WAS PRAYING FOR LEO.* "DEAR LORD, YOU know Leo is struggling with life. He's captive to his drug habit, and he desperately needs your power and wisdom to escape the devil's grip," I pleaded. "Be very close to him now."

I finished my prayer with another plea to God for His presence and power in Leo's life. When I finished, Leo stood up and began wringing his hands, blurting out, "How can you love us druggies? We're dirty, smelly, disgusting, and just plain stupid." He punctuated his words with both index fingers pointed at the ground.

"It's very simple, my friend," I said. "You are God's son, and I am God's son. And that makes us brothers, so we have to love each other." Tears suddenly filled his young eyes and he turned to go quickly out the door.

The Merry-go-round of Addiction
As a volunteer counselor at the ADRACare Center in the Sydney suburb of Cabramatta, I was thankful to be able to minister for God to another drug addict who came seeking help to get "off the gig." I had recently moved to the Sydney area to teach at Avondale College. I always hoped that some day I would be able to join a ministry for the down and outs of the inner city. In Sydney, I was delighted to find my church actively caring for the neediest of people right in the heart of this huge metropolis, one of the largest in the Southern Hemisphere.

Here in Sydney, I found that my fellow church members weren't skirting around the issue. They'd had the courage to set up their mission--a drug referral center--right in the devil's playground: the drug capital of Australia. In the very storefront café where drug dealing had once been a routine activity, they had now created a safe haven for the homeless, the rejected, and the addicted. Nearly 100 volunteers, mostly from Adventist churches in the city, keep the center open five days a week.

Simon was a regular drop-in client who, after a few months' acquaintance with the ADRA volunteer staff, began sharing his greatest needs. As with most drug addicts, he had health problems. On this one night, he announced his latest challenge: a terrible case of athlete's foot.

We offered him a new pair of socks. But when he took off his shoes, we nearly fainted from the stench! That night he hobbled out the door with our admonition that he see a doctor about his feet.

The next week he was back sitting at a table looking quite miserable, sipping a cup of hot chocolate from the drink counter. I sat down beside him and started chatting. The conversation became serious when I asked if he'd been able to have a doctor look at his feet. They were worse than ever, he said, and he refused to let anyone see his feet--much less a doctor!

"Just a minute; I'll be right back," I said. I sprinted across the street and down a block to the pharmacy. Consulting with the pharmacist, I purchased some medication and returned to Simon's table.

After repeating the instructions of the pharmacist, I noticed Simon staring intently at me. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Why did you do that?" he repeated.

"Why did I do what?" I was still confused.

"Get this medicine for me?"

"It's very simple," I said. "How could I expect you to sit here and converse with me when I know you are in misery because of your feet?"

His eyes filled with tears, and he started telling me how he would so much like to get off drugs.

Craig was 19. He quickly admitted that he had a major drug habit and couldn't lick it. It had grown to a $100-a-day habit. This was moderate compared to many who easily spend $500-$1,000 a day to buy their drugs. Most addicts are reduced to thievery, prostitution--or worse--to find enough money to support their habit.

I asked Craig how he could afford to pay $100 a day for heroin. "My mother pays for it," he replied. "She doesn't want me to start stealing, because she knows I would end up in prison."

These are the outcasts of Western society--some of the neediest people on earth. Not only are they caught in the devil's snare, but they're rejects of a society that scorns and shuns them. They come to the ADRACare Center to hear a kind word, to see a smiling face.

Frank, a teenager, traveled across Sydney to find help at the center. "I've decided that I want to go into detox," he told me as soon as I sat down at his table. I asked him how he found out about us. He said, "friends told me you help people, and it took me two weeks to get up the courage to come here."

I sensed his determination. He was in his third year of addiction. After putting him into contact with the detoxification center, I asked about his family. "I haven't seen my mom in four months, ever since I moved out of the house." Sensing the importance of his mother to him, I suggested that we try to call her to let her know of his decision to battle the beast.

A middle-aged woman with a pleasant voice answered the phone. I said, "Mrs. Tower, your son Frank is here with me, and he's eager to tell you of an important decision he's made."

"Oh," she said excitedly, "I haven't seen him for four months, and I've been out of my mind with worry."

I quietly left the room while mother and son had their telephone reunion.

Making a Difference
These people who come to the center--the highest count was 200 in one day--are asked to sign in and write down any comments they wish to write. The expressions of gratitude are generous:

"You're the only family I've got."

"I didn't think anyone cared until I met you people."

"You've made my life worthwhile again."

"You'll never know how much your kindness means to me."

Since it opened in 1999, the center has successfully referred approximately 200 people to detoxification clinics. The detox process is painful and scary, and those who make it through then have to battle the habit when they go back onto the city street and meet old "friends" who pressure them to use again.

"If we could only have a rehabilitation center where these guys could go until the drugs are completely out of their systems, we know our success rate would increase tremendously," says the center's manager, David Haupt. "In the meantime, we'll keep opening our doors to minister to these people of the streets."

Update: After studying the demographic outlay and social needs of Sydney, the center's management decided to move it to Blacktown, a western suburb of Sydney. This will allow them to respond to a wide base of needs, which still includes drug intervention, family problems, social and mental issues. In 2003 they were awarded a centenary medal-citation that reads, "Awarded for the Drug and Alcohol Work in Sydney."

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*All names have been changed.

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Allen Steele is assistant to the president for advancement at Avondale College, Cooranbong, New South Wales, Australia. He is no longer a volunteer with the ADRACare street center in Sydney, but the center continues to share God's love with people such as Simon and Craig.