Assignment: Save the World
In this latest instalment of the Marvel Films franchise, Hollywood puts a new spin on the formation of the original superhero team. Much of The Avengers is based around Steve Rogers, aka Captain America (Chris Evans) and his attempts to make sense of the modern world. In a deviation from the comic-book storyline, Rogers emerges from a deep freeze after heroically crashing his plane into the Arctic Ocean at the end of the Second World War.

He and Tony Stark (Robert Downey, Jr.), aka Iron Man, are enlisted by Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson), head of the super-secret law enforcement agency SHIELD. They’re joined by highly skilled SHIELD agents Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner) and Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson), banished Norse god Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and genetically altered scientist David Banner (Mark Ruffalo), who, when angered, turns into the green-skinned Hulk.

These six extraordinary individuals are brought together to save the world from Norse god and would-be conqueror Loki (Tom Hiddleston).

Together, But Apart
The Avengers is just as much a study in interpersonal relationships as it is an old-fashioned comic-book adventure. How can these extraordinary, but very different, individuals come together and work as an effective unit?

Tony Stark, for instance, is an egotistical genius whose sardonic wit drips from every clever line. “Apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed and don’t play well with others,” he tells Fury when asked to join the team.

“We’re not a team. We’re a time bomb!” says a frustrated David Banner.

Maybe that’s the point. Director Joss Whedon admitted as much in a recent interview. “The whole movie is about finding yourself,” he commented, “finding that you not only belong together but need each other very much.”

Unlikely Team
If the premise sounds awfully familiar, it is.

When Jesus began His earthly ministry, He put together a team to help Him teach the lost, heal the sick and show God’s love.

You would think Jesus would have picked the best of the best—maybe a charismatic general, a gifted politician or a popular athlete of the day—to make up His team.

Instead, Jesus chose the most ordinary people He could find—a few fishermen, zealous revolutionaries and even a reviled tax collector. And just like in The Avengers, Jesus’ Twelve Apostles couldn’t have been more different. Some were soft-spoken and thoughtful, while others were loud and obnoxious. They argued about theology, jockeyed for position and often failed to understand Jesus’ mission. To make matters worse, there was even a traitor within their ranks.

Far from standing behind their leader, they all fled the scene when Jesus was seized by the Roman authorities. Their team leader, Peter, even denied he knew Jesus—not once but three times!

But then a wondrous thing happened. Once they figured out their calling in the wake of Jesus’ Crucifixion and Resurrection and then received the power of the Holy Spirit, the apostles were an unstoppable force. They collectively penned a large portion of the New Testament and were the catalysts who took the Early Church from its infancy to the farthest reaches of the Roman Empire. Most of them died for their faith, and the impact of their sacrificial work is still being felt today.

Everyday Heroes
If you strip away the superpowers and the mythological overtones, the storyline that drives The Avengers is not so different from the real-life scenario Christians face today. Just as those unique individuals were called to work together in order to save the world, and just like the apostles 2,000 years ago, we are called to put aside our differences and use the talents, abilities and spiritual gifts God gave us in order to do good.

To do so, we need to follow the Apostle Paul’s advice: “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity” (Colossians 3:12-14). With those gifts, everyone can make a significant impact on the world.

Like the apostles, and the Avengers, we all have it in us to turn the world upside down—to eliminate poverty, end injustice and make the world a better place. But we can’t do it on our own. It requires a team effort like nothing any superhero flick could ever portray.

Perhaps that’s why superheroes so easily capture our imaginations. They represent a God-planted desire in our hearts to make a difference and save the world. We may not have superpowers, but we do have a real, living God on our side.

Now that’s epic!

Since bursting onto the PGA stage in 2006, Bubba has always received acclaim for his long drives—he led the PGA Tour that year in driving distance (319.6 yards)—but critics accused him of being too creative and trying to do too much with the ball. With no professional training, they thought he didn’t have what it took to win a golf tournament.

Bubba proved them wrong by winning the Masters golf tournament in 2012, the Travellers Championship in 2010, the Farmers Insurance Open this past January and the Zurich Classic in May.

“The Bible says if you’re trying to be Christlike, it doesn’t matter what others say; you don’t need to worry about that. I knew if it was God’s plan for me to be on the PGA Tour, He would help me do it. It’s been working out so far and it will until He has a different plan for me. I just need to believe in Him.”
But a shadow hung over his achievements on the course.

A Caddie’s Ultimatum
Bubba’s temper was infamous. He was known to curse and throw clubs when a shot misfired and he even yelled at fellow golfer Steve Elkington during a tournament in 2008 for walking during his backswing.

His anger on the course was so out of control that his caddie told him if he didn’t calm down, he would quit.

Caddie Ted Scott’s ultimatum was the turning point for Bubba. Where many a golfer might have continued down that self-destructive path, Bubba took stock of his life. A good caddie is key to any golfer’s success and Bubba never considered letting him go.

“I knew I was acting immature between the ropes,” Bubba says now. “I was having fun off the golf course but I wasn’t happy on it. For him to say that to me, knowing he might be walking away from a steady paycheque, that hit home. I knew he was right, and I had to come up with a new mindset.”

The fact that Ted was a fellow Christian, as was Bubba’s wife, Angie, and his trainer, Andrew Fisher, was no small consideration, either. “My team believes in the same thing,” he says. “I wasn’t setting an example to them, or to my fans.”

Having Fun
Bubba knew he couldn’t control his anger on his own.

“I’d get so frustrated, because I have this competitive fire going on the course,” Bubba explains. “So I reread my Bible. I realized after a close examination of people like Abraham, King David
and the Apostle Paul that we all have setbacks, but God doesn’t give us any more than we can handle. The Bible is my mental coach now. And after discussions with different pastors, I’ve figured out that’s what works best for me.”

Bubba’s tantrums have been replaced by what many have termed Bubba Golf. Sports Illustrated has called him “golf’s ultimate feel player.” Tom Edrington of The Bleacher Report defined this mentality as “go for it, forget about all this mechanics stuff and just play some golf.” And golf great Nick Faldo has said, “Bubba just sees a shot and manufactures it. Nothing technical.” Bubba agrees with them and adds, “I don’t worry about what anyone else is doing. It’s just me having fun.”

Winning With Purpose
The flip side to the fun-loving Bubba is the serious Christian concerned for others. His Twitter profile reads, “Christian, husband, pro golfer who enjoys giving back to help others grow in life!” The charities he supports include Birdies for the Brave, a military outreach initiative supported by the PGA, The First Tee of Northwest Florida, an organization that promotes character development in the young, and the Ronald McDonald House in Pensacola, Florida.

“It’s an honour to help the organizations I am a part of, so winning those tournaments in January and May helped me keep helping,” says Bubba. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m competitive and I play to win but the most important thing is being able to help those in need.”

“There’s a deep bond between spirituality and the world of classical music,” declares world-renowned conductor, composer and musician Bramwell Tovey. “The music is full of expressions of faith and Christian doctrine, which is frequent inspiration for whatever I do. For example, the song Lo He Comes With Clouds Descendin’ is so brilliant. It’s perfectly harmonized and gives you such a thrilling feeling. You can’t truly hear this music without a deep sense of faith, and faith plays a big part in my life.”

Music in the Family
So does The Salvation Army. Bramwell’s family have been active members of the church for five generations, and he himself was named after Bramwell Booth, the son of co-Founders William and Catherine Booth and the Army’s second international leader. Bramwell’s great-great-grandparents and his great-grandparents actually heard William Booth preach back in the 19th century, and his grandparents were pastors.

“I started listening to music at a very early age,” says Bramwell. “Everybody at home played an instrument or sang in a choir.” And his maternal grandfather and father were in The Salvation Army’s International Staff Band (ISB), he adds. “I started as a second baritone player for The Salvation Army as a teenager and graduated to the tuba. Since then, I’ve conducted and played with the ISB several times. I learned a lot of my musical standards from The Salvation Army. They have phenomenal musicians and many are still good friends of mine.”

Bramwell also served on the Salvation Army Advisory Board in Manitoba for 10 years when he was the music director for the Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra in the ’90s.

“There’s a lot of very high-quality music-making in The Salvation Army,” he says.

Breaking Down Barriers
Although Bramwell played a variety of instruments while growing up, his fascination wasn’t with the musicians but with the conductor.

“I found the concept of musical leadership very interesting,” he remembers, “a single baton leading and directing the entire band. From a very young age, I thought, How is it possible that one person can lead a group like that? I saw that you lead by example and by empowering the people beneath you. It’s a huge responsibility to know you’re conducting this group and that you’re responsible for both their well-being and for the success of the concert.”

From The Salvation Army, he not only learned how to lead music but also how to work the stage.

“When I was growing up in London, England, we had a wonderful pastor, Marcus Brown,” Bramwell remembers. “He was a fantastic speaker and had a habit of lacing his sermons with side-splitting jokes. I’d listen to his sermon and he’d throw in a joke to make me want to listen even more carefully.”

And so Bramwell discovered the key to keeping people’s attention. After performing at the Royal Northern College of Music in Manchester in 2007, he served as principal guest conductor to the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s Hollywood Bowl summer concerts from 2008 to 2010. When a rare rain began to sprinkle his audience, he quipped, “I could have stayed in Manchester for this!”

“I find humour breaks down barriers,” he says. “Bringing a smile into a conversation raises the tone of communication and the level of trust. In introducing concerts, conductors tend to get a little stuffy. Granted, there is a level of virtuosity to classical music but even so, the people in the orchestra are human beings operating at intense levels. Humour helps them relax and lose their tension and stress. That’s part of my job as a conductor, along with welcoming the audience.”

“One Person on the Podium”
Bramwell has conducted concerts all over the world. He is the artistic director of the National Youth Brass Band of Great Britain, music director of the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra and conductor for the Summertime Classics series of concerts with the New York Philharmonic. He seamlessly goes from leading one orchestra to the next.

“When I was younger, I didn’t know the orchestras like I know them now,” he says. “I remember how terrified I was
of my first concert in New York City. Conducting orchestras I don’t go to very often can be stressful, like when I go to Australia. It’ll be just me, one person on the podium, looking at all these talented musicians with different degrees, diplomas, doctorates and reputations. You just have to rely solely on your integrity, talent and hard work.”

Deep Bond
Bramwell comes by those traits honestly, as his father played in a Salvation Army band right up to the last weekend of his life.

“My father passed away when I was 15,” he says. “The band was so important to him. The worship and the way the music was presented as part of the church service was a crucial part of what he was as a person. And what he thought of all that rubbed off on me. Recently, I played at a Vancouver church as a guest. Just as my dad taught me, I played the hymn with the hymnal open in front of me so I could follow the words and reflect them in the song. Great hymns such as Come Thou, Long-Expected Jesus are played differently when the words phrase the music.”

He fondly recalls playing the piano at the end of his 91-year-old mother’s funeral last June. She’d insisted ahead of time on a Salvation Army funeral and on being buried in her Army uniform, complete with the traditional bonnet.

“A friend of mine played the piano for the service,” he recalls. “Then my sister said to me, ‘Why don’t you play when Mum is taken out?’ So the cornet player and I played my mother out of the hall to Blessed Assurance. I had never played the song before, but I read the words as I played and they were so beautiful: ‘This is my story, this is my song, praising my Saviour.’ That was her story. It is now one of my favourite hymns.”

Bramwell is forever grateful to God for all the elements in his life that led him from an ordinary family in the East End of London to enjoying a successful career spanning more than 30 years, with no end in sight. But he will always credit The Salvation Army for allowing him to fully explore his talents at, first, playing a variety of instruments, then composing, then conducting.

“The Salvation Army is my religion,” he states proudly.

As he hustles about the kitchen making last-minute tweaks to the main courses, Jay Barnard doesn’t seem out of place among the other chefs and sous chefs in the Delta Hotel’s kitchen in Ottawa. Yet this man had once bought and sold drugs, and was arrested and incarcerated.

Out of Control
Jay Barnard’s story of addiction goes back to the age of eight. Unable to cope with his parents’ divorce, he turned to food for comfort. Within months he had bulged to a disturbing 200 pounds. By the time he was 12, Jay was drinking. At 14, he bought marijuana. It wasn’t long before he was using harder drugs.

“With no fear of being arrested or ripped off, I was scoring drugs on the street,” Jay recalls. “Getting high gave me a brief escape from my overwhelming feelings of sadness, confusion and abandonment.”

Eventually, the consequences of drug abuse and addiction became worse than the original problem Jay was trying to cope with. At 18, Jay was expelled from school for selling drugs. He was also jailed for stealing a truck—busted with $13,000 worth of marijuana in his possession—and then incarcerated for driving while under suspension.

In an attempt to create a new life, Jay left Kenora, Ont., a small community northwest of Thunder Bay where he had grown up, for Sudbury, Ont. He found a job selling everything from trinkets and toys to kitchenware and computers. He soon became a top salesman. His door-to-door expertise took him with the same company to Toronto, Oshawa and Hamilton, Ont.

But Jay was too weak to overcome his addictions. His appetite for crack cocaine increased and his addiction now included highly addictive heroin.

Following a promotion, Jay moved to Barrie, Ont. He created a business that soon crumbled due to his cocaine binges. Devastated financially and psychologically, Jay ingested a hazardous amount of unfamiliar pills, but after a brief hospital stay, he was back to drinking whiskey and taking crack.

Jay returned to Kenora and became a cook’s apprentice at a hotel. It wasn’t long before he was arrested for assault while trying to claim a drug debt. He was fired and thrown in prison.

“Jail was always safe for me,” explains Jay. “I had no bills to pay, I was fed and clothed—no worries. But this time, it was different.”

Now 27, in a moment of clarity, Jay reflected on the mess he was in. He’d put the need to use drugs above everything else, including important relationships. He knew he had to get clean.

Following his release, Jay detoxed. Soon after, he enrolled in The Salvation Army’s Anchorage Addictions Program in Ottawa. The residential, four-month, abstinence-based treatment program for chemically dependent men saved his life.

Recovery
“When I came to Anchorage in February 2008, the staff accepted me and always had an ear to listen,” says Jay. “They wanted me to get better. For the
first time in decades, I felt cared about.”

Overcoming addiction wasn’t easy for Jay, but the Salvation Army facility provided him with the structure he needed to live a sober life and transition back into society and employability.

Now things are happening that Jay never thought possible. He enrolled in a cook’s apprenticeship program at Ottawa’s Algonquin College and graduated in 2009. He is third chef at the Delta Hotel in Ottawa and is also working part-time at the Westin Hotel in town. This past month, Jay celebrated four years of sobriety.

Jay, who now brands himself “Chef Recovery,” uses his recipes to describe his journey. “I take words that meant something during my recovery and match them with appropriate food,” says Jay. “My dishes have catchy titles like Chef Recovery’s Addictive Chocolate Delight, Jay’s Forever Sobering Apple Slaw Shrimp and New Beginnings Sweet Chili Crusted Cornish Hen. They help me remember where I came from.”

Insidious Journey
The first chapters of my life were quite ordinary. Born in Winnipeg to loving parents, I lived in a good neighbourhood and attended a great school. I held down a fantastic job with a bus company and was doing very well for myself.

But a job-related back injury led to me becoming addicted to prescription medications. I tried keeping things together for years, but eventually the repeated hospitalizations for my overdoses took their toll and things fell apart. Treatment centres and detoxes couldn’t help me. In short order, my marriage to a wonderful man collapsed and my children were taken away from me—one to live with my ex-husband, the other to live with his grandparents—because they needed better care than my debilitating addiction could offer.

I thought I had hit rock bottom, but I was wrong. At a bar one night, where I would often go to forget how good my life had once been, someone introduced me to something far worse: cocaine.

Cocaine was insidious, slowly but surely leading me down a path I’d never imagined myself on. My home became a den of thieves, and I was too high to notice. I squandered a large inheritance, too numbed to care. I lost my home and my possessions. I used and abused people, and I was an outcast to my family. My children were strangers to me. I didn’t care. All that mattered was my next fix.

This went on for 15 years, and ultimately led to a prison term for trafficking and possession.

While I was waiting to be sentenced, something happened to me that was totally unplanned and unexpected: I started drying out. Incarceration does not lend itself to alcohol, drugs or cigarettes. While the withdrawal process from prescription drugs wasn’t physically easy or painless—I was deathly sick for three months as my body went through detoxification—the mental withdrawal from my three drugs of choice was in many ways even worse. But I came out of it clean for the first time in almost two decades. With that new sense of well-being came a vague conviction that I couldn’t go back to my old life.

Without Shame
It was during my incarceration that I noticed a fellow inmate walking around with her name embossed on a Bible. Despite the fact that I had nothing, that I was a dried-out husk, a physical, emotional and mental wreck, I was still vain enough to want to see my name in print, too!

There was a catch, of course. In order to get my own personally embossed Bible, I had to complete correspondence courses. And that began a new chapter in my life.

With a determination I didn’t know I had, I set to work. With the exception of the prison chaplain, I segregated myself from the rest of the prison population. When I wasn’t required to be outside my cell to eat and exercise, I confined myself to my bare cell. At first, I was only reading the Bible with the aim of acquiring my own embossed copy, but the more I read, the more I wanted to read and soon I was pestering the chaplain for more Bible material from the prison library. I even started listening to Christian music on the little radio I had, a far cry from the heavy metal I used to love.

I wasn’t really aware of the change that was coming over me until one dark night in late 2008, alone in my cell. The more I started seeing the good in me, the more I was tortured by my past, by all the rotten God-forsaken things I’d ever done to my friends and family. I was disgusted with myself. How could God ever love a sinner like me?
At that moment one on my favourite songs entitled More Beautiful You by Jonny Diaz started to play. And I listened to the lyrics:

There could never be a more
beautiful you
Don’t buy the lies, disguises and hoops, they make you jump through
You were made to fill a purpose that only you could do
So there could never be a more beautiful you, more beautiful you

Something clicked. I was still filled with remorse but I was also overwhelmed with gratitude. I finally understood God’s grace, and I had no shame anymore. I believed.

“There is Hope”
I was released from prison in January 2009. Before my release, I had wondered what church I should attend once I got out. Inside, I’d noticed a calendar printed by The Salvation Army’s correctional and justice services so I contacted Major Margaret Bailey. After a stay at a transition house, she arranged for me to attend a Salvation Army church in my hometown of Penticton, B.C. I was introduced to the pastors, Majors Maurice and Dianne Davis, who welcomed me to the church service. I attended the first Sunday out of prison, and I’ve never stopped.

Their immediate and unconditional acceptance was exactly what I needed. With their approval, I threw myself into volunteer work at the food bank. After years of abuse, it felt wonderful to do something I felt great about.

The Davises made sure that I was included in church or community events. Giving my time and energy for the good of the community was a new way of living for me.

After a year, The Salvation Army held sessions for those interested in becoming official members of the church, and I enthusiastically devoted myself to the course work required. Who attended the graduation ceremony? My entire family, who had forgiven me of my sins, just as God had.

Life isn’t without its trials but for those who despair, I do have an answer. No matter how dark your own prison cell may be, there is hope and there is a future—one with your name on it.

But while that can be a lightly spoken phrase for some couples, Rick and Lezah knew exactly what they were promising. Among other health conditions, Lezah suffers from multiple sclerosis (MS), rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia and diabetes, while Rick has cerebral palsy, osteoporosis, two inoperable, benign brain tumours and vision impairment.

“I take my marriage vows seriously,” says Lezah. “Rick and I are supportive of each other and we also have faith. Any time I run into something that’s too difficult for me to handle, I give it to God. He takes it away from me and I don’t have to deal with it anymore.”

Soul Mates
Although Rick and Lezah fell in love on their own, there was some behind-the-scenes matchmaking at play. Lezah’s mom, Hazel Jordan, attends the Salvation Army church in Guelph and met Rick, a fellow Salvation Army member who was living at St. Joseph’s. Hazel told Rick that her daughter was about to move into the centre and asked him to look out for her. Meanwhile, a retired Salvation Army pastor, Major Raymond Piercey, also requested that Rick take Lezah under his wing.

“I was told by the recreation director to go to a group at St. Joe’s for younger adults, called Younger Generation,” recalls Lezah. “I was introduced around the room and when I got to Rick, he said, ‘You’re the one that Major Piercey and your mother told me to look out for.’

“Rick says that day is the day he fell in love with me and I pretty much did the same,” she continues. “It was love at first sight for both of us. From that day on, we were pretty much inseparable, we did everything together. We knew we were soul mates. We fought tooth and nail to get moved over to the new wing in St. Joe’s so we could have a double room once we were married.”

Strength and Patience
Rick and Lezah exchanged vows at the Salvation Army church in Guelph on January 22, 2011. Their wedding ceremony was officiated by matchmaker and close friend Major Piercey. Among the guests was Lezah’s 17-year-old son from her previous marriage, Jordan.

“When we returned to St. Joe’s after the wedding, our door was decorated with wedding bells and streamers,” smiles Lezah. “We didn’t have a honeymoon, but we’re hoping to save up enough money to go on a cruise next year with a line that offers trips with attendants to help you out as needed.”

“They are a couple who are very much in love. They respect and depend on each other a lot,” comments Major Piercey. “Lezah is extremely strong and patient. Everything about her is positive, in spite of her own health. She’s a wonder to my wife and me in how well she copes.”

Romantic Love
Throughout their courtship, Rick showed Lezah his romantic side, particularly when she was experiencing trouble.

“Before we were married, I was sick for a while and they wouldn’t let Rick in to see me,” says Lezah. “A couple of times a day, he would sit in his wheelchair outside the door, talk about his day and tell me he loved me. He knows I like stuffed animals so he bought me a little golden retriever puppy and said, ‘You can’t give me a hug, but you can give him a hug.’ ”

The inseparable couple faithfully attend Younger Generation on Tuesday nights and share their love of singing by performing duets at St. Joseph’s Wednesday night sing-alongs.
“We also have a little routine where we go down to the coffee shop twice a day,” says Lezah. “In the morning, I treat, and in the afternoon, he treats.”

Living Out Their Vows
A few months after their wedding, Rick endured a bout of several seizures, leading to short-term memory loss. Lezah softly explains that after his first seizure, he did not remember her for a few hours. The memory loss also meant that Rick could not recall his wedding day. However, after months of heartache and prayer, Rick miraculously awoke one morning, his mind flooded by years of memories he and Lezah thought had been lost.

Despite this recent challenge and their numerous disabilities, both Lezah and Rick have incredible strength and a positive spirit, something that flows out of their love for God and their love for one another.

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” says Lezah, quoting a Bible verse from Philippians 4:13. “Jesus has helped me through all the trials of my life, not the least of which is MS.

“Recently, someone called me an angel because of the way I look after Rick,” she continues. “But any wife in this situation would look after her husband the way I do. I don’t think I’m doing anything over and above what a normal wife should do. I simply love this man with every ounce of my being.”

What an odd request! a panicked Carol thought. Are they going to fire me and ask me to haul away all of my things? The separated mother of two was already depressed as the Christmas season approached and had thrown herself into her work as a way of filling the void. What would she do now? Obediently, she backed the car up to the front door and was told to open up the trunk.

What happened next was something she will never forget.

Heartbreak
Carol had been working in the social-service sector ever since she had graduated with a degree in sociology and anthropology in 1989. For three years, though, she had been the sole breadwinner to put her husband through college. She thought they were living a middle-class dream.

In short order, however, her marriage broke up and she lost custody of her daughter and newborn son.

“Whenever I talk about that time, I say that heartache came to visit,” smiles Carol through her tears. “It was very traumatic for me. I’d taken sick leave—my son was a twin and I had lost his brother in pregnancy—and losing custody of the children broke my heart.”

A Trunkful of Hope
Alone and despondent, Carol still felt a desire to be useful. But what to do?
Carol contacted the Dundas, Ont., branch of The Salvation Army’s family services office in late December and offered her services. With her background, she was engaged to do a research study on shelters.

But with next to no income, limited access to her children and Christmas coming, Carol was at one of the lowest points in her life. “My life as I knew it had ended and I seemed to be marking time, with no hope and no future,” she says now.

That’s when her Salvation Army supervisor asked her to back her car up to the church door.

The pastor signalled inside and, one by one, staff and co-workers came out with bag upon bag of groceries and piled them into her Volkswagen— enough food for her to get through the holidays, and then some.

“It’s hard to receive that kind of love,” Carol admits. “But at that time, there wasn’t much in the cupboard, so I couldn’t decline it. I was immensely blessed by that act of kindness.”

Later at home, a grateful Carol thanked God.

“If you can help me clean up the mess I’ve made of my life,” she prayed, “I’ll serve You and The Salvation Army all the days of my life.”

A Family Reunited
Carol eventually went back to work full-time. Not long after, work colleagues approached her to see if
she could develop a family shelter program for the Oakville, Ont., Salvation Army.

“It was the opportunity of a lifetime for me,” she says, “and the answer to prayer. God used that work to heal me and be a blessing to others in the midst of my losses and trauma. Thanks to God and the Army, I put my life back together again.”

Carol is now a member of the Army and is the director of two Salvation Army shelters in Oakville. Her daughter is pursuing her university studies, and her son will soon join his sister when he completes high school.

“God’s love never fails,” says Carol. “Helping hurting families and journeying with them through their brokenness was something I could relate to. I could understand their circumstances because I myself had been impoverished.”

Willing Hearts, Helping Hands
When asked for a story of someone helped during the holidays, as she had been, Carol thinks of Marie, “a spectacular lady with two boys to look after.”

Despite limited mobility and income, Marie was determined to stay in the community where her children had been raised. Her hope was to have a home for Christmas, but Carol was unable to find affordable housing for her and her family as Christmas loomed.

After another fruitless day of searching, though, Carol told Marie, “Don’t worry. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but God will provide.”

“I can’t say what prompted me to promise that,” continues Carol, “but the next day, a housing provider stepped up and made a dwelling available for the family, and Marie was granted the housing subsidy they needed.

“It was a miracle,” smiles Carol, “but this is just one of the many miracles I’ve seen since I started working with The Salvation Army.”

But miracles don’t happen on their own. It also takes contributions from caring, committed people all over Canada, especially at Christmastime.

“God uses willing hearts and hands,” says Carol, “and everybody has an opportunity to give. However much or little you put in the Salvation Army Christmas kettle makes a huge difference in the lives of those we help. The Salvation Army is a voice for those who have none, and each and every donor plays a part in the good work that we do.”

Before I could answer, my son replied, “The sign says, ‘Will work for food.’ That means he’s hungry but he doesn’t have any money, so he wants to do some jobs for people to get some money.”

“Can he do a job for us, Mommy?”

“We don’t really need any jobs done, Honey,” I said.

“But he’s hungry, Mommy,” she insisted. “And aren’t we on our way to lunch?”

“We could pick up an extra burger and give it to him,” my other daughter added.

“That’s a great idea,” I agreed.

When we got closer to the man, I rolled down my window and said, “My children and I are going to lunch. We’d like to get something for you.”

The man grinned widely. “Oh, wow, ma’am, that would be great!”

“We’ll be back in half an hour,” I promised.

“I’ll be here,” he said.

Missing Person
I drove to the fast-food restaurant and ordered our food, including a couple of sandwiches, a drink and a dessert for the man. The kids and I ate quickly, excited to return the food to him.

But when we drove back to the intersection where he’d been, he was gone.

“Where is he, Mom?” the kids asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. We drove around for a few minutes, hoping to see him, but we didn’t find him at any of the neighbouring intersections either.

“It doesn’t make sense,” one of the kids said. “His sign said, ‘Will work for food,’ but we were just going to give him some food. Why wouldn’t he wait a few minutes for it?”

“I don’t know,” I said again.

“If he was really hungry, and we were offering to give him food for free, I would think he’d be here to get it,” my son said.

“I know,” I replied, “but people turn down free gifts all the time.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” the kids said. “Why would someone not want a free gift?”

When we arrived home, the extra sandwiches went into the trash—along with my attitude.

Time for a Change
Over the next few months, every time I saw a person standing on a street corner holding a sign, I remembered the wasted food and the rejection of our kindness. When faced with their need, I’d avert my eyes and pretend that I didn’t see them. They would probably use the money for drugs or something to drink, I reasoned. My heart had become hardened.

One day, the kids and I were running errands and they pointed out a woman on a corner, holding a sign. I refused to look, but the kids read her sign out loud: “Have three young kids. Homeless and hungry. Please help.” And at the bottom of the sign was a Bible reference: Matthew 25:40.

“Hey, I know that verse,” my youngest daughter said. “It was our memory verse in Sunday school last week.” It says, “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of Mine, you did for Me.’ ”

I remembered the passage well. In it, Jesus was separating the sheep from the goats. In other words, He was separating those who followed His command by feeding and clothing people in need from those who didn’t. To those who cared for others, Jesus offers an inheritance, an entire Kingdom.

I felt tears spring to my eyes as I was forced to face my own self-righteousness. In Matthew 25:40, Jesus offers us the chance to do something for Him. As a Christian, don’t I pray and ask Him to show me more ways to serve Him? And yet, I drove past the many opportunities He’d given me, often without giving them a second thought.

I felt ashamed. I was being offered the privilege of serving God by helping others. Sometimes I knew the people—neighbours or fellow parishioners—but sometimes, they were standing on street corners, holding signs.

It was time to make a change.

Gratitude and Tears
I pulled the car over and opened the trunk.

“What are you doing, Mom?” the kids wanted to know.

“I’m going to give some of the groceries we just bought to that lady over there,” I said. “Will you help me?”

As the kids and I handed the food to the woman, she smiled and thanked me.

But I shook my head. “No, thank you.”

The woman’s smile grew bigger.

I nodded and continued. “I stopped because my daughter quoted the Bible verse on your sign. It reminded me that helping you is the same thing as helping God.”

“Well, we both appreciate it,” she smiled.

We talked for a few more minutes. She told me her children’s ages and I offered to bring some of my kids’ outgrown clothes to the women’s shelter where they were staying. Her gratitude brought tears to my eyes.

The next day, I took the clothes to the shelter. When the woman showed her four-year-old daughter her “new” clothes, the little girl was so excited that she hugged me.

And that’s when I knew that I’d helped myself as much as I did the woman with the sign.

Something to Offer
Norm was born just outside of Prince Albert, Sask.

“I’m a farm boy,” he smiles, “and growing up on a farm was instrumental in my decision to become a healer. I was connected at a young age and in a tangible way to the rhythms of life, death and nature.”

When Norm was young, his father suffered a back injury that left him housebound for a significant period of time. When traditional care did not suffice, he sought the services of a chiropractor, who helped alleviate his pain and increase his mobility. Watching the chiropractor work on his father and seeing the effect was enormously influential for Norm.

“As I looked at what I wanted to do with my life,” he recalls, “I was less attracted to the diagnostic side of the medical equation—ORs and ERs, traumas and dramas—than I was to helping reconnect people to their own bodies, as my father had been helped. Becoming a chiropractor seemed to be a natural fit.”

While pursuing his studies at Toronto’s prestigious Canadian Memorial Chiropractic College, Norm realized that he wanted to do more for the people in his community.

“When I was approached by people asking for a handout,” recalls Norm, “my initial reflex would be to reach into my wallet, but I soon realized I might have something more valuable to offer them eventually: my skills and my time.”

Open Arms, Helping Hands
Norm held on to that dream after graduation, and after a move to Nanaimo and establishing his practice, he felt ready to act.

“Once I had that solid foundation under me,” says Norm, “I started to look outside my practice at ways I could benefit the community. My first thought was, I need to talk to The Salvation Army. I’d seen how the Army was involved in so many facets of the community. Everywhere I looked, at any time of the year, I saw the wonderful work they were doing, how well-established and well-organized they were.”

Norm approached Rob Anderson, the Army’s community services director, with a proposal to start a chiropractic service for his clients.

“I was greeted with respect and trust, which is essential in establishing any new program. It was almost like turning the switch to the ignition of a well-tuned engine,” Norm marvels. “Room was made, a receptionist provided and within that first month, we’d established a booming practice.”

Lives Changed
“Dr. Norm,” as he is called, volunteers once a week for two hours and looks after as many as 20 people in that time. Many of Norm’s clients already use the Army’s facilities, such as the hostel
and the soup kitchen, and range in age from as young as three to as old as 88.

“We’re busy,” Norm laughs. “It’s a nice flow. We have a lot of regulars, and they know the routine. I have two tables set up and there’s no waiting.”

Many of the regulars have become friends. “We’ve become a little support group all of our own,” Norm smiles. “I’m constantly running into them downtown and I’m always thrilled with how well they are doing.”

Because of the Army’s support and Norm’s ministrations, many of his clients have kicked addictions, made life transitions, left abusive relationships, and found the inner courage to rebuild their lives now that they have been freed of years and sometimes decades of debilitating pain.

“One fellow had polio as a child and was in a full body cast right up to his hip,” says Norm. “Despite the best efforts of his doctors, the polio had gone through his hip, affecting the leg’s growth and development to the extent that his right leg was almost a foot shorter than his left. I’d never seen such a severe spinal misalignment. It’s a wonder that this man was still alive.”

The hip itself was completely fused, Norm goes on to say. He was locked in place and his life mirrored what had happened to his body. He’d become a recluse.

“I’ll never forget that first adjustment,” Norm continues. “I was the first person in decades that he’d allowed to work with him. I was able to literally ‘walk’ his spine back into place and transform a six to seven inch gap between the length of his legs into less than an inch in one visit. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

Norm has continued to work with him. Not only has his mobility improved but his life has blossomed as well. He has made friends with fellow clients and is looking at becoming a more productive part of society again.

“People’s spines very often mirror their lives,” observes Norm. “When we can change their spines, their lives start to change, too.”

“Miracles Truly Happen”
Norm hopes that other Salvation Army churches will set up similar operations to Nanaimo. But to do that, people need to step up and volunteer.

“There’s a lot of good in our communities,” he says. “What I see in theory and in practice, both with The Salvation Army and in my professional duties here, is that once people get connected to the potential that lies within them, miracles truly happen.”

Rory was an alcoholic in denial when his marriage of 15 years disintegrated. After the mother of his two sons divorced him, he was lonely, depressed and regretful. A functional addict, he hid his problem with alcohol and continued to operate his business as a journeyman mechanic, building custom-made vehicles for clients.

The Accident
Late one rainy night, after drinking several bottles of beer, Rory’s truck veered off a country road and struck a 30-metre-tall spruce tree. He was on the brink of death as the air ambulance transported him to the University of Alberta Hospital in Edmonton from the small town of Lacombe, Alta.

“The doctors told my family I might not live through the night,” says Rory. “I was in a coma, and a tracheotomy opened an airway to prevent suffocation. Tubes in my rib cage kept my collapsed lungs inflated. I had 10 broken ribs, my left cheek required 120 stitches and all my teeth on the left side were knocked out.”

To the doctors’ amazement, Rory woke four days after the crash. He had no recollection of the accident. Nine days later, he went home to his apartment.

Substance Abuse
“For months I was unable to work,” says Rory. “I received disability payments from various sources. I had time and money, which was my downfall. Although alcohol was my drug of choice for more than 20 years, I started using crack cocaine. It was mind-numbing and allowed me to temporarily forget my problems.

“But the drug progressively took over my life,” continues Rory. “At the height of my addiction, I spent $1,000 a day on crack and used for as many days as I could stay awake. Sometimes this would go on for two weeks at a time. At first, money wasn’t a factor. Then my bills started piling up.

“I didn’t care about anything but the drug. I soon lost my home, my business and custody of my teenage sons. When I moved into my parents’ basement, I carried unbearable feelings of shame and embarrassment.”

Rory was raised in a Christian home with supportive parents. They wanted nothing more than to see him sober up and make better choices. His father approached him about The Salvation Army’s six-month residential drug-treatment program in Edmonton, known as the Anchorage. Rory laughed and shrugged it off. “I denied I had an issue,” says Rory. Weeks later, a broken-down Rory called his father and said, “Let’s look at going to Edmonton.”

Although he knew he needed help, the thought of committing to something long-term and leaving his friends was overwhelming and frightening. Rory hopped in his truck and disappeared, trying to run away. He was more than 500 kilometres from home when his cellphone rang.

“It was The Salvation Army,” says Rory. “I chose to give recovery a chance.”

Recovery
“Moving beyond fear and addiction isn’t easy,” says Rory. “Over time, the Anchorage taught me how to manage my anger and sadness. It changed my thought patterns and taught me how to deal with issues. I underwent a major transformation—personally, emotionally, spiritually and behaviourally.”

Rory has been clean and sober since June 2009. He works full-time in food services at the Anchorage addictions centre and has a healthy relationship with his sons.

“Coming to The Salvation Army, cleaning up and learning how to stay clean, has made me feel worthwhile,” says Rory. “I walk down the street with my head held high. Hopelessness is not part of my vocabulary any more.”