Another farewell to a friend ...

He was a frequent sight on the Downtown East Side. Very short grey hair, a pot belly, shambling walk, usually two or three days' stubble; and invariably wearing some article of clothing that proclaimed, "JESUS IS LORD". Usually, the clothing in question was a yellow puffy vest, with a large Cross drawn on the back in felt marker. Sometimes, it would be a sweatshirt or a ball cap, but the message, if you thought long enough about it, was unwavering: "no matter what I look like to you, Jesus is what it's all about". Barry Babcook, our senior pastor, has been at Gospel Mission for 17 years and Clifford "Barry" Smith had been there since long before that.
 

Barry Smith died last Friday. He had a number of health issues, but his heart got to him first: suffered a heart attack a couple of weeks ago and drifted in and out of consciousness at St Paul's Hospital until late Friday night, when God said, "come on home".
 

The fact that he loved the Lord, loved to worship and share his faith was unmistakable. I remember he would often be the only one in the congregation who would stand during Worship time at our Saturday night services, sometimes just raising his arms with his eyes closed; other times mouthing the words.
 

He could be seen around Oppenheimer Park, praying for people specifically or in general, or for the area as a whole. He was one of those guys who could cite book, chapter, and verse of the Bible, which frustrated the heck out of me, since there are times when I think I have to look up Genesis 1:1. He would get into, shall we say, lively discussions of Scripture, either in the weekly Bible studies or sitting around the table in The Lord's Rain, going over some interpretation with Ross or old Joe Trepanier, none of whom was likely to give an inch when it came to their interpretation.
 

He was something of an enigma: cranky at times -- perfectly understandable, given his health issues -- other times, coming out with an out-of-left-field compliment or a bright word and a laugh. He was a loner and had no family that we knew of -- a fact that was driven home when Janet had to put herself on the hospital documents as "next of kin" -- and when you get down to it, the people in the missions on the DTES were his family, fractious and fluid as that might be at times.
 

He'll be missed a lot. He was someone who was just... there. And now he's not. But this I'm sure of: that like the beggar Lazarus, he's now in Abraham's arms; the sickness is gone, the pain and loneliness are over, and he's doing what he's always loved to do: praise the Lord.

 

Unity Happens

Those of you who've been following the saga of The Lord's Rain from its beginnings, almost 5 years ago, may recall that in the earliest days of the project -- when we were armed with a great idea but no money -- we approached a wealthy Christian businessman to see if he would underwrite the whole project. A slam dunk, we figured: I wrote a smasher of a letter and fired it off (snailmail, of course, to show we were serious) and waited for the invitation to lunch, where, probably between the main course and dessert, said wealthy Christian businessman would say, "oh -- before I forget," reach into the inside pocket of his suit coat and discreetly hand over a ridiculously large check.

Instead, I got a phone call from the businessman's personal assistant, who told me with not much room to manoeuvre that the answer was "no".

"Our board gave it prayerful consideration," she said, "but decided this was not something they could support. One of the things that really concerns the board," she went on, "is the lack of unity among ministries on the Downtown East Side. There doesn't seem to be much cohesiveness. It would be great if you and others ministering there could pull together and come up with a coherent game plan to attack the situation there."

I mumbled something that sounded like agreement and thanked her for considering the proposal.

Unity. On the surface, it's a noble sentiment, and when you have so many different groups with different approaches, it's easy to decry a lack of unity and withhold any support until "everyone gets together".

But on the DTES, there are so many issues that need to be addressed, it seems that the best way to achieve unity is to stick to your own knitting and stay out of everybody else's way. Remember the exchange between Peter and Jesus in John 21: "Lord, what about this man (John)?" Jesus said to him, "If I will that he remain till I come, what is that to you? You follow Me." -- [John 21:21-22].  You could get so hung up on unity that you lose sight of the real goal.

Now it's worth pointing out that getting turned down by this fellow's company was one of the best things that could have happened and I do believe that the Board had prayed about it and was led by the Holy Spirit in its decision. It reminded us that this was God's project and He -- not we -- would determine how it was going to be built and how it was to be funded, and it certainly was not to be by one person. As things unfolded over the next few months, it became evident that this was God's project and He -- not we -- would determine how it was going to be built and funded. A lot of different people with different gifts stepped up to do their part, contributing towards a common goal.

Unity -- God's version. Truly, His ways are not our ways.

If the construction of The Lord's Rain is Exhibit A of His version of unity, Exhibit B is Kris. Kris comes in very early most mornings -- often before 7 -- to shower and shave (including his head) and get off to his job hawking The Megaphone. The Megaphone is a periodical published by, for and about the people on the DTES. The stories are human-interest and a good way to get a feel for the vibe of the place, although the approach tends to be activist-oriented, which, as I've said before, I personally don't agree with. But it gives the area a voice -- and it gives people like Kris a job and a chance to mingle with the rest of the people of the city.

 

The photo here shows a recent high point for Kris, throwing out the first ball at a Vancouver Canadians baseball game. (My BlackBerry doesn't have a zoom lens, so take my word for it -- that's Kris on the mound at Nat Bailey Stadium.) Kris got this honour by winning a contest among Megaphone sellers, to come up with a slogan for the paper. He won with "Often Imitated, Never Duplicated".

I daresay I was a little disappointed that they didn't announce why Kris got to throw out the first pitch. There were a couple of little boys who also got to throw first pitches - one was celebrating his birthday and I'm not sure why the other was there. I'd have thought maybe a one-liner about, "now throwing out the first pitch - representing 'The Megaphone', the voice of the Downtown East Side ... Kris Cronk!", might have been in order. That's just the PA announcer in me -- I didn't hear Kris complain, so it's all good.

Kris represents a connection with another organization -- an opportunity to get to know and understand what they're doing and through that, achieving a form of unity towards a common goal -- if not a common approach. Someone connected with The Megaphone is now connected with The Lord's Rain.

Exhibit C is Buzzard. He has a real name, but he introduces himself as Buzzard -- or Buzz. Buzz writes the newsletter for Mission: Possible, another Christian ministry on the DTES. I have to confess, I know absolutely nothing about Mission: Possible -- aside from the name and the fact that a lot of people speak highly of it. He's started coming to the Saturday night services at Gospel Mission and now another connection is starting to form. Where it goes from here, only God knows.

The moral of the story: "unity" is not something you can impose on a situation. It happens, given time; and we're gradually seeing it come together on the DTES.

===
People to pray for ... Cheryl is a 40-something woman who's been coming into The Lord's Rain for quite a few years. She's sometimes quite "with it", and sometimes incoherent from the drugs; something of a loner, often with a very blank expression on her face. Last week, Amelia and I spotted her on Robson Street -- a fair distance from the DTES -- and we said hi. She had that blank expression. "I'm going swimming," she said. "In the ocean." Then she became animated and clasped her hands together. "PLEASE pray for me!" And she walked off. That was almost a week ago and we haven't seen her since. (I contacted a couple of friends at the Coroner's Service and Vancouver Police: they haven't pulled any bodies out of the water lately.) In a previous email, I mentioned how hard it is to get information about people on the DTES in a timely fashion, so I have no idea whom to ask. This is one of those cases where one has to call on the Lord to protect someone.

I've mentioned Jamie before -- a man who's had a remarkable turnaround from being homeless, an alcoholic and picking bottles out of dumpsters. Now he has a job, a place in Burnaby -- far away from the DTES -- and a woman he loves; but he's going through one of those "wilderness" periods, when it seems God has taken the training wheels off one's life and things can be a bit wobbly while you find your balance. He's even told me that he wants to go back to the days of being a "binner", with his old drinking buddies. Kind of like the Israelites, wanting to go back to Egypt, rather than wander with Moses towards the Promised Land. ("What? You mean this New Life thing is not all jam and smooth sailing forevermore?") At least he's calling and talking about it. If the phone calls stop coming, then I'll really be worried.

===

The Lord's Rain is approaching another milestone, which I expect we'll hit this month (if not this week). It will be shower #3000, thanks largely to the fact that we're now open 6 mornings a week. That's only been in the past few months, but the number of showers (I think I mentioned, we use the Cro-Magnon Accounting System to keep track) has increased dramatically, not just from being open more often but from more people hearing about it. Thank you, as always, for your support -- in the myriad ways you support this.

And there, friends, is Exhibit D.

Dear Tina, Wish you were here.

A scene like this was often played out over the past few years near Gospel Mission.

I'm on one side of Hastings Street, about to cross. A voice calls from the other side.

"Hiya, handsome!"

I do an exaggerated about-face, looking to see whom she's talking to. We cross the street and give each other a big hug right in the middle of the crosswalk. "You're lookin' great!" she says. "So are you, m'dear!" I reply, and we both go off on our ways.

Her name was Tina. Five-foot-nothing, mid-forties, face puffed out by years of drinking the East Side Martini -- Listerine with rubbing alcohol, either separately or mixed (proportions vary according to availability and whatever-gets-you-through-the-day) -- but usually a big smile and a lightly-teasing greeting. One of those people you were always happy to see.

She hung out in Pigeon Park and often came to The Lord's Rain. She rarely came to the Mission upstairs -- at least, not on my night -- but a couple of weeks ago, she and her "boyfriend", Johnny, did come, and if you listen to Amelia's talk about the visit from the Governor-General's Leadership Tour, you'll hear Tina's voice at one point saying, "the Lord works in mysterious ways".

Tina died on Tuesday.

That was it.

Pfft.

Gone.

I found out about it Wednesday morning from one of the fellows who recently started coming to The Lord's Rain. "I lost another of my friends yesterday," he said. Then he started describing her and the realization set in that this wonderful, vibrant person was gone.

Frank said it was likely kidney failure, brought on by those cocktails. He said Johnny had been getting increasingly angry with Tina about her drinking. Johnny is white, 50-something, and a professing Christian. Like Tina, one is always glad to see him.

So apparently, she was just sitting on one of the benches in Pigeon Park and passed out -- for good.

The locals had set up a memorial to her on that bench. Unlike the impromptu roadside memorials that spring up when someone is killed in a crash, with flowers and a cross and maybe a photo, this one has an interesting array of Things To Remember Her By. Bottles, an Edmonton Oilers beach towel, a cookbook, a sheaf of condoms (I'm not kidding), lit candles; there's also a school exercise book and a pen for people to write remembrances. Someone found a photo of Tina in younger days (top left of the picture) that resembles the Tina I knew not in the least (albeit enough that I could say, "so that's what she looked like 20 years ago"). In one way or another, those items meant something to someone in their own relationship with Tina; just as Tina meant something to each of them in their own way.

I hope in some way she knew how much she'd be missed.

It strikes me that part of the "hope" message we try to instill in people is the knowledge that they would be missed if something should happen to them. I think I know what my theme will be for Saturday night's sermon.

I'm reminded very much of Jesus' parable about Lazarus the beggar, who died and was gathered into the arms of Abraham (Luke 16). To others passing through the DTES en route to someplace else, she would have been just another drunk Injun; but there's no doubt in this mind where Tina is now.

===
That's a concept that's difficult for a lot to understand: the idea that you can be accepted by God and still not be acceptable to man. Some years ago, I wanted to share with a minister from Saskatchewan about Rusty, a brother who came to the Mission faithfully, hauling his bent body up the stairs despite having severe curvature of the spine, and shouting "praise the Lord!" with hardly any provocation. (He is still memorialized in our way of singing an old standard "I Been Redeemed By the Blood o'the Lamb!", finishing it by shouting, "yee-hah!", as Rusty did back in the day.) Rusty was stabbed to death after getting verbally involved in a fight between another guy and a woman. I started to relate this to the minister, but when I described Rusty as someone who loved the Lord -- "usually drunk as a skunk, but he loved the Lord". "Well, he couldn't have loved the Lord if he was constantly drunk," the minister snapped.

All-RIGHTY, then! Let's just move on to another topic, shall we?

===

Next to the memorial, a loud discussion was underway on the next bench. One fellow was trying to get more details about Tina's death and another guy kept repeating "that's all I (DELETED) know! Stop (DELETED) asking me what happened! I (DELETED) told you what happened - she died! Right there! On that bench!"

"So what happened?"

The discussion was still going on as I left, with the one who didn't know anything more taking repeated slugs from a large bottle of Listerine. And on it goes.

===
The sad news about Tina overshadowed Richard Johnson's return. He's the fellow I mentioned previously, who spent several weeks in hospital with a serious infection in his spine. He got the expected one-man standing ovation from John Sharp, who tends to take his role as Good Humor Man to wild extremes, and it was some exceptionally good news on a day when we really needed some.

Another element of serving on the Downtown East Side is the communications system. In this day of texting and tweeting, the primary way of finding out about someone on the DTES is still the tried-and-true moccasin telegraph. That may seem like a term with racial overtones, but it's the best description I've seen. It was given traction -- if not actually coined -- by Paul St Pierre, who wrote wonderful short stories about the people in the Chilcotin region, half of whom (at least, in Paul's stories) are white and the other half Indian (Paul wrote the stories in the 50s and 60s, when "Indian" was still an acceptable term)*. It refers to news passing from person to person, at the speed of whenever someone thinks to pass it on. It's also not limited to a particular ethnic group. On the DTES, there's really no other way of keeping tabs on people: they'll show up ... or not ... and if there's an issue, they might mention it to someone who might tell someone else ... you get the picture.

Not the easiest way to minister to people, I can tell you. This was how, for example, it took a week and a half for me to find out that Richard was in hospital: someone thought to mention it to me. Finding out about Tina was also "moccasin telegraph" stuff. I had said hi to Frank, and we exchanged information about our own personal conditions, and then he dropped the news on me. And he didn't even know I knew her.

Similarly, there's the story Amelia recounted about the woman on the Leadership tour who met someone from her reserve in Saskatchewan and everyone had been "wondering about him". Apparently, God plays a role in the moccasin telegraph, putting the right people in the right place at the right time.

Health care, timing and a room full of Higgs bosons

I'm constantly amazed at the good that one finds on the Downtown East Side.

That shouldn't be a surprise to you, I suppose, since we do talk a lot about the positive things we see in that part of town; but I still marvel.

Case in point: Wednesday morning, a woman came in in very bad shape. She was drunk, she was feeling ill, she wanted someone to call an ambulance to take her to hospital. And she was pregnant. Rhonda is her name. I had been upstairs, making sandwiches, and Danilo pointed her out to me. She was leaning against one of the pillars outside. I went out to talk to her and pray over her until the ambulance arrived. It didn't take long.

The paramedic came out to get her. "I'm the ambulance guy," he said. "Do you need to go to the hospital?" Rhonda nodded. "I'm drunk and I'm pregnant," she said, "and I'm sick." She climbed into the ambulance on her own. "Anything else to add?" the "ambulance guy" asked us. Danilo shook his head. "She says she's missing her son," I added. "You mean she can't find him or she's just lonely?" The assumption was that this was a child who had been taken from her by Social Services. "How old is he?" the ambulance guy asked her. "26." "Oh. Lonely, then."

Lonely, in a city of over 2 million.

As the Psalms say, "selah". (Pause and think about it.)

The ambulance guy talked to Rhonda quietly and with immense kindness. She would likely be taken to St Paul's Hospital, which is the nearest facility to the DTES. Since it's also in the West End, where I live, I've found myself in the emergency ward a few times, too, and have seen their dealings with "street people". They'll treat patients who are drunk or drug-sick, but let them know, in varying degrees of severity, that they can't expect to get treatment when they keep doing it to themselves. Rhonda will likely get a stern rebuke from the nursing staff -- but she'll still get treatment.

I was reminded of Lesley, a woman who was having a "drug episode" just over a year ago and we needed to call an ambulance for her. By the time it arrived, though, she had second thoughts about going and the ambulance guy and I had to convince her to get aboard. I said to the paramedic as he was about to leave, "I'd hate to think what would happen if someone had a heart attack or there was a bad traffic accident or something." "If there was," he said, "another car would handle it. This is what we do."

(Don't misunderstand: I've often seen the tough-guy side of paramedics, like the time they refused to transport a fellow who was smashed and rude and abusive inside one of the local "pharmacies" (basically a methadone dispensary). That would be the incident that gets reported to DTES "activists" as an example of the harsh treatment locals get from The Man. The dozens of times each day they go to help someone, regardless of the cause or circumstance, often go unreported.)

Almost overlooked in this is the fact that The Lord's Rain was one door that was open at a time when she needed it -- and other places might not have been open for business. Again, right place - right time.

===
Richard, one of our favorites, is currently in St Paul's. He had been walking home when he started to feel weak and get a deep pain in his back. So he sat down on a bench until the pain went away and then he got up again. But he felt dizzy and sat down on the sidewalk. A friend from the same SRO (single-room occupancy) came by, saw him and called an ambulance.

Turned out, Richard had some sort of infection that had gotten into his vertebrae. He's been in the hospital for the past three weeks now (I only learned about it two weeks ago -- communication can be one of the hardest things on the Downtown East Side: people can go for weeks without being seen and then turn up as if nothing had happened; sometimes, they like it that way), receiving antibiotics and getting his strength back (he's in his mid-60s). He's also bored out of his tree and spends a lot of time reading sci-fi and westerns.

And Richard is getting good care, which is a real blessing. But it occurred to me, what if he had had to pay for his health care, or if he even balked at going to hospital because he might not be able to afford it? His is certainly not a case where he "brought it on himself". I'm gratified for a health-care system that wouldn't turn people away for lack of funds. (It might be tempting for a Canadian to draw a comparison with the US system, but Reggie Stutzman -- former pastor at the Bowery Mission in New York and now heading-up Real Life Church in the Bronx -- tells me Richard likely wouldn't have been turned away in the States, either.)

===

So a Higgs boson walks into a Catholic church, and the priest says, "we don't allow your type in here". And the Higgs boson says to the priest, "but without me, you cannot have mass."
-- don't boo me, that wasn't my joke (Milton Berle)

As it has been in scientific circles, pool halls and executive suites at ballparks, I'm sure, the discovery of the Higgs boson -- the so-called "God particle", because it's supposedly the catalyst that creates matter (or something) -- was a topic of hot discussion at The Lord's Rain. The discussion went something like this:

ONE GUY -- Hey: didja see they discovered the God particle?
OTHER GUY -- Yeah! Hey - ya know what? You're a "God particle"!
FIRST GUY -- Yeah! And so are you!
OTHER GUY -- And so's he (me)! And so's she ... and him ...

Within about 3 minutes, it was declared that all of us in The Lord's Rain -- and everyone we'd meet outside -- was a "particle of God".

And we all went about our business.

Bravo for perspective.

It works two ways ...

In a recent post, I mentioned the visit by the Governor-General's Leadership Study Tour to Gospel Mission/The Lord's Rain earlier this month. This past Saturday, Amelia -- who co-chaired the BC portion of the tour -- told the gang at the Mission about something they may not have considered: the impact they had -- and will continue to have -- on the participants.

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.

.

Never pass up a chance to testify!

It's a rare blessing to be able to testify about God's provision and blessing on Gospel Mission and The Lord's Rain on a national stage, but we were able to do so this past week.

The Governor-General's Leadership Conference is a cross-country initiative to help develop leaders. They come from all walks of life -- business, labor, the arts, native groups, immigrants, you name it. It's a huge group to begin with, separated into groups that go to different regions, British Columbia being one of them. The group that came to the Mission is also visiting Prince George, Terrace, Vancouver Island and the Fraser Valley (not in that order), studying aboriginal affairs, the Enbridge pipeline, and Vancouver's Downtown East Side.

Their visit to Gospel Mission was actually their first chance to meet the people who live in the area, even though they had gone to InSite the day before -- but there, they were only allowed to speak to the staff and not those who use the "safe injection" location. For us, it was a chance to brag on God a little bit, pointing out the way He has positioned the Mission through history -- keeping it just ahead of the curve of needs in society. (The Mission was founded just before the Great Depression hit; it moved to bigger digs just before the end of World War 2 brought a lot of disabled ex-servicemen into Skid Row; The Lord's Rain was commanded (for want of a better word) just before the Global Economic Crisis caused people to rein in their charitable giving: as I told the group, it's one thing to say, "here's a problem - come up with the solution", but in the case of the Mission, God tends to say, "here's the solution - now, stand by for the problem".)

It was also a chance -- albeit a short one -- for people who come into the Mission to talk to the tour participants. Kim, for example, got to talk to a few of them and share a bit about his own testimony. I think I've mentioned Kim before: a man who used to come into Rainbow Mission half-cut, often arriving just as the sermon was ending and the food was about to be served. Eventually, he came to Christ, beat down his addictions and assorted other demons, and is now a very valued part of our ministry. He's preached at the Mission on occasion and also runs the video camera. When I asked him, a couple of weeks ago, to go downstairs to The Lord's Rain and sit with a disabled woman so she could take part in the service by watching it on TV in The Lord's Rain, he got very philosophical. "What happened," he said, "that the guy who used to wait and slip into Rainbow Mission between the 'amen' and 'pass the food' is now being sent to do 'security' for someone at a Mission?" Of course, we both know the answer.

We only had half an hour and some of the visitors said they wished it could have been 90 minutes. But the early feedback is very positive:

• a man who, among other things, had worked on the judicial review in Rwanda, spoke with one disabled aboriginal man, finding out about the apartment where he lives, and the fact that he does feel safe and cared-for
• a prison warden from Kingston (medium-security, not the famous maximum-security pen), felt "overwhelmed" at the kindness and welcoming spirit of the people she met at The Lord's Rain
• an aboriginal leader who found someone with a mutual friend back home: she'll be taking back word that this person is alright
• the vice-president of the Elementary Teachers of Toronto -- the teachers' union, who is also a Christian and said it was "wonderful" to see faith being acknowledged on this tour. This was the second day of the tour, and she told me there had already been a "lively discussion" about whether "religion [was] the cause of all the ills of the world." She also works with single parents through her church, a large West Indian church in TO.

In general, they came away with a view of the Downtown East Side that's decidedly different from the picture of crushing despair that is usually put forward, a picture that there is still hope and resiliency, regardless of the mistakes one has made and the ways one tries to patch them over. All of it was presented against the backdrop that, when all's said and done, God is present and in charge, blessing all with His indescribable Grace.