BEEN DOWN THAT ROAD

Reverend, a former addict, knows how to counsel

The Rev. Arnold G. Townsend knows the Bible like the back of his hand,
dresses immaculately in crisp white shirts and sings tenor in the church
choir.

He is a longtime friend of Mayor Willie Brown and is well known to
aficionados of San Francisco neighborhood politics.

But on a recent night at the ``New Hope'' Substance Abuse Ministry in the
Fillmore district, Townsend had a surprise in store for a few of the dozen
or so recovering addicts:

``Let me reveal myself. I caught myself just the other day wanting to get
some dope. I had gotten tired of studying in the morning and praying every
night. My relationship was going bad. It would have been easy.''

``But I stopped myself,'' he said, prompting the crowd to respond with deep
moans of ``Amen.''

``I stopped myself . . . because I had the tools to know myself and stop
the bad behavior.''

The revelation that the man at the pulpit used to smoke crack cocaine
shocked one or two newcomers. But most felt at ease, realizing that anyone
- -- even an associate pastor like Townsend -- can do things ``I wouldn't
want my momma to know about.''

His story is also proof that drug addicts can turn their lives around.

``You were in the gutter, you were doing folks wrong,'' Townsend told them.
``Yes, you f-- up. . . . Those things you did, sure they were messed up,
but you are worthy of salvation. Jesus died for you.''

Townsend, who had an off-and- on drug habit for many years, went through a
time when he smoked ``dope every day, all day.'' He has been clean for more
than a year.

The 54-year-old policy consultant and local radio volunteer now spends
almost every day at First Union Baptist Church, where he takes part in
Bible study, prayer lessons, special programs, and the choir.

On many Monday nights, Townsend -- who works at the church for free --
takes turns with other church leaders teaching drug addicts how prayer can
help them break the cycle of drugs and despair.

The Bible-stomping version of a typically nonsectarian 12-step meeting
seems to strike the right chord with the crowd, made up mainly of the poor,
single mothers and the homeless. Those who cannot afford baby sitters can
bring their children to the meetings.

``Some programs work for people, some don't,'' said program director La
Ronda Smith. ``We feel as Christians, you can't do anything without the
Lord in your life. When the Lord enters your life, you can make recovery.''

A few at the meeting are there to avoid jail time under an innovative drug
diversion program, arranged by Smith and the San Francisco Police
Department. The goal is for addicts to get the kind of counseling and
guidance necessary to break the pattern of drug abuse, which almost always
leads to crime and other problems.

``If an individual has to go to court, or if they've gotten into trouble, I
can write letters to convince the judge we will try to oversee this person
and make sure they come to meetings,'' Smith said.

Townsend knows that a few sitting in the back row probably feel somewhat
captive. But he quickly dispels any notion that they don't have to take
part in reading Bible verses, sharing personal tragedy, and even asking for
salvation.

``Are you just here to satisfy the court? Are you feeling silly because you
can't be trusted to go somewhere by yourself? Are you frustrated because
you can't sleep in your own bed? Then you must ask yourself, `Do I really
want (to change) bad enough?' ''

Most who find their way to the obscure 53-year-old church show that they do
want it bad enough by coming on their own. Among the true believers is
Janice.

``Every time I walk through the streets in the Tenderloin, it's like Jesus
is holding my hand,'' said the 36-year-old woman who spent most of her life
addicted to ``crank, crack, coke, weed and alcohol.''

Shaun, another recovering addict, also praised God for his being able to
quit abusing drugs. But he complained loudly that his wife wouldn't let him
forget his past, and that she was nagging him because he was ``locked up''
in a residential program and couldn't go home.

Townsend knew all too well what Shaun was going through. More than a year
ago, he went through an intensive detoxification program to kick his drug
habit. The temporary loss of freedom, however, is a small price to pay to
gain true freedom from drugs, he said.

``I've been healed before,'' he said. ``But this time, I'm whole.''

Townsend, who was born in Phoenix, spent some time with his grandparents on
their cotton and hog farm in Oklahoma before moving to Los Angeles at 6.

He attended junior college, where he played several sports before the Army
drafted him. After two years in the service, he enrolled at San Francisco
State University and became a ``radical,'' supporting movements led by the
Black Panther Party and the Black Student Union.

Townsend left school before getting his diploma in the 1970s to become
executive director of the Western Addition Project Area Committee. In the
early 1980s, he became a consultant for then-Assemblywoman Gwen Moore,
D-Los Angeles.

He also did consulting work for Mayor Brown's law firm until it was closed
after his election. Last year, Townsend, who has known Brown for 30 years,
accompanied the mayor to China.

Nowadays, Townsend focuses most of his attention on the church. His
mission, he said, is to use his own battle against drugs as proof that the
power of prayer can work.

``When we go through things that we are not proud of . . . and we're sorry
we did it . . . how do we handle that?'' Townsend asked.

``Do we go around feeling guilty? Or do we use that experience to let
people know they are not alone, and that there is life beyond the
screwup.''