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By Steve Weatherbe
THE CHILD is father to the man, the saying goes – and in Victoria, a ministry for street teenagers was father to a ministry for
street adults.
Streethope is the name of this hybrid ministry, operating on the rough northeast
edge of the capital’s downtown – out of an aging cottage, to the rear of St. John the Divine’s Anglican Church. The neighborhood is an area of low rent, soup kitchens and
drug abuse.
Streethope has just released a book. It combines the favourite recipes of
volunteer cook Barb Stoeckel; and pithy tales from the ministry’s sole paid staffer, longtime Church Army evangelist Rick Sandberg.
The Church Army is the Anglican church’s answer to the Salvation Army, addressing the evangelical and social needs of
the poor since the early 1880s. Sandberg is actually a captain, but there is no
rank or ceremony in evidence at the spartan cottage – dubbed ‘the Shoe Box Place,’ because of the street survival kits it has been handing out for 20 years in
shoeboxes.
Sandberg is big and affable man who, when this reporter arrives on the spur of
the moment, is patiently helping an emaciated young woman find a truck to move
her possessions.
A quick tour reveals a computer; a cupboard half full of small boxes packed with
cans and packs of food; the world’s smallest kitchen;a compact front room already crowded with coffee, fruit
drinks and three people . . . and – that’s it. The other half of the cottage is otherwise occupied.
Though Sandberg gives the impression he could easily preach to a large
gathering, he likes the low-key intimacy of Streethope – which might only host three dozen street people a week.
There was a time when teenagers with backpacks abounded in Victoria’s downtown, and Sandberg was assigned to minister to them – accountable at one time to Youth for Christ, and at another to the Anglican
Diocese of British Columbia.
For whatever reasons, the teens have dwindled, though Streethope still serves
them weekday early afternoons – offering refreshments, a sympathetic ear, and shoeboxes.
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“Around 2004, people started showing up on our back step – and we decided we’ve got to do something,” said Sandberg. ‘People’ being adult street people – and ‘we’ being his cadre of volunteers: Barb Stoeckel, Sue Patterson and Erick Hinton.
So late afternoon became the time to invite in the far-gone folks society has
generally abandoned – but who, in Victoria, are provided for in large numbers a block from the Shoe
Box, at Our Place.
Still, there are stragglers who shun the numbers at Our Place – and these are Streethope’s congregation.
“It’s a personal ministry. We do referrals to social agencies, help hunt for
apartments, help people feel like they are somebody,” said Sandberg. Most of those who show up are addicted to one thing or another.
He believes they can’t recover from these problems until they first “feel God’s unfailing love” – and thus recover self worth.
In the meantime, too many believe they can’t be saved if they are still addicts, and so they abandon hope. Streethope loves
them in Christ’s name, said Sandberg, “as they are.” Which turns out not to be all that hard, he maintained. “They look scary. But they are great people once you get to know them.”
To draw some attention, Streethope has published Recipes for the Ultimate High . It features 17 recipes for soup, and one for Nanaimo bars – interspersed with Sandberg’s anecdotes, and some letters from former street people.
One named Shannon writes to thank Sandberg for helping her with air fare back to
New Brunswick and her family. Another woman, Pauline, recounts how she got off
the street after four years of help from Streethope – and after 13 more years of struggle finally came to Christ.
In one of Sandberg’s tales, he describes persuading a teenager he met on the street to apply for
detox. On the short walk to the Shoebox Place to phone, “we met a 17 year old girl who looked distraught. She had been robbed. When she
learned where we were going, she asked if she too could get into youth detox,
because she was using pills.
“While still on the way to the Shoebox Place, we met two 20 year old girls. One
asked for help getting into drug rehab . . . It was another Spirit-led start to
a day downtown.”
September 2009
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