Chapter 2 the harvey family
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- DRUG ADDICTS
- FIRST CONVERT FROM THE DRUG SCENE
- CHRISTIAN
- BRUNOS TRAGIC END
- A CITY-WIDE REPUTATION
MR. BORISOVOne of the church members was a Russian born artist named Borisov. He directed the choir and painted the decorative murals on the walls of our youth center, but he couldn't sell enough of his artwork to earn a living, so worked at various jobs. He showed off his nice gun collection at every opportunity, but in reality, he was quite a fearful soul. One balmy Sunday, a Dutch truck driver came into the youth center. He had received an invitation to the Katakombe and decided to check it out. His truck was parked at a tire factory in Linz, and could not be unloaded until Monday morning. He had walked over a mile through city traffic to get to the Katakombe, so I offered to take him back to his truck after we closed. Franz also came along because he was staying overnight at our house. The truck driver slept in his "rig." When we arrived at the factory, I complimented him on his new Volvo truck. It was after midnight, but the truck driver invited us to take a closer look and we gladly obliged. He showed us the motor, the spacious sleeper and even started the engine for us. Suddenly, two police cars with flashing emergency lights roared into the factory entrance. Within seconds they had us surrounded with guns drawn. We had to stand with our hands up facing a wall while they frisked us for concealed weapons. After showing our personal credentials and doing a lot of explaining, we were able to convince the police officers that we were not criminals. One of the policemen walked over to the guard house and called to a night watchman, who had been hiding under a table. When the watchman got nearer, he suddenly blurted out, "Ralph! Franz! What are you doing here?" "Borisov!,“ I explained, "I didn't know you worked here!" The policemen looked at each other and then at us, "Do you two know each other?!" I probably shouldn't have said it, but it just came out. I told them that he was our church choir director and I was the youth leader! Those policemen had something to talk about for a while! DRUG ADDICTSThe beginning of our youth work in the industrial city of Linz coincided with the rise of the drug culture in that city. During the sixties, a few youth from wealthy families gained access to marijuana and opiates and held drug parties for the exclusive few. It wasn’t long, however, before these youth had become hopelessly addicted and their rich parents would or could not supply them with money to support their habits. Some traveled to the Far East where they could get cheap drugs and were never heard from again. A few others returned with quantities of drugs which they sold for an immense profit. As more and more youth became addicted, the drug trade increased accordingly. Kids on drugs could only support their habit by dealing, which resulted in more addicted kids. City authorities became alarmed as the drug trade took on epidemic proportions. Soon tons of drugs were being transported through Austria, destined for other European cities. When the police set up checkpoints, word spread and the hot ware was simply dumped in Austria for bargain prices. During the seventies, our street evangelism brought us into direct contact with many of these addicts. FIRST CONVERT FROM THE DRUG SCENEBruno's father was supervisor in a large nitrogen plant. After his parents' divorced, Bruno lived with his mother until she remarried, but by this time Bruno had begun taking drugs and couldn't keep a job. His stepfather kicked him out of the house and Bruno went to live with his grandmother. He spent most of his time on the streets, but during the harsh winters, he hitchhiked to Italy where it was warmer. He worked at odd jobs just long enough to support his habit. Bruno didn't use hard drugs, but injected a readily available cough medicine directly into his veins. Austria had socialized medicine and it was fairly easy at the time to find a corrupt doctor who would prescribe large quantities of the stuff. Bruno was exceptionally good-looking, had a winsome personality and a muscular body. He had a reputation as a street fighter and few dared to tangle with him. He had also become adept at trickery and deceit, using his charm to get whatever he wanted. In August, 1971, we held tent meetings in the heart of Linz with a special emphasis on youth. At least 40 youth attended besides our own. On the second to last night, three rough-looking characters disrupted the service with loud talk while staggering around the tent. They were obviously "high." I tried to persuade them to be quiet or leave and two finally left. The third was Bruno. He was carrying a bottle of beer and occasionally brandished it like a weapon. After a while, he sat down and listened. During the meeting, he suddenly dumped his beer onto the ground and said out loud, "I want to be free!" We counseled with him until 2:00 AM before he prayed to God for forgiveness and deliverance. Bruno had occasionally come into the "Katakombe" for free food, and we were familiar with his deceitful ways. He was still high and half drunk when we prayed with him, so I didn't take his "conversion" too seriously. The following evening Bruno came into the youth center sober and asked if he would be allowed to get up and say something. I hesitated, but then gave him permission to speak. Bruno informed the startled crowd that he had become a Christian. The manner in which he made this statement and the language he used was certainly not good “Christianese,” but to guests familiar with Linzer street jargon and who knew Bruno, there was no doubt that something had happened to him! We spent the next week helping him through withdrawl while the youth formed a round-the-clock prayer vigil. He had been using drugs for over five years and gone through the tortuous withdrawl and de-tox procedures eight times. The Linz hospital specializing in drug addiction had a thick file on him. Bruno was an eager learner and was constantly asking questions about what he read in his Bible. After four weeks without drugs, he wanted to get a job. Then, one evening he disappeared from the youth center. The following is an edited account of that incident which was published in our mission magazine. GOSPEL MESSAGE, Nov.-Dec., 1971 " . . . for Jesus, there is no such thing as a hopeless case!" My words rebounded from the seemingly impenetrable wall which separated us in nearly every way except sight. As I gazed into their expressionless faces, framed by unruly, shoulder-length hair, I wondered if there was anything left in this evil world that could shock them, or melt the stone casing of their hearts. A flurry of motion on the far side of the room diverted my attention for a moment. One of our young men was placing extra chairs at a table to accommodate some late visitors. One of them I recognized, and we exchanged greetings before they seated themselves. I thought, "This is great! Erwin is not even a believer, but he has brought at least a half dozen strangers to our youth center. One of them has even been saved." Franz, our chef, appeared to take their orders: "Burenwurst and Cola." A quick glance around the room generated a prayer of thanksgiving within me for what God had done in the city of Linz. Just five months ago, this room had been wasted basement space. Situated two floors beneath the sanctuary of the Baptist church, it had served merely as a storage room. Our youth had, with the help of some of the church members, converted the room into one of the most delightful youth centers I have ever seen. Nearly everything in the room was either a donation or built by loving hands. The eight tables and sixteen rustic, cushioned benches were all occupied and many extra chairs were already full. This has become a common sight. Tonight was "open evening," which meant no special program, yet there they were: dozens of young people who had found their way to our youth center. Members of our witnessing team were leading discussions at several tables: discussions which centered around an open Bible, flanked by half-empty pop bottles, Frankfurters, and brilliant red ceramic tea service. I turned my attention to the two young men seated opposite me. Horst had done most of the talking up until now. Karl had been silent, his eyes unconsciously following the endlessly revolving reels on a tape recorder, which no one seemed to be hearing. Still watching, Karl's lips now moved, "No hopeless case?" Then, turning his eyes for the first time, he looked directly at me with a cynical look on his face. There was no mistaking the challenge in his voice: "How about fixers?" How thankful I was to be able to show him an example of what God can do for a "fixer"! I smiled as I tried to anticipate his reaction, and then asked, "Do you know Bruno?" Cautiously, he queried, "Bruno who?" I gave him the family name and without pausing, I continued, "He hasn't had any 'Stoff' for several weeks now, and will tell you himself that it was all Jesus' doings." His face showed expression for the first time as he muttered, "I don't believe it - not Bruno!" I continued, "If you want, I'll go get him. He's upstairs playing table tennis." Horst and Karl looked curiously at each other as I rose to leave. As I climbed the spiral staircase to the table tennis room, a strange feeling overcame me. "How will Bruno react when he faces a couple of his old friends?" Bruno had never feared any one before. His police record, oversized knuckles and scar-covered body were evidence of that. But how much courage would he have in telling a friend about his new-found Savior? Would he resent my "using him" in this manner? Upon entering the room, I was met by several friendly greetings, but Bruno was not there. I asked, "Has anyone seen Bruno?" Peter, a convert from last year, spoke up, "He left a half-hour ago -- said he was going for a walk." Trying to conceal some doubts, I went out into the moonlit night and looked up and down the street. Bruno was nowhere in sight. Suddenly, I began to tremble as I recalled past experiences with addicts. I remembered the words of a local nerve specialist who stated, "The rate of relapse among addicts who go through withdrawal is 99.9%." Bruno's own words returned to me with full force: "I've been through withdrawal eight times in clinics, and as soon as I was released, went back to the needle." When we promised to see him through the torturous withdrawal for the ninth time, Bruno warned us, "You will have to get tough with me." Our youth had formed a prayer chain. We watched him sweat and pace and fight it out. He could not sleep for more than a half hour without being awakened by horrible nightmares. We prayed. We put a good tape on the recorder and hooked up earphones to help him forget the visions and horrors of withdrawal during those long, sleepless nights. That was now in the past. Bruno had been sleeping well for nearly two weeks. He wanted to return to work. Had we been careless? Could it be that Bruno was gone? "Oh, no Lord!" I prayed, "Please protect Bruno!" I was to pray that prayer many times during the next half hour. Perspiring, I returned to the "Catacomb" to excuse myself. Upon entering, one of our youth approached me to ask if I could drive four student nurses back to the hospital. They had to be in by 10 p.m. and had lost all track of time. Grateful for an excuse to leave, I drove the station wagon out across the city toward the Children's Hospital, my eyes constantly scanning the side streets and pavements, hoping for a glimpse of Bruno. After letting the girls out, I aimed the car into the now deserted business district. Here and there a neon oasis in the darkness illuminated small gatherings of youthful pretenders. The smoke from their cigarettes hung like clouds of incense over their glittering motorcycle gods parked at the curb. Without so much as a glance, I drove on. I knew Bruno would not be there. The "Rosen Stuberl" was the only possibility. The victims who have been seduced and reduced to human vegetables within the portals of this sophisticated queen of Linz nightlife are many. As I entered the bar, a sudden hush spread across the room leaving a dance band in the rear momentarily without competition. The male patrons cast cold stares in my direction as I searched in vain for Bruno. The girls, on the other hand, began making cynical remarks to impress their escorts with their contempt for this intruder from the establishment, and all that he represented. In the car once more, I drove down the street to Shillerpark. About a hundred kids were scattered about; some of them "high" but no Bruno. Not knowing if I should be worried or relieved, I aimed the station wagon in the direction of the "Catacombs." Was I being too pessimistic? Could it be that he was simply visiting an old friend? But who? Where could he have gone without even telling anyone? I set the blinker for a left turn. It was nearly 11 o'clock and the "Catacomb" still had to be straightened up and readied for the next evening. Suddenly, my heart leaped at the sight of two figures in the soft glow of a street light just ahead. There was no mistaking it. One was Bruno! As I brought the car to a halt, I found myself choking back tears of joy. Bruno's left arm was draped across the shoulders of a longhaired boy of about nineteen. In his extended right hand was an open Bible, the one we had given him. Bruno's face brightened when he saw me. He brought his friend over to the car to be introduced. The boy's name was Christian, but he had never heard the Gospel of Christ. He had been "fixing" since he was fourteen. Just a year before, he and Bruno had planned to leave for Istanbul, but Bruno remained in Linz after being denied a passport. When they parted company, Bruno had said: "I know I will never see you again." The road to the Orient is a one-way street for most addicts, but Christian had returned! On this Saturday evening, wanting to be alone, and perhaps even tempted to return to his old habitats, Bruno went for a walk and ran right into his old friend. He had been back for several weeks, but no one seemed to know where Bruno was hiding. He had been living with us. Christian was showing the first signs of withdrawal. His supply of opium was exhausted, and he had put off the last injection as long as possible. He was on his way to inject the last fix and then take his own life. But he gave his life instead to Jesus! As a symbol of his earnestness, he shaved his hair off down to the scalp! Today, Bruno is living with the local Baptist pastor. He has a responsible job, and in spite of his public debts, two illegitimate children to support, and a pending court case for a past offense, he is radiantly facing the future with Christ. Christian has even greater obstacles to overcome, due to his past life, but he is a changed person. He now lives with us and works in a nearby tombstone factory. With hammer and chisel, he forms grave markers, any one of which could have been his own! CHRISTIANWe experienced much joy working with drug addicts, but there was also plenty of heartbreak. Christian's story is a good illustration of this. His father was a prominent businessman in the city and his mother was deeply involved in occult practices. He was artistically gifted and had studied ceramics and sculpturing. Hardly in his teens, Christian began trying drugs and had been on opiates for over seven years when we met him. He spent two years in jail and went through forced withdrawl six times before he came to us. After returning from Istanbul and professing to accept Christ as his Lord, Christian came to live with us. It seemed like he was making an honest attempt to get clean. He had one relapse, but started again with the "cold turkey" therapy. One morning, however, I noticed that familiar starry-eyed gaze and realized that he had returned to the needle. When I vocalized my observation, he denied vehemently, claiming that he merely had a head cold. With no way of proving anything, we vowed to watch him more closely. Christian had gotten a job carving tombstones, but I discovered that he was often missing from work. When I questioned him, he denied it or would give a lame excuse. Verna discovered one of her spoons under his bed while cleaning his room; it had obviously been used to "torch" heroin. When he returned from work that evening, I held up the charred spoon and asked what it was doing in his room. Again he claimed to know nothing about it. I then informed him that if he had been honest with us, we would have given him another chance, but now he would have to find another place to live. Verna and I felt extremely dejected as Christian departed. He found a room and called to ask if I could deliver his belongings. One of his bags had a broken zipper, and I noticed that there were several bottles of Coca Cola inside. I didn't think too much about it until I read in the newspaper weeks later that Christian had been arrested for dealing with heroin. According to the report, he had smuggled liquefied heroin from Istanbul in Coca Cola bottles! His story about "taking one last fix and killing himself," the withdrawl, and even his conversion had been faked! He had tricked us into letting him live with us, and using our home as a safe storage place for his precious heroin! BRUNO'S TRAGIC ENDUnlike Christian, Bruno remained "clean." He stayed out of trouble, got a job and paid off his debts. He also began to pay child support for the children he had fathered out of wedlock. He attended church faithfully and was active in the youth work. About a year after his conversion, Bruno was hospitalized and told by doctors that his liver was so severely damaged from drug abuse that he could not live long. They said that it was a wonder he was still alive! The youth and church prayed and Bruno recovered, but the doctors were still right. A few days later, Bruno was found dead. According to the police report, the cause of death was an overdose of heroin, a drug that Bruno had never used as an addict. I found it difficult to believe and started my own investigation. One of the most notorious drug dealers in Linz was seen leaving Bruno's apartment the day he died. He was also the last person to see a sixteen-year-old girl who died of a heroin overdose. She and Bruno knew too much and had to be eliminated. The police recorded the incident as just one more drug death in the city, but I knew better. A CITY-WIDE REPUTATIONThe city of Linz and government of Austria spent considerable sums of money attempting to help drug addicts. A modern clinic was opened solely for treating addicts but, according to their own admission, the success rate was practically zero. One of the doctors was granted money to travel and research the drug problem in other lands. He traveled throughout Europe and America and discovered that few medical clinics had achieved much success, but a number of church-operated youth organizations were having some measure of success. Most of these were operated by Baptist or Pentecostal churches. He had never heard of these denominations in Austria, but decided to check the telephone book after his return to Linz. He found no Pentecostal groups (they use a different name) but was elated to see a Baptist church listed. He was even more excited when the pastor said that the church had a youth center and worked with drug addicts. He came into the "Katakombe" that same evening with another doctor. The tearoom was crowded and noisy when the two doctors arrived. Most youth were engaged in table conversation and never noticed the newcomers, but Bruno happened to see them come in and called out, "Dr. Bengerser, what brings you here?" Several guests recognized the name and turned to look; the doctor stood transfixed for a moment and then began to greet them by name, "Bruno! Wilfried! Herman! Christian! I can't believe it!" For two solid hours, he listened to his former patients, some of whom had been in and out of the clinic several times, as they shared how God had changed their lives and freed them from drugs. Before parting, the doctor asked if we could take in a 15-year-old girl named Elvira. Our mission co-workers volunteered. It was the first time we took in someone who had neither requested help nor made a decision to accept Christ. Unfortunately, she was soon back in her old crowd and lifestyle. From a letter dated February 15, 1971: Greetings from embarrassed Austria! ...the Alps hide their heads in shame under a very thin layer of snow. The winter sports paradise stands disgraced. For the first time... they are measuring snow accumulation in centimeters instead of meters. The greatest embarrassment was having to cancel a major ski event for lack of snow. Those proud Alps were forced to concede to the American Rockies! The climate of our missionary activities has been equally erratic in recent months...: Pastor Kurti left the church in mid-August At the beginning of September, a couple which has helped with services in Steyr moved to Vienna Several of our finest youth departed - for Bible School, work with Operation Mobilisation, other jobs... By mid- September, we were responsible for nine meetings per week in three Austrian cities and one in Germany Elsa, who has six weekly children's meetings, got a kidney infection. We took her classes for two weeks End of November, we began preparations for Christmas programs Five believers under our charge are seriously ill in November - many sick calls to make! We noticed a strange looking bump on Ricky's leg end of November. December 9th, our 4-year-old entered the hospital for removal of a tumor. Tuberculoses, caught just in time... December 17th, GMU co-workers, the Wiebes returned from furlough. We helped them get a car, rented housing and moved… December 18th, the new pastor arrived in Linz. We helped them get moved in and settled December 20th, Christmas program and installation service; Ralph in charge Many meetings and guests; 16 for turkey dinner on Christmas Between Christmas and New Years, a GMU couple moved to Enns. We helped the Meiers get moved and settled Mission appointed Ralph as Field Coordinator for Austria New Years Eve service well attended The first week of January was "Prayer Week" in Linz. Sixty believers met nightly to pray for Linz and Upper Austria... among them, a poorly dressed migrant laborer and the recently converted Director of the VOEST Steel Mills (largest business in Austria, employing over 50,000). Planning of two evangelistic campaigns in Linz and Enns Purchased a mimeograph machine for $300 and plan a monthly evangelistic youth magazine We are soon beginning an "Evening Bible Institute" in the Linz Baptist Church From a letter to my Grandmother, dated June 23, 1971: “....during May and June we had many guests, about 50 overnight. Verna probably served 200 extra meals.... hundreds of strangers, mostly male and Roman Catholic, have visited our youth center since its opening at Easter.... all visitors are confronted with the gospel... long haired hippies, drug addicts, criminals, drunks, rowdies, educated and cultivated students and workers. Here is a sampling: a 26-year-old engineer in the steel mills, a Yugoslavian migrant laborer, son of the General Director of the Electric Company, a drunken ex-convict, a young man deeply involved in spiritism, a young car dealer with his Muslim wife (also came for Sunday dinner at our house), a "mainliner" on heroin, now in jail for robbery after a police chase in which 40 bullets were shot at the get-away car, the Austrian Judo Champion and all-Europe runner-up. Most of the youth are just ordinary kids off the street, who know all the sports, film and music idols, but have never been introduced to the King of Kings. From a letter to my parents, dated August 3, 1971 Last night I was thrilled to look into the Catacombe... about 50 people there (Monday!) and there was an open Bible on nearly every table with our youth earnestly discussing spiritual matters with strangers... ...an interesting sidelight (to the tent meetings): When we set up the tent, city authorities came by and asked who was responsible. I said that I was and they gave me papers to sign. After they left, I read the papers and realized that I had gotten myself into a dirty job! It read: "Notice has been taken that there are no rest rooms in or near the tent. The undersigned is therefore responsible to remove all excrement from the premises upon conclusion of the meetings." From a letter to my parents, September 8, 1971: People questioned our estimate of 200 visitors in June, so we kept track last month. Since I was gone five days camping with the youth, these figures are for a 25-day month: We had 148 guests in our home, 51 of whom stayed overnight. We served 115 extra meals not counting family. From Easter until the tent campaign in Linz, we had hundreds of strangers coming to youth meetings, at least 20 regularly; but there were only a couple of conversions. The tent meetings were so good, that we are now perplexed as to what to do. We haven't done any inviting and advertising for about two months (since the tent meetings), yet we are over full each evening. A number have been saved, two of them hard-core drug addicts. From a letter dated November 10, 1972 ...we have had a very full summer. Autumn has thus far proven to be no less eventful. Attendance in the Katakombe has remained high-- 50 to 60 youth on weekends, but has dropped back somewhat on weeknights. We praise the Lord that at least 20 of the 30 or more converts this year are still faithful... If all goes as planned, five young couples, who met in the youth center will begin a Christian marriage during the coming months... There have been three baptismal services this year, and a fourth is scheduled... CINDYNot all the drug users who came into the center were male. Cindy was only sixteen and a beautiful girl, but hopelessly hung up on heroin. She had been in and out of rehab clinics and juvenile detention centers, and we had tried on several occasions to encourage her to give her life to Jesus and allow him to change her, but all to no avail. One evening a well-dressed, middle-aged couple entered the "Katakombe" and asked to see "the manager." I introduced myself and ushered them to a table where a youth brought them tea. The husband stated the purpose of their visit: they had only one daughter, who was hopelessly addicted to drugs. The hospitals had given her up as a lost cause, but someone had told them about our center. Was there anything that we could do to help? I asked for their daughter's name, but it was not familiar to me. Then the mother said, "Her friends call her Cindy." I swallowed hard and prayed inwardly, “Lord, should I tell them? “ The woman must have seen by the expression on my face that I knew her daughter and said, "Everything we have worked for all our lives is worthless. We did it all for her and now have no further purpose in life. We have even contemplated committing suicide together!" This was my cue. I looked them in the eyes and replied, "I believe it is you who need help, perhaps more so than Cindy." In a hushed voice in order not to be overheard, I continued, "Cindy told me exactly what you just told me; that both of you have worked long and hard and been materially successful (he held a high position in a large chemical factory and she operated her own boutique). She said that when she really needed you, you were always too busy. When she mentioned this, you told her that you were doing this just for her and that someday she would be grateful." There was silence for a while and tears began to trickle down the mother's cheeks. Cindy's father cleared his throat as if to speak, but remained silent. “Would you like to hear what your daughter said to me about that statement?“ I asked. Receiving no response, I reached across the table and laid my hand on their entwined hands as I continued, "Cindy said that if you were really working so hard to get money just for her, then why didn't you just give it to her?" I shared God's plan of salvation with them and tried to encourage them to trust their lives and Cindy's life into the Lord's care, but they said they had much to think about and excused themselves. I never saw them again. In September, 1971, Cindy came to the Catacombe with a blue nose. She had returned home high and had a fight with her father. He slammed some object into her face and broke her nose! She was afraid her friends would poke fun at her nose and called Bruno. I did a Chalk Talk and a guy was saved (the second Helmut). We counseled with Cindy until midnight, but she didn't make a decision. She did ask for a Bible though, and I gave her a New Testament. Cindy came to the center once or twice more. Bruno was determined to lead her to Christ and we feared she could pull him back into drugs, but she suddenly disappeared. An addict told me that he had seen Cindy in Nepal and she appeared to have aged ten years since he had last seen her. He was one of very few addicts who went to Nepal and returned; most simply vanish without a trace. From a letter dated October 20, 1971: ...our home is a favorite attraction for youth who don't need much of an excuse to visit. All have blessings or problems to share, but no one else seems to be interested. Peter came by yesterday to show us a second-hand motor bike he had just bought. Then Franz came and announced that he had been laid off from his job. He was planning to loaf for two weeks on unemployment until Verna gave him a motherly lecture. He left this morning to look for work and called at noon, to say that he had landed a job! Directory: documents documents -> Concept stage documents -> Concept stage documents -> The great global switch-off documents -> Nonprofit grant application documents -> The Truth about the Rwandan Genocide documents -> Annual InStructional unit plan documents -> Chaos equipment included Download 2.2 Mb. Share with your friends:
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