They Never Gave Up

The following article was printed in TSA Canada's "Faith & Friends (Sept 05)." It's by Rob Dolby, one of my favorite people!

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I know what desperation looks like. It's the twitches that start when you need another hit- but don't have any cash. Desperation is when you've burned so many bridges, hurt so many people and dropped so low that your only choice is to keep walking on a cold night or freeze to death. Desperation is that place of zero hope where you don't believe anything can get better. When you think your only choices are death, jail or an institution. Desperation steals your initiative, demolishes your sense of self-worth and pushes your face even deeper into the gutter.

I know what desperation looks like, because I was desperate for years. My heroin and alcohol addiction took too much of my life and made me homeless. I never panhandled, but I sold drugs, stole and robbed . . . I did whatever I needed to get cash.

I lived on the streets in Toronto and Vancouver and stayed at Sally Ann shelters. Eventually I went through Salvation Army treatment programs and got clean. When I came out of detox an Army family took me in. I lived in their home and they supported me in my sobriety.

Now I work for the Army. I lead all the street outreach for Corps 614, a Salvation Army church in Vancouver's Downtown Eastside. We walk the neighborhood, helping in practical ways. We make friends with the friendless. We pray. We feed. We get shelter and take people to the hospital. We try to be family to those on the streets.

I know how important it is to be available. When I was living rough, The Salvation Army was the most visible agency helping everyone who was homeless. The Army is out there at street-level. They feed people with the canteen, meeting immediate needs, but with the long-term goal of helping them start over.

If they weren't doing it, I don't know who would. And I have yet to meet a Salvationist doing this kind of work for the money or for selfish gain. Offering hope in hopeless situations is a tough job.

When I started to clean up I knew that just as I had been helped, I had to help others. Now it's a privilege to serve. And what inspires me is that, in God's eyes, everyone matters. Even the addict, the guy who has tried to get clean many times but fails, or the homeless woman with her stuffed shopping cart muttering on the corner in all sorts of weather. They are important to God and because they matter to God, they matter to me. For years I was that addict and although many gave up on me, people at The Salvation Army didn't. They knew that sometimes hope isn't complicated- it can be as simple as a bad, something to eat or a smile.

And because they didn't give up I have a new life of purpose. I'm not desperate anymore, but I'm driven to reach as many homeless people as possible. I want them to know what I know now- that a better life is possible.