DRUGS WEIGH HIM DOWN, BUT CHURCH LIFTS HIM UP

Van Haaften Finds Ways To Reach Out

Knoxville, Ia. -- All week long, Marvin Van Haaften thinks about drugs.

They're on his mind all day at work. On the way home from Des Moines
to the farm where he grew up, he drives through Marion County and
can't help but recall the drug raids and arrests, meth labs and deaths.

But it's at church on Sundays that the man in charge of Iowa's
drug-control policy gets to reconnect with a community fatigued by
methamphetamine -- praying side by side with some of the very same
users and dealers he once put behind bars.

"I hate drugs. I don't hate people," said Van Haaften, who took the
state's drug czar post in 2003 after serving 18 years as the sheriff
of Marion County. "I can put the handcuffs on very firmly, but it's
never been my nature to give up on people."

For that, Bruce Crozier is grateful. The 44-year-old was convicted of
making meth four years ago in Marion County when Van Haaften, then
sheriff, helped orchestrate a drug raid at a Knoxville home. Crozier
faced up to 25 years in prison but received a deferred judgment and
was released on probation after spending nine days "drying out" in
Van Haaften's jail.

Two days later, Crozier found Celebrate Community Church, which he
had heard was a "new start" church open to everyone, including people
like him, a self-proclaimed meth addict trying scratch his way out of
the drug's hold. "I'd go to this church, and Marv would always sit
behind me," Crozier said. "I thought it was weird, like, 'Man,
there's that sheriff watching me.' "

In fact, Van Haaften didn't really know Crozier, or some of the other
church members with whom he had crossed paths, however indirectly, as
sheriff. But he had found Celebrate, too, and both men credit God for
bringing them together there. Now Van Haaften serves as Crozier's life mentor.

"I just heard that this little church fit in with my philosophy, not
just as sheriff but on a personal level, too," said Van Haaften, who
drives 20-plus miles each way to be there every Sunday. "Drugs get a
lot of attention (in Knoxville), because they are prevalent. So it's
such a joy to see people getting attention now instead, because of
the church, and responding to that attention in such a positive way."

The idea of Iowa's top drug enforcement official choosing to involve
himself with the drug crisis on such a personal, local level seems
like a dovetail fit to those who know him. Van Haaften may have been
instrumental in the passage of a tough state law that regulates sales
of pseudoephedrine, the main ingredient in the manufacture of
methamphetamine, but he has also been known to give "wake-up talks"
to jail inmates and take teenagers from meth-torn families out to lunch.

"He's a hillbilly living in a suit," Crozier jokes. "He's just real
down-home, real easy to be around. He doesn't care what people think,
because whatever he says, he always backs up."

Said Gary Verwers, who succeeded Van Haaften as Marion County
sheriff: "He's always shown that he can be both tough and
compassionate in this job. It doesn't surprise me at all that he
would try to help others."

Celebrate has perhaps made its most significant mark in Knoxville by
launching a youth ministry that is geared toward the community, said
Bruce Rietveld, a youth pastor whose "Cross-Walk" groups serve at
least 200 middle school and high school students twice a week.

Rietveld, a former meth user himself, said the drug problem has
pushed many kids to the edge, forcing them to live with neglect,
abuse or drug addictions of their own. "It is my sincere belief that
most everyone in Knoxville has been affected one way or another by
meth," Rietveld said. "They either know someone who's messed up on it
or recovering from being messed up on it. And I know for a fact that
when you're on meth, you're ignoring your family. We are reaching
kids here that nobody else could, or would."

Rietveld said his Cross-Walk kids are well aware of Van Haaften's
lofty law-enforcement title but view him largely as yet another adult
they can count on at the church.

Ashley Stursma, a 17-year-old who recently went with Van Haaften and
Crozier to lunch one Sunday, said she has been impressed by how
easily the drug czar can befriend teenagers and impart mutual respect.

"It's just too cool to know someone with that kind of high power in
the state and be able to have conversations with him where he really
listens," said Stursma, whose grandfather once served as Knoxville's
police chief. "Cops sometimes judge people too quick; it's just what
they do. But not Marv. He doesn't care if you've been through some
real ups and downs, he still thinks you're OK."

Van Haaften said he is equally grateful to Stursma and others at
Celebrate who prove true his theory of hope as a powerful healer. "I
love my job, don't get me wrong," he said. "But as much as I have to
think about drugs, it sometimes gets me a little down. My Sundays
always lift me up."