Where to Go in Vancouver

Vandals have broken into Scotland Yard and smashed all the toilets. Police say they have nothing to go on.
-- The Two Ronnies

One of the "causes du jour" in my day job as media relations guy for the BC Electric Railway Company is the desire for public restrooms at transit stations. I won't go into the entire debate here, but it leads to a broader issue: public restrooms in general. The City of Vancouver has again approached us at Gospel Mission about keeping The Lord's Rain open in the evenings, seven nights a week, to give people a place to go. We sent them a budget; we're waiting for their response. (A similar overture in 2009 came up short for lack of funding.)

I don't mind saying: if a politician were to add "public restrooms" to his or her platform, I think they'd be surprised at how that might turn the election. They'd get my vote, anyway. The heck with the current mayor's obsession on making Vancouver "the greenest city" or "wiping out homelessness by 2015" (as if!): providing a clean, safe place where someone can go to the bathroom is symbolic of actually caring about someone's comfort and well-being.

"Going green" more often than not implies giving up something: the car, creature comforts, warmth in the winter -- even a job in resource-based industries. I think people are getting tired of being told to give something up. Besides: I promise you that the majority of people on the Downtown East Side don't give a hang about being eco-friendly when they're living in substandard conditions, surrounded by drugs, crime and poverty. But turn the "greenest city" efforts towards providing said clean, safe place to go to the bathroom, and people will actually see that someone truly cares.

(How about a 21st-Century take on 1st Corinthians 13, from - ahem - my book A Very Convenient Truth, soon to be e-published?)

Though I speak with words of tolerance and use inoffensive terms for racial and gender descriptions, and have not love, I am like a sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.

And though I understand all the implications of my carbon footprint and recycle diligently and use public transit and eschew my private auto for the sake of creating a greener city; and have not love, I am nothing.

And though I devote my spare time to fighting for social and ecological justice and quit my job even when I can’t afford to because I believe my employer does not use proper environmental practices, and have not love, it profits me nothing.

At any rate, we get so hung up on being "friendly". "Bike-friendly," "car-friendly," "business-friendly," or "family friendly", but the simple pledge to provide something as basic as a place to relieve oneself can put the city on track to something I haven't heard much lately:

People friendly.

He is ...

The World's Most Inclusive Man

"Never be thirsty, My friends." (John 4:14)

"You'd be welcome to join us," the Hallowe'en street party organizer told Pastor Barry recently.  "We're very inclusive, you know."

"Inclusive" is one of the great politically correct watchwords of the 21st Century.  Organizations, governments, businesses, individuals go to great effort to show how much they are open to people of all races, cultures, ages and lifestyles. Now, here’s a word from the Man who set the standard for inclusiveness:

... him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.

Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to him and will sup with him, and he with me.

Do you know where those statements come from? They’re from the Bible, and they’re the words of Jesus Christ (the first is in the Gospel According to John (ch. 6, verse 37) and the second is in the Book of Revelation (ch. 3, v. 20)).

Here’s another: They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick. That’s from Matthew, ch. 9, v. 12 (Mark and Luke also record it).

Are we not all “sick” in some way? Wouldn’t we all like to be well?

Here’s what the Apostle Paul had to say about “inclusiveness”: There is no difference between the Jew and the Greek: for the same Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon Him. For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. (Letter to the Romans, ch. 10. v. 12-13)

“Lord over all” ... “rich unto all” ... “whosoever” ... can’t get much more inclusive than that! (When Paul refers to “the Greek”, he’s talking about people outside of “God’s chosen people” – the Jews. In other words, as far as God’s concerned, we’re all the same.)

The Prophet Isaiah wrote, more than 700 years before Jesus came: Thus saith the Lord ... mine house shall be called an house of prayer for all people ... yet will I gather others to Him, beside those that are (already) gathered unto Him. (ch. 56, v 4-8 – edited.)

Inclusive? God wrote the book!

Businesses, organizations, etc., tend to have a vested interest in being “inclusive” – good PR, grant eligibility, among other things. But God’s interest is simple: He made us, He loves us and He wants nothing but the best for us. His Word promises that as we draw close to Him, we can expect healing, prosperity and most of all ... HOPE.

Without HOPE, why bother trying to stand against the drugs and the booze and the mistakes of the past that bring us to a destitute state? Without HOPE, why bother trying to live? And yet our greatest hope comes when we finally admit that we have no hope – we can change nothing in our own strength. But once we surrender and say, “Lord, I can’t do this – it’s up to You!”, something miraculous starts to happen. God sends a message that He’s got it covered and you can stop worrying.

The Bible tells us of a woman named Hannah, who was unable to have children. It hurt her more than anyone could imagine: she couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, cried often. One day she went up to the temple to pray and basically pour out her heart to God, begging Him to give her a child. Once she prayed – with some affirmation from the priest Eli – she went back home with a smile on her face and started eating again. Within a year, she had a baby – one of the greatest Prophets of them all, Samuel.

That is hope. Hannah was no more pregnant when she left the temple than when she went in, but she had handed off the situation to God and left Him to sort it out; as far as she was concerned, it was a done deal. That same kind of hope is available to us, just by handing off our problems, our situations and even our past slip-ups to God.

What does God expect from us? This is My commandment, that ye love one another as I have loved you. (John’s Gospel, ch. 15, v. 12) That’s it: love God above everything, and love others ahead of yourself – the way Jesus loves us.

It’s a pity that many people think that you have to be “perfect” or “ready” to be with Jesus. Look what Jesus said about the “sick”: He doesn’t expect us to be “well” when we come to Him. Making us “well” is His job. (In fact, God requires us not to worry about ourselves and how “bad” or “good” we are, and instead look outward – towards Him and towards the people around us.)

Want to know more? Pick up a Bible and read for yourself. God gave us His Word on paper so we can all know what He wants from us and what we can expect from Him – and it’s a two-way conversation. You don’t have to go to a guru, bend yourself into uncomfortable shapes, whack yourself with a flatiron or pay one red cent. If you find something strange or contradictory, you’re not alone, but don’t worry: it’s just God’s way of keeping the conversation going.

The Holy Ghost ... shall teach you all things. (John 14:26)

We give out Bibles at Gospel Mission (when we have them) because we know that once people taste and see that the Lord is good (Psalm 34), they don’t want anything else. We’ve been serving up God’s Word, straight no chaser, since 1929. And we see results: people find hope, get happier, move forward with their lives. People who felt they were rejected learn that they’re good enough for Jesus.

Now that’s “inclusive”!



The Showers Saga - 31: One Year On ...

I just looked at the calendar and noticed that yesterday -- besides being the first Friday of the week -- marked one year since Barry approached Greg Bromley, the son of Jim Bromley, who's been our landlord for almost 60 years, and told him about the idea to install showers in the vacant ground-floor space at 327 Carrall Street. At that time, we had Zero dollars to put towards it, but we asked for two weeks in which to come up with a plan and the funding for it. Barry and I had agreed that if the money was there, we'd push forward.

Greg told us he had two expressions of interest in the site already, but he was willing to forego those to give us a chance. The first "worldly" sign that this was God's intention.

I say "worldly" sign, because there had been plenty of signs in the Spirit leading up to that, including the fact that Barry and I had had the idea put on our hearts independently of each other, and that there were two prophecies spoken, which related to expansion of the Mission's "footprint" and new ways of reaching people. Greg's willingness to give us a shot was the first confirmation.

And so here we are: it's been six months since we opened, and through the end of October, we had logged 311 showers, I don't know how many cans of coffee (not to mention the sugar: we got a call from some Manitoba farmers recently, saying they were running out of beets!), and many new people who've come in to chat and take a "break" from being "street people"; many of them have started coming to the services upstairs. Truly, the love of Christ in action, and we give God all the glory: it's His will for the area, because it's not His will that any of His little ones perish.

Consider, too, the uphill battle to get people to focus on Jesus when their brains are tuned to focusing on their next hit of drugs: society isn't helping, either, with the constant barrage of propaganda for InSite and its ilk. It's like opposite poles: at the one is the message that society has given up on people who are on drugs, and at the other is the message that God does NOT give up on His people!

One intriguing development of late is that The Lord's Rain is about to get an artistic component: some young artists -- one of them from Emily Carr University, and part of the Campus Ministry there -- have stepped up to paint murals on the inside walls. I'll send more details -- and pictures -- later, but this was a connection made by our beloved friend, Kathy Kinahan, through a group she's associated with, "Big Give Vancouver".

Today's opening was busy. We're into monsoon season in Vancouver, so lots of people came in for coffee, a chance to warm up and -- in six cases -- a shower.

Actually, make that five showers. One fellow came in who was so drunk he could hardly stand. He asked for two cups of coffee and had the shakes so badly I had to carry them for him while he went to sit down. Then he decided he wanted a shower, but was unable to get undressed, so I helped him with that and got the shower going and left him sitting on the chair in the stall. But when I checked on him about five minutes later, he was still sitting there in his underwear, complaining of a terrible pain in his stomach. Not being a doctor -- and not wanting to just write it off as "you've just had too much to drink", in case it was something really serious -- I called the ambulance.

They arrived quickly, and at first, he said he wanted to go to detox. The paramedics said they wouldn't take him there, but they'd take him to hospital to have him checked out. Finally, he agreed to that, and they bundled him up on the gurney and took him away.

I have to admit, I don't understand the detox system. I hear of some people waiting several days to get a space there, some who spend a couple of weeks in the place ... and now this paramedic tells me, many will go to detox and spend maybe half an hour in there, waiting until they dry out and can stand again ... and then they walk out. The paramedic said the ambulance won't be used as a taxi to detox; but they'll take someone to hospital. Fair enough.

Once again, The Lord's Rain finds itself in the right place at the right time. I can't count the number of people who've needed medical attention -- in various forms -- at times we've been open, and have come into our place to find the shelter and someone to make the call.

The Showers Saga - 30: An Old Friend Comes to Call

One of the interesting things about Gospel Mission is the connection with Rainbow Mission. (No, I'm not about to burst into a rendition of "Rainbow Connection".) That mission, kitty-corner from Oppenheimer Park, started in the 40s and was run by Rev. Robert Brown and his wife, Joyce, for over 40 years before it closed in January 2007. In 2004, Pastor Bob took a "flyer" with this total newcomer, letting me do the Saturday night sermons before I eventually took on the Wednesday night services. Klasina van Weert, along with Don and Roberta Fraser, took charge of Thursdays. Many years before, Barry Babcook and Daniel Vallieres cut their ministerial teeth at Rainbow.

When Rainbow closed, Klasina, along with Sandy Benn, went over to Gospel Mission to do Tuesday nights. When she learned Saturdays were open, she called me, and so my little ministerial "team" -- John Sharp, Danilo Estrada and Amelia Shaw -- and I migrated to Pigeon Park. Klasina has moved on; Sandy is now part of our Saturday night team, along with Brad Bell, who had also helped out at Rainbow from time to time.

Now, there's one more "member" of the Rainbow crew at Gospel Mission -- and The Lord's Rain, in particular.

This painting -- on a slab of wood -- was a particular favorite of mine. There were a number of "home-made" paintings hung around Rainbow, but this one always struck home with me and I referred to it in a number of messages there. Last week, Brad mentioned that he had rescued it from Rainbow Mission when it was closed, and it had been sitting in his apartment ever since, so he decided it needed to be shared. He brought it down on Sunday and Barry nailed it to the wall.

You probably recognize the Scripture on which the painting is based "Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear My voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me." (Revelation 3:20 KJV)

Along with 2 Corinthians 5:17*, this was and remains a pivotal Scripture in my own "walk" and one of my favorite sermon topics. Imagine: Jesus, the Anointed One, the Son of God, actually knocking on my door, wanting to come in and share time with me -- not because I'm anything special, but because that's His will for everyone! The two-way street that "to sup" connotes ... and the fact that, if you look at the picture (hard to see in the photo), there's no doorknob visible. That's because the doorknob is on the inside: it's up to us to open it!

As we come close to finishing our sixth month of operation, we're about to log the 300th shower, which is pretty good attendance, considering our relatively limited opening times so far. But we now are also open from Noon till 5 on Mondays and Fridays, as well as Tuesdays 7-8:30 am, Friday Ladies' Night 7-9 pm and Saturdays, 7-10am. Also, thanks to the hard work by the volunteers from KMPG and Brad's agreeing to take on the job of overseeing it, we are now able to start our clothing exchange during the Tuesday and Saturday openings. We have a washer-dryer now, thanks to Bruce and Sharon Nelson (as mentioned before), but we don't provide a laundry service: any clothing left behind is considered donated (if it's still wearable).

Add to this the fact that we're seeing more people upstairs at Gospel Mission, whom we had originally met through The Lord's Rain, and you can see that the showers project is reaching people in ways we couldn't have thought of when we first started. Accomplishing this has truly been a partnership of all of us here: one of the great blessings has been the ways in which a wide variety of people have been involved in a wide variety of ways -- with their gifts, time, prayer and finances. Essentially, God has carried this project from the day it was conceived almost a year ago now, working through all of you to achieve His purpose. "Many members - one body." Ain't that the truth!

There's no graceful segue to this: we are facing financial need right now. The presentations I give to churches end with a "pitch", but not for money: rather, it's encouragement for people to seek the Lord as to what He wants them to do to serve Him and serve others. If I gave a heavy pitch for people to send us money, it might not be what God wants, and I won't get into that area. So we trust that the Lord will tap people on the shoulder -- as He has done for Gospel Mission since 1929 -- and work through them to provide.

That being said, would you please take some quiet time and seek the Lord about making a contribution to Gospel Mission and The Lord's Rain? Simply send a cheque or money order to Gospel Mission Society PO Box 57151 Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada V5K 1Z1. Or ... you could bring it around to 331 Carrall Street (1/2 block north of Hastings) when we're open in the evening (7pm Monday-Saturday, 1pm Sunday) or come to The Lord's Rain during the Tuesday or Saturday morning openings. The contributions are tax-deductible; last year a couple of friends gave donations in the name of a friend or relative as a Christmas gift.

*"Therefore, if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new."

The Showers Saga - 27: IT'S AUCTION TIME!

And now ...

Here it is ...

At long last ...

The long-awaited...

Often imitated ...

Never replicated ...

Sorry, once a PR guy, always a PR guy.

This is Part One of the Great Silent Auction to support The Lord's Rain. Subsequent parts will come up in the next few days, as we get photos taken of the other items. While the funds raised will go towards operations such as rent and utilities, they will first be used on some specific needs, namely finishing the back wall and building shelving and a large closet so we can organize and distribute the clothing donations that have been coming in.

Jim Bennett and his co-workers from KPMG in Vancouver are declaring a "volunteer day" in the next few weeks to assist with that job of organizing. (Brief testimony: I've kidded, almost to the point that it sounds like complaining, that my office at the church and much of my living room and office at home have been taken over by the donated clothing; but I praise God for providing the space where these donations are safe!)

Anyway ... auction time -- so here goes!

The first "lot" is two nights' stay at A Waterfront Cottage at Ucluelet:

This fully self-contained heritage cottage is a splendid getaway when the world is too much with us*, located on Ucluelet harbour with views of passing boats and wildlife right from the doorstep.

You're a 5-minute stroll from the Wild Pacific Trail on the very edge of Canada, and minutes by car from Long Beach, Wickanninish, Tofino and Clayoquot Sound. Rent (or bring) a kayak, and paddle from the front door to Barkley Sound and the Broken Islands; or let the locals do the navigating, and go whale- or bear-watching. Find out more at www.awaterfrontcottage.com.

This awesome experience is provided by my old high school friend (well, not that old, really), Marg Vedova. It's good for 12 months, subject to availability, with a blackout from November through April.

Please send your bids to me via return email. Bidding will close Sept. 30.

*That's Wordsworth.

Two Elephants in the Living Room

This past Saturday's Vancouver Sun carried an in-depth piece on the murders at an apartment in Surrey last October. Four gang associates and two innocent bystanders were executed in the apartment. Police are still looking for the killer(s). There are interviews with the grieving families and explanations of the criminal past of the gangsters. Police talk about how hard it is to keep up with organized crime. The Solicitor-General promises tough action. Opinion polls indicate the public has little confidence in police to deal with organized crime. There are veiled suggestions that the court system lets police and the public down by being too lenient with criminals.


But there's an elephant in the living room. You know: the one everyone knows is there, but no one wants to talk about.


Two elephants, actually.


One is that the gangs are fuelled by drug money. Drugs. The bottom line.


And who's responsible for the drug trade?


We are.


We -- as a society -- have sent mixed messages to people. We're down on drugs, but don't want to do what it takes to keep people off them -- or get people off them. We send mixed messages, wringing our hands at the demon of crystal meth, crack and heroin, but taking a laissez-faire attitude towards addicts.


This is where the right-winger in me comes out, big-time. We've tried to infiltrate the drug underworld and nail "Mr Big" (in singular or plural form) for years, without trying to deal with the "demand" side of any economic equation. But so long as the demand is there -- so long as people shoot up, snort or smoke -- and we not only turn a blind eye but advocate giving them "a safe place to shoot up", there will always be dealers. We arrest one Mr Big (along with the attendant media frenzy over just how much money the guy was bringing in, how big his house is, how many Mercedes-Benzes he has and how glamorous a lifestyle he was leading), and 20 more will figure it's worth risking a stretch in the slammer.

But take away the belief among the users that they can smoke up in full view of the law and they won't face any consequences, and just watch what happens to demand. Even the rather off-beat ECON 100 class with Larry Boland at SFU told me the lineup to become suppliers would start to dwindle.

But how do we bust the users? What would we do with them? Send them to jail? In a trice (that's the Imperial measure: the metric is augenblick) there'd be some sharp lawyer on the line, finding some Charter right that's being violated. Force them into rehab? Even less feasible: one thing from the past four years in that area is, they have to want to be free of the addiction, or they'll just fall into it again as soon as their term was up.*

You can't -- in other words -- force someone to do the right thing. They have to make that choice themselves. But how?

That brings us to the other elephant in the living room.

A prime example is one of the brothers at Carrall Street. I may have mentioned him before: he's 64 now, had a stroke a few years ago so can't walk or talk very well, has a broken clavicle that sticks up through his skin (the surgeon says the "do nothing" option is the best one because he's concerned Jim might fall, break the plate that would be joining the bone together, and bring on infection. "I took an oath to 'do no harm'," the doctor told me. Funny how "do no harm" applies with a man who has a bone sticking through his skin, but do less harm is, apparently, perfectly acceptable for shooting drugs. But I digress ...)

Jim was caught smoking crack in his hotel room. His health care worker and I were discussing the case, and we both agreed that he had to get off the drugs (duh). There was a pause in the conversation, and then we both said -- practically in unison -- "why?"

Why, indeed? Why should he kick the drugs? He's 64 ... affected by a stroke ... with a broken clavicle ... living in a 10 x 10 room on the Downtown East Side.

What's the elephant? Lack of hope?

Yes and no. The elephant is that the hope is found in Christ. Jesus provides the hope that people need in order to rise above their afflictions -- the hope that makes them see that there's something better than living for the next fix. But no one wants to talk about that, which makes Jesus the other elephant in the living room.

And that's where we come in. We have to instill that Hope in people, and praise God, we see miracles, signs and wonders among the people who come to Gospel Mission/Carrall Street Church/The Lord's Rain. It's not another theory -- untried, untested and untrue and therefore perfectly positioned to garner millions of dollars in government funding and become the flavor-of-the-week social engineering rallying point -- but something that works over and over again -- much to the chagrin of the "ABC"** movements.

Praise God, too, that we're not dependent on government handouts, which invariably come with strings attached -- like "Don't Preach Christ - crucified or otherwise". We'll keep preaching Him, because that is the only true source of Hope for people -- especially those who are no longer being treated as people ... by other people.

BTW ... interesting sidebar to the story last week, that a BC Supreme Court Justice (there's an oxymoron for you!) ruled it would be "unconstitutional" to deny funding to the safe injection site. One of the brothers at Carrall Street mentioned off-handedly, "I missed the rally ... and it cost me $35." Apparently, that was the inducement to be part of the "spontaneous demonstration of support" for InSite. The money, he said, came from VANDU -- the support group for drug users ("VANDU's got money, man!") -- so they got groovy black t-shirts with the unsupported claim "InSite saves lives", a seat in a courtroom ... and $35. Orwell, thou shouldst be living at this hour!

*How many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb? ANSWER: Just one, but the light bulb has to really WANT to change.
** ABC = Anybody But Christ (also called "Jesus Without")

The Showers Saga - 22: Right Place, Right Time

Another Wednesday ... another morning for The Lord's Rain.

The action started just as I was arriving: some guy coming out of the alley, obviously angry at something, unleashing a string of profanity towards me. I replied, "God bless you" ... "WHAT???" ... "God bless you" ... and he looked like he was about to lunge at me, and then thought better of it.

(I remember Barry's description of the times he's been cold-cocked on the DTES, simply for preaching the Word; and has simply blessed his attacker. That would be my model.)

Danilo was waiting for me and stepped in, almost escalating the situation by not letting the guy walk away without getting an earful. That's uncharacteristic for Danilo -- or actually, for the Danilo I've known for the past year or so. When I first met him -- at Rainbow Mission -- he had a hot temper, and on a couple of occasions looked ready to take on someone who was giving me lip. But as he's grown closer to the Lord, that part of him has come into captivity, and he's been much different.

Pastor Reggie in New York told me that some of the "regulars" at the Bowery are quite protective of him (not that I count Danilo as "regular"). On one occasion, a newcomer got mouthy, and one of the regulars turned on him and said, "you don't talk to Pastor Reggie like that!", then took him outside. Reggie went after them to explain that "that's not how we handle things" ... but admitted that he did wait a couple of minutes first.

But I digress ...

Something I've learned about the people on the DTES is that they do respond to a firm voice. Amelia was telling our home group last night, how she has her "Amelia" voice and also her "mom" voice; I can't wait to hear her use her "mom" voice on Ladies' Night! One of the guys who's visited the Lord's Rain before -- a fellow called Horndog -- came in for the shower, and was switching in and out of different personalities like some people change lanes on the LA Freeway. At one time, he'd be calm and rational; then as if on a hair-trigger, become foul-mouthed and belligerent.

He started getting mouthy with Danilo, which is not a good proposition; and finally I stepped in and pointed out the "no swearing / abusive / violent behaviour" rule -- and told him I wouldn't want to have him barred for 30 days (another piece of policy lifted from Pastor Reggie's handbook!) -- and he settled right down.

Danilo says it's because so many of the people on the DTES have been institutionalized and are used to getting orders. I suspect it's a little like Roger Jamison at Anchor House in Brooklyn: people who haven't had discipline and a firm but loving voice to keep them in line, respond when they finally get one.

We've talked about the "soft evangelism" represented by The Lord's Rain: the fact that we don't do any overt Preaching, but just let people feel the love and fellowship of Christ while a basic need is met. Sometimes, that need is just coffee, a warm place to sit, and a chance to chat. Certainly, Horndog gets that when he's there (which is why I'm loath to give him the honor of being the first to be barred from the place), and we get to meet some interesting people who we wouldn't ordinarily meet, upstairs in our coccoon.

Tim -- the first-ever shower "customer" -- turns out to be an ironworker, as in one of the guys stomping around on the skeletons of skyscrapers. (He mentioned having family back east, so I wonder if he's Mohawk -- descended from the guys who built New York City's skyscrapers a century ago, noted for having no fear of heights?) Anyway, he'll be starting work soon, helping install the elevators at Shangri-La, the 62-story landmark being built on West Georgia.



The value of the facility also became evident when Shelley, the "doorway duchess" I've mentioned before, arrived just as we were about to close up, with a man leaning on her. At first, I thought he was stoned, because he could barely walk, but his affliction was much more mundane than that: he had a serious back injury.



(Shelley gives every impression of being a street-hardened homeless addict, doing deals and smoking up from her "home" in a doorway in the building next to ours. She's been on the streets for about six years, she told me. But I also sense a lot of love in her heart, and I know the Lord wants her bad. So we need to keep her in prayer for miracles and revelations and for her to draw closer to God -- not just for her sake, but for the sake of those who hang around her: I get the feeling that if she were to renounce the life she's in now and come to the Kingdom, others will follow.)



We managed to get Dave into a chair, and, for want of any chiropractic knowhow, we started praying over him and laying on hands. He relaxed somewhat, so we could find out what had happened: he had fallen down 40 stairs early in the morning. We called the ambulance and they got him to the hospital. Another fellow -- presumably a street worker -- helped get information and comfort him and then went to the hospital with him.
All of which demonstrates the purpose of The Lord's Rain. It's not "just" about showers for street people. It was a place that was open at an hour that others aren't, and welcoming: and a place that Shelley knew would be able to help Dave.

That's why so many people who have contributed in the ways they've contributed -- and continue to do so -- are caught up with the idea: a way of reaching people many might think are unreachable, coming in through the side door to their souls.

And that's what "soft evangelism" is all about.

It's also a probable reason why it's time to get a cat, because we're still running a battle with the rats.

The little brutes manage to chew through practically every barrier we've put up -- concrete, foil, whatever. You don't need to be Rick Joyner to figure out what's going on!

The answer -- en repose. Just don't tell Heather Mills (Paul's biggest mistake since "The Girl Is Mine"): we don't need an animal-rights protest!

Please keep praying over the ministry, particularly Psalm 91, which says in part:

Because thou hast made the Lord, which is thy refuge, even the most high, thy habitation;

There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.

-- Ps. 91:9-10 (KJV)

The Showers Saga 21 - Humble Beginnings

It's not often that the expression "the next level" means going from the second floor to the ground floor, but that's the intriguing paradox of The Lord's Rain. I find myself standing outside 327 Carrall St., watching the passing scene and contemplating what God has gotten us into now. The legendary drug deals go down in front of and beside me; people older than me and younger than my son, wander back and forth, zombie-like, while a steady parade of squad cars with two and sometimes three cops in each, cruises the area.

"Welcome to the Next Level," the Lord says. I know He never gives us anything we can't handle, so obviously He figures we at Gospel Mission can handle what He's about to throw at us.

Janet has already remarked that she's never really had a window on the street before. It's easy to feel like you're in a cocoon on the second floor, but that's OK, because if any of us had been dropped, like Mr Bean, into the middle of the DTES without the gradual "pressurization" -- the experience of dealing with people who have long since stopped trusting others and the time spent gaining a reputation as people who walk in Love and not judgment -- we'd have been discouraged from the start. Now, praise God, we know that He is strengthening us in this task, lifting us up and will not leave us unattended. He's already decreed that, but, as with many other things we face, the trick is to convince ourselves of that truth. Now, we're ready.

The other Word that keeps coming to me as I watch people do their drugs and make their deals and generally stomp around the place with those convulsive movements that mark someone who's strung out on crack or crystal meth is, "these are somebody's children". A young woman -- heck: a girl -- came up to us a couple of weeks ago as we were leaving from the Saturday night service. We had some cookies left over, and she saw them and asked for one. Amelia gave them to her, and after she left, I said, "she's just a girl. She could be my daughter!" "Keep praying that it won't be," Amelia replied, "and pray that if ever it is, there'll be someone to give her a cookie."

(Don't Get Me Started Dep't: the BC Nurses Union is demanding more funding for the safe injection site. One nurse says her heroin-addicted sister might be alive today if she'd had a "safe place to shoot up". Indeed? Let's not blame the lack of a "safe place" for that wasted life: the responsibility lies with the people who introduced her to heroin in the first place, and before that, those who created the situation leading to her even wanting to try it. People have kicked the habit in the past. People need encouragement to get off the drug and the hope that there's a reason for doing it. Handing someone a needle and saying, "here's a 'safe place': go ahead and shoot", simply tells them they're always going to be a drug addict so they might as well give up hope. But of course, the best hope is in Christ, and a lot of people don't want to tell anyone that.)

Back to the showers ... People are coming in for a coffee and some stick around to chat and some actually have a shower. In five openings so far, we've served 17 people. Some might call that a slow start: I look at it as being exactly what God wants for the place. K-Mack said it perfectly last Saturday night: imagine what it will look like in a couple of years!





Painting day: Kathy (a/k/a The Towel Lady) and Sean putting Coat One on the Lord's Rain

Amelia too!

Ladies' Night got underway this past Friday. Janet is ready to do manicures, and the others -- Amelia, K-Mack and Sandy -- were there to greet whomever wanted to come in. One woman came in for the shower, but K-Mack (K-Mack = Kathy McPhillips who is, among other things, Worship leader on Saturday nights; this differentiates her from Kathy Kinahan, a/k/a The Towel Lady) was the only one who got a manicure. Janet drew a neat little flower on one fingernail. Unfortunately, in order to show it to me, K-Mack had to make a rude gesture, and I hold Janet fully responsible for that!

In terms of numbers, these are humble beginnings. But in terms of outreach, we're already doing our job. We weren't going to do any overt preaching -- Barry calls it "soft evangelism" -- but there's no doubt that the showers project is the work of a Christian organization, motivated by a touch from God to provide a basic human need to people. It's getting us onto street level, giving us a better view of the world we serve -- and giving people in that world a better view of us -- and, we pray, of Jesus.

They Must Be Smoking Something

"We smoke pot! We smoke pot!"

That was the chant from a rally on Saturday in Vancouver: something which a news report described as commemorating the "Million Marijuana March", whatever the heck that was. It was, simply put (so that even those smoking something can understand it), another demonstration demanding the "right" to smoke marijuana without being "hassled" by "pigs".

To begin with, giving the demonstration a name that echoes of the "Million Man March" is an affront to the sacrifices of Martin Luther King, Medgar Evars and all the others who laid down their lives for the cause of civil rights. Comparing their struggle with someone wanting the "right" to smoke dope indicates the total self-absorption of a bunch of privileged children who've been denied one more cookie.

But even more striking was the contrast between this event, and something that was going on just a few blocks away.

First, some words about the marijuana advocates.

The inane chanting was one thing (probably all they could get out of their mouths when stoned), but a careful analysis of the sound bite from one of their spokespeople shows the kind of convoluted, distorted thinking that you find when people demand the "right" to do something that is patently not right. They'll say anything to make their point, and remarks like "prohibition only encourages organized crime" is the sort of inside-out thinking that would have made Orwell proud.

Rather than prohibition, organized crime has received carte blanche from the multiple-message attitude our society has promoted. We tell kids not to do drugs, yet our media make heroes out of the likes of Mark Emery, who's been fighting extradition to the United States to face drug-related charges. Anyone who suggests that marijuana is an entree to other, stronger drugs is immediately vilified as a stick-in-the-mud.

Well, at least you know where a stick-in-the-mud stands. Besides, it doesn't take a psych major to know that if someone gets a "wonderful feeling" from something, they'll want to take the experience deeper. It's human nature. And we know that marijuana grown these days is more potent than it was in the 60s, when Cheech and Chong were making it seem oh-so-romantic and exciting. Evidently, the demand for a bigger "high" is already there, even without switching to other substances.

Now, about that contrast: at the same time that the rally was being organized, a group of us had opened the doors on Day 2 of The Lord's Rain -- the showers project at Gospel Mission. Outside, there was the usual array of drug dealers and users, plying their trade openly in the street: Shelly, the street duchess, who's set up camp in the doorway of a disused building next to ours, had her group coming and going, dealing and using; others were handing out their little white nuggets (crack cocaine) in the alley or next door in Pigeon Park.

Inside The Lord's Rain, there was a girl, barely out of her teens, passed out on a makeshift bed of chairs. She had come in crying and shaking and shivering: it was wet and raining outside, and she was wearing nothing but a tank top, jeans and runners without laces, with a wet, dirty blanket around her shoulders. We finally got her lying down and she fell asleep.

As I prayed over her, I asked God to send me a solution -- someplace she could go, someone to take care of her. What do we do with such people? We're giving showers and coffee to people -- we wish we could also feed and clothe and provide homes for them all ... and jobs ... and health ... the showers and coffee are a start -- the seeds to be planted that someone does care and that they are all worthy as God's children. But how do we deal with the immediate need -- like a place for this girl to go?

The fact that the girl looks barely older than my own daughter is all the more upsetting.

She was showing the effects of heroin and cocaine. Isn't heroin and cocaine a "speedball" -- the very thing that killed John Belushi? Belushi's world -- Hollywood and stardom and fame and money -- is so far removed from the Downtown East Side, and yet here is this child, destroyed by the same thing.

God answered my prayer, for someone to come and help: about an hour and a half later, a middle-aged woman walked in and said, "What's my daughter doing here?"

The mother stayed with us and made a few phone calls, and as we were closing up, helped her get dressed in dry clothes we found for her. We loaded the girl into the back of my car and drove around, eventually winding up at Triage, where they let her sleep on a couch while waiting for a place to take her.

(There's some question as to whether the "mother" is actually a blood relative, or is actually a "street mother", who watches over these kids. Regardless, the girl called her "mom", so there was some kind of mother-daughter relationship there: likely a relationship lacking in the girl's biological family.)

Would someone like to tell me that this girl did not begin her life on drugs by smoking marijuana, graduating to things that will give her more of a "good" feeling? Do we seriously believe that she went directly from being absolutely clean to Heroin Hotel, with a brief stopover at the Coke Cafe? Do kids with their raging sores and tempers to match, caused by crystal meth, begin with crystal meth, or were they not given a foot in the door with that "harmless recreational smoke"? (It has been shown that a lot of joints are now being laced with crystal meth, to give first-timers a taste for it.)

Is one not excused for wanting to drive a cement mixer through the Million Marijuana March?

No, Lord, one is not excused for succumbing to the flesh like that. Rather, all one can do is hand this to You: and I pray that You will reveal Yourself to the people in that march, their supporters, and the media who paint this in such sympathetic colours, and that their eyes will be opened to Your Truth; and I also pray that Your love will cover these people on the Downtown East Side -- and anywhere else where they have turned into walking, breathing corpses because of drugs; and that You will forgive us all, for the mixed messages we have permitted, allowing things to come to this point.

And help us to keep seeking You, Lord, even at such a time as this.