In the heart of Toronto, where the skyline glitters with glass and steel, a different kind of light flickers—a beacon of hope nestled within the embrace of a weathered two-storey church. Here stands Sanctuary Toronto, a place born of compassion and unwavering commitment to the community.
The origins of Sanctuary Toronto begin in 1992 with members of Red Rain, an R&B band that played in jails, church basements and Christian coffee houses to spread the gospel in unexpected spaces. Greg Paul, the band’s vocalist, began building a vision of an outreach ministry to unreached communities in Toronto’s downtown core. After moving into the church building just east of the intersection of Yonge and Charles Streets, with its reddish-brown bricks that emanate a rustic charm, the organization became known as Sanctuary Toronto.
Charles Street has gradually evolved into a paradox of gleaming condos that cost an average of $2500 for a one-bedroom unit, ending at the University of Toronto’s prestigious St. George campus, juxtaposed with Sanctuary’s spacious front yard, where community members gather in circles during cool winter evenings, along with tent encampments settled in the front and rear. As business people and visitors, condo residents and owners roam the street, Sanctuary subtly stands in the corner, providing companionship and warmth to other Toronto residents during long winter nights.
Here, outreach staff tirelessly provide social services to reach community members—some of whom are housed, others unhoused—through life-giving initiatives like community meals, street outreach, a health clinic, an arts program, and Sunday services.
Harsh Winter Realities & the City’s Response
In 2024, Toronto’s shelter system reached record numbers, supporting over 12,200 people on a nightly basis, yet demand still surpassed capacity, leaving over 200 people without a bed each night (City of Toronto). This winter, the City of Toronto’s announced plan to address homelessness includes 530 new shelter spaces and 286 affordable housing units, alongside 218 emergency warming center spots that activate only during severe cold warnings (below -5°C).
Greg Cook knows these numbers intimately. As Sanctuary’s outreach coordinator since 2009, he has witnessed the gradual erosion of urban compassion, creating a landscape where hope is measured in sleeping bags and survival becomes a daily negotiation. The shelter system operates like a cruel lottery. On any given night, the chances of securing a bed often “feels like mission impossible,” Cook says. Hundreds of people don’t even attempt to call anymore, having learned that rejection is the most predictable response.
“In August and September, around 223 to 230 people were calling for shelter beds and being told nothing is available for them,” Cook explains. As the winter approaches, “no” means the harsh reality that they are faced with another night facing frost in the open. “The life expectancy of a homeless person is 50 years. People are suffering day in and day out, just trying to stay alive.” His voice carries the weight of his personal relationships with folks trapped in a system that increasingly values human worth through an economic lens.
For Rachel Tulloch, Sanctuary’s Pastoral Director, plans for addressing homelessness, including the City’s, “feel inadequate at every level of government.” She notes that “homelessness has more than doubled in five years.” One story haunts her: a recently unhoused man, bewildered and terrified, whom they could only help by walking to a coffee shop and providing a gift card.
The challenges of supporting those in need are visible at the local level as well. There are supportive neighbours who bring donations and participate in events like food drives, but Tulloch also recalls campaigns being launched to shut down Sanctuary’s outreach efforts. “These tensions are symptoms of a larger systemic problem. We’re not creating issues—we’re attempting to mitigate them.”
Despite being frowned upon by some of their Charles Street neighbours, the encampments at Sanctuary are not set up by community members’ choice. Oftentimes, they become unhoused due to unexpected circumstances that happen beyond their control. What the front and back yards of Sanctuary provide is an option, a space where they can rest, away from dangers on Toronto’s streets.
Personal Geographies of Resilience
A Sanctuary community member shared her journey walking with the Sanctuary community for the past seven years. Arriving in Toronto after years in Kingston, she was among many to become part of a tent community in Sanctuary’s yards.
Her story is etched with profound loss: her oldest son’s absence, a sister’s remains discovered in 2007, a traumatic separation from her daughters. Yet within Sanctuary’s embrace, she finds more than temporary relief. Here, she is treated as an equal, a human with hopes and dreams navigating a harsh world. Recently, she worked with outreach workers to craft a five-year plan for the next steps of her life, and she has secured appointments to visit medical clinics and connect with counsellors with the help of Sanctuary’s social services. She is doing everything in her power to become the woman she aims to be.
“They help me look after my mental health,” she explains. “They remind me of my strength. They see me when I cannot see myself.” For many community members, this means practical and emotional support. Thursday clinics provide medical care and medication. Counselling services help her navigate grief, explore sobriety, and maintain hope of reconnecting with her daughters.
Sanctuary also focuses on empowering members of the community to find their humanity again. For her, it’s about the expression of creativity. “You know, I used to bake with my kids,” she says, her voice carrying the weight of memory and hope. “Now, I bake for the ones that have even less than me. I share with people outside who have nowhere to go”—a simple statement that encapsulates the organization’s entire philosophy.
In the Friday women’s group at Sanctuary, baking is more than preparation. It is an act of radical generosity. The organization’s kitchen embodies a philosophy that defies traditional social service models. All community members play a part in cooking, serving, and sharing. “Everyone gets a seat at the table. We’re restoring what it means to love one another.”
“If we all had a personal confidant,” she reflects, “someone we feel safe sharing anything with—that would make the biggest difference.” From navigating homelessness to reconnecting with her love of baking, from managing mental health challenges to maintaining hope of reconnecting with her children, she embodies the transformative power of community care and of a person continuously becoming.
Faith, Justice, and Collective Imagination
Tulloch emphasizes that Sanctuary is more than an agency. It is a living, breathing community—a radical reimagining of how we understand care, belonging, and human dignity that transcends traditional outreach. “Yes, we provide immediate necessities—sleeping bags, warmer clothes, meal programs. But more than everything, we’re a community. Everything we do is grounded in relationships.”
Outreach staff members like Tulloch and Cook don’t just connect people to resources; they walk with them through complex systemic barriers as a practice of radical empathy, a collective reimagining of community rooted in faith and a commitment to urban justice. “We’re not fundamentally different from our clients. We all need connection, love, belonging,” says Tulloch.
As winter, with its long winter nights, descends on Toronto, Sanctuary stands as a testament to what community needs: not just shelter, but profound recognition. Not merely survival, but the space to heal, to dream, to become. A survey from the Toronto Homeless Union revealed profound insights. When asked what home meant, women consistently described it as safety—a concept far more complex than four walls and a roof.
“Encourage curiosity and compassion,” Cook urges. “Don’t assume the worst. Think about the cost of housing, the structural factors causing more people to be unhoused.” His message is both an indictment and an invitation.
Sanctuary’s true work is transforming the concept of “home” from a commodity to a fundamental human right. It’s about creating spaces where everyone—regardless of economic status, race, or housing situation—can experience a sense of belonging.
“We need a city that is not just for people who are wealthy and white, but one where everyone can have a home and a sense of connection.”
Read more about the changes around Yonge and Charles in our upcoming issue themed around Yonge Street, to be published in mid-January 2025.
