen stepped into the role of Assistant Pastor at Gospel Mission and overseer of The Lord’s Rain. The experience has been yet another “W” in a string of personal victories in her life, dealing with many of the same issues that afflict people on the Downtown East Side; applying her own experiences to helping others through theirs.

For the record, Janet can be found at 327/331 Carrall Street:

•          Monday mornings for Ladies’ Day at The Lord’s Rain
•          Monday evenings for Movie Night at Gospel Mission
•          Wednesday mornings for The Lord’s Rain
•          Wednesday night for the weekly prayer meeting at Gospel Mission (for which she bakes goodies for snack time)
•          Thursday morning at The Lord’s Rain
•          Every other Friday night to teach Bible Study at Gospel Mission
•          Sunday afternoon for the service at Gospel Mission
•          Sunday night for The Rock Church (which meets at Gospel Mission)

Hmm ... she doesn’t seem to have anything happening on Tuesdays or Saturdays. We’ll have to see about that.

Janet grew up in the church, beginning with an Anglican Church in Mission, where she was teaching Sunday school by age 15. “Our mother told us (she has two older sisters) that we each had to do something in the church,” she says. When her parents moved to a Full Gospel church, Janet stayed with the Anglican Church, as she wasn’t comfortable in a Pentecostal setting. But it was at the Full Gospel church that her parents met Barry Babcook, and Barry and Janet’s father wound up working together at Samaritan Inn, a recovery house for addicts. Janet met a young man at Samaritan Inn, and they started going together, coming into Vancouver for Sunday services at Gospel Mission, and that began the connection that remains to this day – 14 years later. In 2002, she started Movie Night, showing a Christian-themed movie – anything from blockbusters like “Jesus of Nazareth” or “The Passion of the Christ” to non-theatrical releases about the lives of the Apostles.

But all that time, Janet battled severe emotional issues. They landed her in Riverview Mental Institution for a year in 2000 and led to numerous hospital stays and suicide attempts over the years. It reached a point where her father took her to Barry and said, “Here – you do something with her.” That set Janet on the path that has led her to where she is now.

She is able to talk about it, because each attempt on her own life was headed off by a miraculous move of God. There was the Tylenol incident, for example.

“I was in a parking lot, and grabbed a handful of Tylenol and started gulping them down,” she says. “Just then, my psychiatrist came along, saw me, and hauled me away.” The parking lot was five blocks away from the shrink’s office and the doctor “just happened” to decide to go for a walk at that time.

Janet recalls, “I said to her, ‘what made you come here?’ ‘God,’ she said.”

On another occasion, Janet started to slip into an “episode” during one of our Bible studies at the Mission. She went into Barry’s office. Barry had recognized the signs and went in after her. He came out a moment later and said to me, “go find a cop. We need to get her committed and the police can do it right away.”

I went outside. The Downtown East Side is certainly not without police presence, but there are times when, as the old saying goes, you can’t find a cop when you need one. This was not one of those times. I took two steps away and ran into two officers who had just confiscated a Samurai sword from one of the drug dealers.

I explained the situation and the pair – a man and a woman – came upstairs. They went into Barry’s office to try to talk to her. Then the man came out and motioned to Barry and me to come into the kitchen. “I was a youth pastor,” he said, “and from my experience, I’d say this was possession.” Barry and I looked at each other: of all the cops to come into the Mission, we got the one that understood the situation.

The policeman went back into the office and talked to Janet in Christian terms, and a short time later, they led her out.

And then there was the Granville Bridge incident. Janet had been sent to Vancouver General Hospital in another episode, and actually climbed onto the railing at mid-span. She let go. But a policewoman was on the scene and grabbed her. “Oh, no, you don’t!” she said as she hauled Janet back.

“You will die when God says it’s time for you to die,” Barry told her later.

“I’ve learned that the big problem I’ve had,” Janet says, “is abandonment issues. If I think I’m being left alone, I freak. And you see, that’s what so many people on the Downtown East Side experience. They’ve been left alone, and we try to show them that they’re not alone.

“The Lord’s Rain is so different from Gospel Mission. You get fewer Christians coming in, for one thing: you get hard people from the Street, people from all walks of life who need help – not from preaching, but people who just need coffee and a hug and some love. In a way, they’re easier to reach than people at the Mission. People at the Mission have heard it all before. People at The Lord’s Rain are often surprised by the love.”

Teaching Bible study has been an eye-opener for Janet. “We’re currently studying James,” she says, “which has been a real challenge for us.” Her Bible studies are interactive – she works from resource materials from Max Lucado’s Ministry and invites questions and comments all through the teaching. About 15 people come to the lessons.

“[The questions] are very intelligent: We were talking about ‘taming the tongue’ (James 3:1-10), and Marty said, ‘what about when you don’t say something that you should?’ So that got me thinking and now I’m challenged to speak up when I might not otherwise. Jesus spoke up when He was on the earth: I need to do the same.” She reflected, and added, “They teach me more than I teach them.”

Janet has been the one to “get through” to some people that others cannot. Gary, for example, spends much of his time mumbling to himself and when he does reach out into the world of the Rest Of Us, the sentences are disjointed and filled with images of violence, mob hits and conspiracies. Somehow, Janet is the one person who is able to communicate with Gary. In the same way, she was close to Barry Smith, whom I wrote about last year when he passed away, and was listed as “next of kin” on the hospital documents.

Much of her own victory – she hasn’t been in hospital since last November – has come as she’s moved into her role as Assistant Pastor and taken on the management of The Lord’s Rain. “Taking on more responsibility and thinking of others rather than myself has been the best thing,” she says. The confidence and self-assuredness she’s gained is propelling her towards a new chapter, training -- through the Vancouver Coastal Health Authority -- as a Peer Support Worker. That training, plus the dedication, love and light of Christ she carries wherever she goes, will bless more and more people in ways we could never imagine.

The Apostle Paul writes (2 Corinthians 2:14) “Now thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and through us diffuses the fragrance of His knowledge in every place.”

Yep – that’d be Janet, alright.