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.

School Days, the Fear Factor and How God Took Over 327 Carrall

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about Marty, a former schoolteacher who essentially "lost it all" to drugs and booze and has been battling his way back. He has not been able to regain his standing as a public school teacher, but he decided recently to train to teach English as a Second Language and made a marvellous arrangement, in which the housing society that oversees his apartment will front him the tuition cost.

The funding has now come through, and Marty is about to start his course, the first part of which is offered online through the University of Victoria. Over the past couple of days, Marty's talked about re-connecting with the discipline required to take the course -- especially when it's online, with no one hanging over your shoulder, hectoring you on -- and the fear.

"Drugs take away everything," Marty said today. "I mean everything -- including any shred of self-confidence. I've been clean for seven months now, but I still have these fears. Can I do it? Will I be up for the job?" He talked of a 12-step program he'd been on, and how "courage" was one of the key points. "Courage doesn't mean being fearless," he said, "it means facing your fears and dealing with them.

"When I messed-up with drugs and I had to meet the Superintendent (of schools), my (AA) sponsor went with me and we sat outside in his car and prayed about it. I went in, all prepared to get fired -- and walked out with substitute hours! Totally not what I expected! Then we went to my bank manager, because I'd been kiting cheques. Again, we said a prayer in the car and I walked in there -- I figured he was going to call the cops and I was prepared to go to jail. Instead, he gave me a $20-a-month repayment plan."

In the Bible, fear, I pointed out, also precedes a move of God. Anytime something really big is about to happen -- a voice from a burning bush, for example, or the announcement of the birth of the Messiah -- the humans who see it have to be told, "fear not". 

Marty has a lot of support in his corner as he seizes yet another second chance. He knows it. And it's starting to sound like he's believing in himself again, too.

===

Herbie is also about to answer the bell -- the school bell, that is -- and his fear is manifesting in a slightly different way. If you've seen the video presentation about The Lord's Rain, you'll see Herbie in the clips of the Volunteers. He's identified as Robert Lowe, which is his real name, but became known as "Herbie" when he jokingly used that name on a snooker scoresheet. Bad knees kiboshed his career as a plumber, leading to his arrival on the Downtown East Side, but he's pitched in on occasion, when something has gone awry with the plumbing around The Lord's Rain. About a year and a half ago, having gone from served to serving at The Lord's Rain, he determined to go into social work. He set about getting his high school diploma (he was a few credits short of graduation), then started applying for funding to take courses at Douglas College. The college accepted him, the funding came through, and he started last week.

His big fear was getting to the campus. His courses are located at the campus in Coquitlam, 20 miles from the Downtown East Side. He plans to move out there, but for the time-being, he's had to rely on public transit, which takes about an hour and 10 minutes by bus. So along with his preparations, he started in July, diligently studying the bus schedules (the TransLink website is wonderful for that) to determine what time the bus comes by Hastings and Carrall so he could get to the college by 8AM.

The guy is seriously pumped about going back to school and helping others.

He even dyed his hair.

===

There's a common factor to Herbie's and Marty's current experiences: the knowledge that God has given them another Second Chance. They're grabbing it and working it for all it's worth. Would that more of us their age could combine life experience, Herbie's and Marty's determination, and even a soupçon of the exuberance of today's Generation N (N-titled): truly, as GB Shaw said, youth is wasted on the young.

===

On the DTES, youth is just plain wasted. A new group of people has been arriving over the summer -- many of them, as I've said before, young girls newly arrived from someplace else, having been convinced their parents were "stifling them" and that the Big City would have much more opportunity for her.

And if you believe that, I have some watches you might want to see ...

Today, a new one turned up. I had been talking with Marty and turned around in time to see this stunningly beautiful, impeccably-dressed brunette pick up a coffee and start to leave. She was accompanied by a young man. He was the sort of chap that, if my daughter were to bring him home, I would go out and buy an assortment of guns, just to be able to spread them on the kitchen table and clean them elaborately, all the while telling the young man how much I loved my daughter and would be REALLY upset if she ever got hurt.

I digress.

"Too hot for down here," Justin -- a new volunteer -- remarked as they left.

Danilo laughed. "You both reacted - him [Justin] like a young man ... and you like a human." (I think he met "humanitarian" or "humane": sometimes, Danilo's English can be inadvertently comical.) There are myriad things one wants to do when seeing someone new on the scene, knowing what the "scene" does to young, vital, beautiful people in a very few years: you want to scream at her, show before-and-after pictures, hogtie her and throw her into a darkened van and rush her back home; but all one really can do is pray. Maybe even now, her dad is heading down to the area, to bring her home and work through whatever made her want to run away.

Danilo has seen more than a few before-and-after scenarios. "You know Maggie?" he said, referring to a prematurely aged woman who hobbles around, pushing a wheelchair and lives in a doorway on Cordova Street. "I remember she was like that [girl] -- pretty. Now look at her." 

(Maggie's Place is a disused doorway in a new restaurant at the corner of Cordova and Carrall. Unlike Pidgin, just across Carrall Street, it and another new, higher-end restaurant in the same building, have escaped the calumny and constant protesting of the DTES activists.)

As always, we need to lift up girls like this one -- and young men like the one she was in -- in prayer. Intercessory prayer can do great things when physical actions fall flat; and distance means nothing.

===

Bravo for Life's Ironies Dep't. -- 'You wanna know how drugs can wreck someone?" Marty asked me. "There's a guy I know. He was messed-up on crack, managed to beat the habit, get a job and move into a better apartment. And the place he moved into, has a strict no-drugs policy. But as he got more money, he started having 'friends' over - and they'd get high. So he got evicted and he's back on the street." 

I've also seen the gradual destruction of one of the most promising people I've ever met: Mike, who was part of an award-winning school choir, but whose life gradually spun downwards because of drugs. Articulate to the point of getting hung up in his own vocabulary while trying to make a point, he would often be the only one -- aside from Amelia and me -- singing during Praise and Worship at Gospel Mission. But much of the time when I see him now, he's spaced-out on drugs; compounding the tragedy is his unwavering support for InSite -- the supervised drug-injection facility on the Downtown East Side. Occasionally, he's worn a T-shirt with the legend, "InSite Saves Lives" -- an Orwellian lie if ever I've heard one: the people who use the facility are already dead -- their lives surrendered to drugs; any hope that would spur them to recover, stripped away by a society that has tacitly told them that they will always be drug addicts so we might as well make it "safe" to use them. It was also Mike who told me that, by not taking part in the mob scene at the courthouse a couple of years ago, to intimidate a judge to rule that InSite was a "necessary health service" and hence had to receive federal funding, he missed out on $35.00.

I bring this up not simply to rant again about my passionate opposition to InSite and the concept of "harm reduction": as a Christian, I know that Jesus is about harm elimination and healing -- not keeping people enslaved to addiction. But there's a connection between The Lord's Rain and InSite that we don't often talk about.

From its beginnings as a Klondike-era saloon, our little space at 327 Carrall Street has seen some dark times -- probably none darker than its brief stint, 10 years ago, as a supervised drug injection site -- the forerunner of InSite.

Perversely -- but almost predictably -- Canada's public broadcaster is preparing to celebrate the 10th anniversary of the "safe" injection site, and this week, a CBC Radio reporter called to ask if she could interview one of the proponents of InSite at The Lord's Rain, "to get an idea of what the place looked like."

I explained to her that The Lord's Rain looks nothing like it did during the injection-site days, nor in the time that followed until we took it over. I'm afraid the poor woman got quite an earful from both Barry and me -- Barry is even more passionate about this topic than I am -- and frankly, the metamorphosis of 327 Carrall would be a story, in and of itself. But I don't think that's her assignment.

The fact is, between the illegal shooting gallery and the "anti-poverty" (anarchist) groups which occupied the place, 327 Carrall has seen some pretty dark scenes. Barry constantly prayed for Godliness to come over the space and its tenants, and in bringing The Lord's Rain to pass, God has certainly answered that prayer. From being a focal point for despair, rebellion and lawlessness, that space has become a reflection of light and love and a source of hope in Christ. Like anything that has gone through repentance and renewal, the occupation by the supervised injection site might as well have never happened.

Volunteer at The Lord's Rain

The Lord's Rain -- the street-level outreach at Gospel Mission, which provides showers for people on the Downtown East Side -- has a number of opportunities for volunteers. These provide a unique chance to interact with people who have been essentially "written-off" by society and truly need hope and a hand-up, rather than a hand-out.

The volunteer positions are in early mornings -- between 7 and 8:30 am -- on Mondays (women only), Thursdays and Fridays. Duties involve:

• making and serving coffee
• handing out towels, soap, etc.
• finding clothing or shoes when asked
• cleaning up

But most importantly, these volunteer positions involve interacting: listening to people and encouraging them. Just knowing that someone from "the outside" cares about them can give someone hope to carry on, and hope is probably the most precious commodity on the DTES.

If you are interested in this opportunity, please contact Janet Klassen, Assistant Pastor (and responsible for The Lord's Rain) at janet@gospelmission.net. 

Another volunteer position involves driving: we need someone to pick up the end-of-day product donation every Monday at 7pm from Cobs Bread in Caulfeild Village in West Vancouver. It requires a car -- a small hatchback will do -- and the ability to lift and load the bags. Once the product has been picked up, it needs to be delivered to The Lord's Rain -- either that same night or the following morning. 

If you are interested in this volunteer position, please contact me at drewdsnider@gmail.com.

You can find out more about the story of The Lord's Rain in this video presentation.

Junior - and the joy of giving

Frankly, I'm getting sick of writing obits for members of my "family".

In the past year, we've lost Barry Smith and Tina, and many others have come and gone over the years. "Let us learn to show our regard for a man while he is alive and not wait until after he's dead," Meyer Wolfsheim, a character in The Great Gatsby, said, so in that spirit and noting that Junior's time is short, I'd like to spend a few words on him while he's still around to contradict or embellish.

Junior comes across as a rough-hewn Cockney git, and when I first met him, he constantly sported a red ballcap with the flag of England on the back. He loved to talk about his rough past, with dark allusions to underworld connections. 

A few years ago, I let him make an "important" phone call. The call evidently went to voice mail.

"Junior. Later." And he hung up.

That more or less summed up the Junior Mystique: was he calling some gang connection? Setting up a rendez-vous? Calling a non-existent number and making us think he was doing some big business deal that dared not speak its name? 

A few weeks later, someone came into The Lord's Rain when Junior was there. "Don't I know you?" he said. "I don't know you," Junior replied. "Weren't we in Maple Ridge?" the stranger persisted, referring to the provincial jail. "I don't know you," Junior repeated.

Junior turned his attention back to telling whatever joke or anecdote he was telling me, and the stranger kept hanging around.

"I wanna ask you something," the stranger said at length.

"What?"

"Come out here with me."

"Not a good idea," I mumbled towards Junior.

"I ain't goin' nowhere," Junior said to both of us.

"No - come out. I just want to ask you something."

Junior ignored him. The stranger still hung around. I was distracted by something else and when I looked back, both of them were gone. Suddenly, Brad -- a former volunteer -- rushed in. "Drew! Get out here!" We went out and there Junior was, sitting in the alley with his back against the brick wall, bleeding from the side of his head. Junior wasn't into talking at the time, but Brad saw it and said he'd been brought down with a single sucker-punch. I called 9-1-1 for an ambulance. Junior was remarkably cooperative as they helped him in, as if the hospital would be his witness-protection program for the time-being.

When Cheryl Weber came to do a feature on The Lord's Rain in 2009, Junior suddenly stood up and recited the Pater Noster -- the Lord's Prayer in Latin, in its entirety. Cheryl's photographer shot it, although none of the footage was used.

His real name is Eric. One day, I asked him the obvious question. "How did you come to be called 'Junior'?"

The story that followed was one of those ones that was so off-the-wall, it had to be true. It turns out, he was born in India in 1948 to a 70-something member of the British Raj. Dad -- who I believe was Eric Senior -- moved back to England and left the lad in the care of his sisters in India. He eventually found his way to England, some time in a public school (what we refer to as "private" schools in Canada) and running with gangs and criminals and tough guys around Nova Scotia and Quebec on a motorcycle. Names like "Mom" Boucher, the notorious Hell's Angels kingpin, would roll off his tongue like an informant out of the back of a darkened van. Whether his talk was bigger than the reality, slightly embellished or absolutely 100% true, we may never know.

At the end of the day, Junior has been a loner. I've never known him to associate with anybody, and in many ways, a 10-minute visit to The Lord's Rain -- maybe to get coffee, maybe not -- seems to be the closest he comes to social interaction. The tales of underworld connections, while they may make some of us say, "yeah - right ...", may be Junior's way of isolating himself from the world. I still don't know why he got punched in the head.

Almost a year ago, now, Junior showed up at The Lord's Rain. The ballcap had been replaced by a large white cowboy hat. "I got cancer," he told me, matter-of-factly. "The docs say I won't see Christmas." I prayed over him for healing and peace.

The "docs" have missed the mark by several months. He comes in from time to time, by now, wearing an expensive black leather jacket.cowboy boots and a very impressive-looking watch; he also walks slowly, with a cane, and he wears sunglasses. He has grown progressively gaunt and pale in the past few months.

Yet there's still a bit of the swagger to him, and, almost to keep his own spirits up, he invariably has a joke. "Have you ever heard of an African elephant?" "Yes." "This over-sexed African elephant mated with a rhinoceros. You know what you call the offspring?" I shook my head.

"'ell-if-I-know."

(Believe it or not, I just now got it. You have to say it over a few times, I guess.)

And off he went. I figured this might be my last chance for a picture and this might be the most appropriate: a lonely figure, leaving me trying to figure out a joke as enigmatic as the man himself.

===

Maybe there's a bit of the latent bureaucrat in me -- and considering I couldn't organize a sock drawer, that could draw some guffaws from people who know me -- but when a new donation of clothing arrives at The Lord's Rain, I prefer to take some time sorting it and making sure we know what's in it. It could be that I've seen too many occasions where people have descended on a pile of donations like a pack of Tasmanian Devils on fresh carrion.

So when my friend Gloria arrived recently with a sackful of clothes her teenage sons had gathered -- along with a large garbage bag filled with new socks -- I naturally told John that we'd take some time to sort them before we'd give them out.

But then I went upstairs, and John, being the impetuous sort that he is, opened the bags and let the guys have at it. 

OK, so I didn't get to do things in an orderly fashion: but the guys were remarkably restrained and clearly delighted with the new shirts that had come in. And then I looked over at Gloria. There's a reason why she's nicknamed "Glow" -- she has this million-watt smile that could sell asphalt toothpaste and copper-wire dental floss, and she was totally ecstatic to see the pleasure people were getting. 

It proves a point we've often made here: you think you're ministering to people at The Lord's Rain; it turns out, it's the other way around.

Marty's New Chance - and lucid speakers

I think I've mentioned Marty before in these emails. A teacher whose life was dragged down by drug addiction, he first raised my eyebrows* when he supplied the line, "each man's death diminishes me" after I had quoted John Donne's "No man is an island, entire of himself ...". It was my first glimpse of the level of education among many of the people in the area. It wouldn't be my last.

*(I can only raise both eyebrows: the ability to raise only one, raised to an art form by Ian Carmichael as Lord Peter Whimsy and my friend Arlene for comedic effect during an drama exercise, has always eluded me.) 

Marty has had a few false starts on his road back. For a time, it looked like the school district would lift his suspension: that didn't happen; he worked for a time as an advocate through the health region: I'm not sure how that ended. Teaching people is his forte, and not having anyone to teach has been the toughest part, I think. Lately, he's been looking into teaching English as a second language, but that requires certification, certification requires taking courses, and taking courses requires money.

Marty had been searching for grants, scholarships, etc., etc., with no success, but this morning, he had some better news to report.

"The Housing Society (the non-profit group that administers his housing situation) is going to help me," he said. Apparently, he's to take some preliminary courses, receive an honorarium for that, and the deal is, if he plows the honorarium into the tuition fee, the housing society will pay for the rest. "They want to know that I'm serious."

"Praise the Lord," I said. "A second -- another -- chance."

"'Another chance' is right," he said. He's had more than a few and he knows it: one of his enemies through these struggles is that little voice that keeps nattering at him that he's messed-up before, so he'll probably mess up this time. We need to keep Marty in prayer that he'll get that supernatural strength to push past that voice and keep focused on "newness". It's really the only chance any of us has.

===

"I've rarely seen her that lucid."

That observation came from a friend who recently retired from 20-plus years as an advocate for Vancouver's homeless, and we have a lot of mutual friends in the area. The presentation on The Lord's Rain that I delivered in late June includes clips from people who've been involved in the Ministry. That includes the people who come to the place. (The presentation can now be viewed online, and I hope you'll take some time (48 minutes) to check it out. If you would like a DVD copy for your church, home group or organization, please let me know and I'll pop it in the mail for you.)

There are several people I refer to as "fallen geniuses" at The Lord's Rain. Lojas (pronounced like the Spanish "Luis") is one -- a Hungarian fellow who has tried more ways than I can count to find his way of serving the Lord and spreading the Gospel. At Rainbow Mission, he would put on puppet shows of Bible stories, using "puppets" that amounted to pieces of cardboard with appropriate names printed on each (like "SNAKE" for the story of Adam and Eve). He pitched to me a game he had been trying to develop, "Gospel Chess", in which no one defeats the other: since Jesus is about Unity, the idea is not to "take" the other player's pieces but bring them all together as one. I left our meeting understanding one thing: here was a genius -- and a devout and dedicated one -- but something was misfiring.

There are others who are similarly well-spoken, with advanced vocabularies; but there are times when their sentences make no sense. Not to me, anyway. Sometimes they're silly; sometimes they're ranting; often, it's as if they were reading a script made up of unconnected words and phrases, and the writer has written each word on a separate slip of paper and tossed them all into the air.

But when I put them in front of a camera to talk about The Lord's Rain and what it means to them, their expressions become remarkably clear. I think that tells you something about the spiritual impact it has on people. 

Rudy is not one of the "fallen geniuses": he's lucid every time I talk to him. He's not in this presentation, but he said a very important thing about The Lord's Rain a couple of years ago, when CBC TV did a feature on the place. In an interview (and I can't relate this with any kind of false humility), he referred to me and said "he always has time to listen to us." I'd hardly spoken to him up to that point, so he had no way of knowing that I was going through one of those periods of self-doubt, wondering if what I was doing was really doing any good. Somehow, Rudy was moved to say something, and when my friend Gloria, who did the interview, relayed that to me, it was as if the Lord had used Rudy to say to me, "hang in there, kid!"

And now, I'm afraid he's very ill -- more than he's willing to let on. He comes in every morning -- he used to come in with his wife, Audrey, but I haven't seen her in some time (he tells me she's fine, but tends to sleep late) -- and sits quietly with his coffee. He's never asked for anything, but The Lord's Rain has become his "morning place".

A few weeks ago, he told me he had an appointment at an AIDS clinic. "Is it serious?" I asked, which was kind of a stupid question, in retrospect. "I'm fine," he replied. He's never said that he actually has AIDS or what, but it's clear that he's been losing weight rapidly, and that's a very bad sign. But as Jesus has said, sickness -- even a supposedly incurable disease (like death, in the case of His friend Lazarus) -- is an opportunity for God's glory to show, which is why we need to lift Rudy and Audrey up in prayer.

More media for The Lord's Rain

It puts me to shame.

Here I am, a guy who rarely uses a few words when a thousand will do, and the most effective media articles about The Lord's Rain have been ones with "enforced" space restrictions. Leah Bolton's piece on JoyTV10 about the logo contest is one example; another is Kate Webb's front-page story on the recent funding crisis, which quickly brought in donations to keep us open for a year or more.

Now comes Kent Spencer's piece in Sunday's Province ---- from his weekly department, "The Moral Question". Definitely worth reading, because Kent deftly captures the vibe of the place. One correction: in the third- and second-last paragraphs, the quote is incorrectly attributed to me; in fact, it was Danilo who said it. (I've asked The Province to run a "for the record" correction.)

The article also refers to The Lord's Rain as being my "brain-child". As I put together the presentation I gave at Westpointe two weeks ago, it became more and more apparent that God has been lining this thing up since long before I showed up, unannounced, at the Bowery Mission in September 2007. I nearly drove myself nuts, in a minor sort of way, thinking about the connections that had been formed decades before and how they all led to the creation -- and continuation -- of The Lord's Rain. When the time was right, h

He brought it all together. Indeed, it was Barry who had a strong leading that The Lord's Rain had to open before the end of April, and so it did -- on April 30th. That was not a day too soon: if we had waited much longer, we would have been caught by the worldwide economic crisis, and one wonders how readily people would have contributed then.

But then, because of that financial collapse, the W. Garfield Weston Foundation set up a special fund to help charitable organizations get through that period, 

"Brain-father"? No - more like "brain-midwife".

=== 

Bravo for Life's Little Ironies Dep't.

"I got up this morning, flung open my window,
took a deep breath and chipped a tooth."
-- Johnny Carson on the LA smog

"Howdja like to be living in those apartments?" Ralph asked.

Ralph is a relative newcomer, certainly a what-the-heck-are-you-doing-here? fellow who seems to be compos mentis so one wonders how he wound up on the Downtown East Side.

We were outside on the sidewalk, and Ralph's attention was drawn to a large truck, idling in the alley across from us. The first of the attached photos shows the great billows of dark blue-gray smoke were wafting towards the windows above. Vancouver has a by-law limiting engine idling to 3 minutes, and this truck would have barely met the AirCare standard (40% opacity for trucks newer than 2001).

"And - coff-coff - make sure you recycle!"

OK ... stuff happens. Then the truck started moving and turned into Carrall Street, at which point, we saw the side of the vehicle.

The second of the attached photos shows the side-view: yes, it was collecting recyclables as part of Vancouver's "greenest city" initiative.

A little unclear on the concept?

"I just want to be left alone"

Maybe I've seen too many episodes of "The Closer" (although I don't think that's possible: best cop show on TV and when I saw the series finale, I felt like I was saying goodbye to some good friends), but whenever I see a body lying awkwardly in an alley I suspect the worst. Seeing large puddles of a reddish substance nearby just heightens the suspicion. 

So when I spotted a body lying awkwardly in the alley across from The Lord's Rain, I took notice; and when I saw large reddish puddles near him, I got even more alarmed. The fellow was breathing, which was a relief, so I knelt down and touched his shoulder. 

"Hey, bro'," I said. "You OK?" His eyes popped open. Bright blue eyes, under a close-cut crop of grey hair with a reasonably clear face.

"What?"

"Are you OK? Aside from lying face-down in an alley, let's say."

"Yeah. Yeah ... I'm just relaxed."

"Really? Heckuva place to be relaxing. Do you know where you are?"

He glanced around. "Yeah. What time you got?"

"10 to 8."

"OK. I just wanna be left alone."

"Hey, no problem. We got some coffee across the street, if you'd like some. Right where the sign says 'OPEN'."

I started away. One fellow walked past me down the alley and kept on going, barely looking at the man. A couple came over and the woman asked, "is he OK?" "Apparently," I replied. 

Just then, an unmarked police car pulled up and two cops got out. "Are you the one who called us?" one of them asked. "No," I said. "Someone called us." "He says he's OK." 

"Really: I'm fine ..."

The other cop knelt down beside him and they chatted for a bit. The first policeman -- older than the other, with an English accent -- came over to me. "Can our friend come over for a cup of tea or coffee?" "Absolutely," I said.

But after chatting with the man and helping him to his feet, he headed away down the alley, and the two cops went back to their beat.

===

For a brief period on Saturday, The Lord’s Rain looked like a convention of emergency personnel. A man had come in, ripped out of his mind on something, and promptly fell down. Danilo helped him to his feet and guided him to a bench beside the wall. No sooner had he sat down than he reeled and did a head-plant on the floor and lay there, unconscious.

John called 9-1-1. At the same time, another of the guys ran out and flagged down a passing police car. Two women constables came in, donned blue latex gloves and started trying to wake him up. 

At first, they had no success, and then, just as firefighters arrived (first responders), he started to open his eyes. He had a nasty red-turning-to-purple bruise on one eye and dried blood around one ear – apparently acquired before he came in. The police managed to get him sitting upright with his back against a chair and the firefighters started looking him over.

“I don’t need to go to hospital,” he kept asserting, throwing in some verbal abuse as the firefighters got more adamant that he should, “just to get checked out”.

“Listen,” one of the cops said, “you may have a head injury and you should let them check you over to make sure there isn’t damage in there.”

Another photo that won't go viral:
emergency personnel caring for someone.

“There’s nothing in there!” 

By now, the police sergeant in charge of that sector had arrived, along with the Ambulance Supervisor. The more they tried to convince him he should go to the hospital, the more he declared he was perfectly alright and didn’t need to go to the (EXPLETIVES DELETED) hospital.

The ambulance arrived. By now, we had about 10 uniforms inside, as if John had simply said "yes" when the 9-1-1 operator asked, “do you want police, fire or ambulance?”.

People, apparently, cannot be forced to go to the hospital if they don’t want to, no matter how convincing a case the emergency personnel make. Our friend suddenly got to his feet and stalked out of The Lord’s Rain, pausing to spit at the ambulance. 

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Danilo remarked after everyone had left. “When someone who’s on drugs sees people in uniforms, they get that rush of adrenalin and they immediately act like they’re sober.” 

I ran into the police sergeant a short time later. They were able to track the fellow to a SRO hotel, where he’d barged into someone’s room and started breaking things. “We got him cleaned up and got him home,” he said.

Every time I read or hear about “activists” claiming police unfairly target people on the DTES or see some amateur video that purports to show “brutality”, I think of scenes like this one. There are plenty, but strangely enough, you won’t find anyone with a cell phone camera eager to post pictures of them. So I thought I’d tell you. 

===

In the presentation I’ve been working on to spread the word and solicit support for The Lord’s Rain, I mention that the whole building and success of the project has been an example of God “getting His ducks in a row” long before He even planted the idea of providing showers for people on the Downtown East Side in anybody’s head. Connections formed years, and in some cases, decades, earlier – such as The Oasis and Andrew Sheret – re-surfaced to make the facility come to pass.

Now, it’s happened again. One of the common needs of the people we serve is footwear. “Street foot” is a nasty affliction, and many times I’ve seen feet that were positively rotting from the effects of wet and unsanitary footwear. That’s why it’s so important to keep up our supply of socks, and why we welcome donations of shoes of all kinds and sizes when they come in.

Following the media attention we got in the past month, we were contacted by the owner of Quick Cobbler. The shoe repair business has a charity giving program, in which they take in used shoes, fix them up, and donate them to the needy. Would we like to be included in the program? Of course, we would. So, praise God and blessings to Ron Nijdam and his company, we will be receiving shipments of reusable shoes every couple of months.

So what’s this long-term connection? 29 years ago, your agent was working in radio in Victoria and was hired to do a TV commercial. I played a newscaster (a real stretch, to be sure), interviewing “the shoe on the street” to see how they prefer to be repaired. The shoes – English accent for a pair of Oxfords, “Valley Girl” for a pair of outrageous-looking runners, rough and tough guy for a pair of work boots – all agreed on the same repair shop. At the end, cut back to newscaster, declaring that this shop can handle any situation. Camera tilts down to reveal newscaster has three legs. Hilarious.

The client? Quick Cobbler. Ron was with the Victoria store at the time.

The commercial may have been lost over time (I’m asking around, because I'd love to get a copy), but there are at least half a dozen people who remember it. And now the connection re-surfaces. If you have any shoes that could still bless someone – with a bit of fixing-up – you can find more information at http://www.quickcobbler.com/homeless-shoes.html or bring them around to the Quick Cobbler location at 430 West 2^nd Ave. in Vancouver.

And of course, if you have any socks you can donate to the Vancouver Sock Exchange, let me know and I can come and pick them up.

===

new logo

The Lord's Rain has a new "visual identity": a logo (which I've attached, as well) submitted by Justin McKay in response to a contest.

We like the fact that it has simple, quasi-corporate lines, while bringing together the Cross, an image of rainfall -- "latter rain," if you will -- and a very peace-inducing color scheme. 

Justin receives an eclectic set of prizes: a homemade birdhouse (built by an uncle of Janet Klassen, the assistant pastor at Gospel Mission -- and overseer of The Lord's Rain), a gift certificate to Army & Navy, and a set of tickets to a Vancouver Canadians baseball game. Marylee Stephenson, proprietor of an online gallery called "Indian Art From The Edge" (www.indianartfromtheedge.com), which promotes native Indian artists on the Downtown East Side, joined Janet in reviewing the entries, and the people who come into The Lord's Rain voted.

Janet presents the prizes to Justin

===

Amelia and I ran into an old friend from the Mission: Charlie. He’s an Eskimo (both he and another evangelist friend, Rob Gordon, call themselves “Eskimos”, rather than “Inuit”. Rob says “Inuit” refers to a specific group, while “Eskimo” is more encompassing) and Amelia has talked with him through many of his challenges. He’s tackled booze, marijuana, tobacco, and spends a lot of time just reading his Bible. "I been straight for months now," he said. "But you know what happens when you stay straight? You lose your friends."

"Those kind of friends, you don't need," Amelia said. "Besides, you make new ones," I added.

That can make it tough when one "cleans up". I remember Gilbert, the first street alcoholic I ministered to back in Victoria. He came to a series of healing services at the Victoria Miracle Centre and asked to be delivered from alcoholism. After four services, he declared himself clean, and in fact, stayed off the bottle and started to show how his life could be like without booze. But he wanted to see his friends, and couldn't resist going back to the downtown core to show them how clean he was. "They keep telling me, 'you'll be back,' and I tell them, 'no - I'm clean for good!'" 

Human nature being what it is, one often finds that people in a bad situation tend to resent anyone who tries to break out of it. That seems to be particularly true with people who turn to Christ to find a new life: the world is right there, reminding them of what they used to be and how they got there. 

And Gilbert did slip, winding up in the same sad milieu. I spoke to one of the ministers at a shelter/outreach in the city and told him how Gilbert's life had started to turn around after the prayers. "Yeah, I heard about that," he replied. "I didn't think it would last."

Thanks for the support.

Mind you, I wasn't much help, either. I was new to the Christian walk and didn't understand the importance of discipleship: being there for someone who's received the Lord and reinforcing their faith when it starts to flag.That's why I keep telling people that, while funding is an ongoing issue at The Lord's Rain and Gospel Mission, the real need is for people. Jesus didn't say, "the fields are white for the harvest, but we need money to do it"; He said, "we need workers to bring the crop in"; making sure the trumpet of faith sounds louder than the white noise of doubt.