Message from the Founders
March 8, 2010
Surrender. That can be a really difficult word depending on which side
you’re on. If you’re the one barking that order to another human
being, then it can feel pretty good because it is some indication that
you happen to be on the winning side. You feel powerful, strong, and
in control.
If you’re on the other side of surrender, and you’re the one that has
to throw your hands up and maybe fall on your knees and bow your face
to the ground, then that’s another story. That can be a lot more
difficult.
When I came into a relationship with God through Christ, I not only had
to learn how to surrender, but I also learned that I had to practice it
– continually. As mortal men and women, we try to gain control of
things and then try to desperately maintain that control because
control brings a sense of security to our otherwise fragile existence.
I have found that I practice surrender by remembering that it is OK to
NOT be in control. I practice reminding myself that I am no more or
less a man when I’m not in control. We tend to think that those who
surrender are weak (sometimes they are if they surrender for the wrong
reasons), but I would postulate that most often they are the strongest
people you’ll ever meet.
I actually believe now that those who know when and how to surrender
for the right reasons are probably the strongest – and healthiest –
people in the world.
There is a church in another state that one of our board members and I
have been “courting” for more than two years now. Our desire is that
we might become a mission partner with this church. Every time we
visit this state (two to three times per year), we make an appointment
with one of the associate pastors who we have formed a friendship with
and try to further the relationship. Recently, this pastor was
reassigned and no longer has the influence with the key decision makers
in the church that he once had. We have been trying to contact the key
decision makers directly, but to no avail.
My friend, Bria,n has taken this task of forming a partnership with
this church very seriously. It has become a personal mission and he is
like a dog on a bone. I just laugh now and tell him to surrender. I
can tell he doesn’t want to. He is upset because he doesn’t feel it is
right for this church to simply shun us and ignore us. But that’s what
they’re doing, and we can’t do anything about it.
When I’m not in control – as hard as I try to be – I have to remind
myself to “Trust in the Lord with all my heart and not lean to my own
understanding.” I must remember to acknowledge God in all my ways
knowing that He has promised to direct my paths (Proverbs 3:5,6).
So, don’t be afraid to fall on the “losing” side of surrender. Throw
your hands up, fall on your knees, and bow low. God is an expert at
promoting those who humble themselves before Him.
Doing my best to surrender,
David
March 1, 2010
Sometimes a dead end can lead to a divine appointment.
None of us like to have our respective journeys interrupted by
blockades or walls or anything that remotely poses a threat to our
intended destination. We are oh so quick to assume that our intended
destination was the right one or that our well mapped-out route in
getting there was the definitely the highest and best.
I was on a flight a few days ago and although my destination (the
lavatory) wasn’t exactly the most noble, for me it was very important.
The risks and threats of humiliation and embarrassment were staggering
if I didn’t get there in time.
I got out of my seat and just as I neared the door to the bathroom the
flight attendants pushed a serving cart across my path and said, “Oh,
sorry, you just missed getting into the bathroom. The pilot is taking
a break and we can’t let anyone up here right now. However, you can go
to the back and use the toilet back there.”
Bummer. A dead end. I thought to myself, “Drats! Just a few seconds
earlier and I would have made it. My journey wouldn’t have been
interrupted and I wouldn’t have been sent on a detour.” I hate
detours. They take time. They can be bumpy. They can be confusing.
OK, they can be downright irritating.
I went to the next bathroom where there was one other person already
waiting and I glanced over to see the flight attendant who had been
serving me sitting on her jump seat. She saw me and asked, “What were
you reading in the Bible?” I had been having my devotional time when I
first boarded the plane and she had seen me reading. We spoke for a
few minutes and she asked me what I did – whether or not I was in
ministry.
I began to tell her about Open Arms and our work in Africa. I then
pulled out a picture of Belle – one of the children who had been on the
streets of Eldoret – and she began to weep. She started crying and
turned her back toward the aisle so that others wouldn’t see her
crying. We ended up talking for about 30 minutes and she was desperate
to make her life count for the Lord and she told me that she has always
dreamed of going to Africa.
Dead ends aren’t enjoyable, but they do sometimes play an important
part of God directing our journeys. In the Bible, in Acts 16, it says
concerning Paul and his traveling companions, “When they came to the
border of Mysia, they tried to enter Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus
would not allow them to. So they passed by Mysia and went down to
Troas.”
Don’t be too quick to get irritated or upset by dead ends. God may be
redirecting you so that you can have a divine appointment.
Appreciating that some dead ends actually result in life beginnings,
David
February 22, 2010
I won’t ever forget the day that little baby Belle came to us from off the streets of Eldoret, Kenya, at only one month old. The District Children’s Officer (DCO) had talked her mother into giving Belle up as the streets are no place for a newborn baby. We got the phone call and 90 minutes later, we had baby Belle in our home. As our other two staff members in the house were already caring for two other babies that we had taken in, Rachel looked at me and asked, “Can we take care of this baby? There isn’t anyone else to do it.” She was right – there wasn’t anyone else to do it, so we instantly became Mommy and Daddy.
When Belle came to us, her little face was broken out in small bumps, her clothes were filthy, and she smelled pretty bad. She had glue bottles shoved up inside each of her pant legs where her mother had hidden her stash of glue hoping that the DCO wouldn’t find it. The first thing we did was to strip Belle’s clothes off and prepare a warm bath. The water was quite dirty when we finished bathing her. For many days afterward, we washed dirt from her ears.
The second night we had her, she began her withdrawals from the addiction to alcohol and glue. Like clockwork, for eight to 10 hours per day (4 or 5 hours in the morning and 4 or 5 hours in the evening) for almost three months, Belle went through withdrawals. She had the shakes, the sweats, convulsions, and inconsolable crying. All we could was hold her and try to reassure her that she was going to be OK. It was terrible to watch as we felt completely helpless. If we could have instantly taken her pain away, we would have both gladly done so in a moment.
There are no guarantees in life that we won’t hurt or be in pain. Sometimes our pain is the result of our own circumstances or our own choices, and then sometimes, like in Belle’s case, it is the result of someone else’s choices. Either way, if you’re going to break out of the cycle of dysfunction and hurt, it is often going to require having to do so by experiencing some pain.
One thing I do know: in the same way that we chose to love a little girl that we didn’t even know and chose to hold her and embrace her through some very painful times, God does that for us. Even as Belle was so young and immature to even know who we were, we still chose to love her and to cradle her toward health and healing. I believe that even though we are sometimes so immature to recognize God’s presence in our lives, it doesn’t negate the fact that He is actually right there to hold us and to carry us through difficult and painful times.
God is a father to the fatherless. He is a shepherd to those who are lost. He is a physician to those who are hurting. He is a companion to those who are lonely. Go ahead and thank Him for carrying you – even when you mistakenly thought you could walk on your own. That’s what faith is all about.
David
February 8, 2010
I’ll never forget the first time I stepped off a plane and onto the continent of Africa. It was January 2002 when I began what was a very long and surreal descent down a set of stairs and onto the tarmac at Jomo Kenyatta airport in Nairobi, Kenya. I distinctly remembering thinking to myself, “Oh my, what have I done?! I’m definitely not in Kansas anymore.”
Bearing Kansas in mind, I suppose I felt like Dorothy stepping out of her house and into Oz. A completely different experience, obviously, but probably the same shock and wonder at stepping into a new world. There’s no way to avoid it when you leave the familiar and immerse yourself into the unfamiliar.
I distinctly remember two people who have come on teams with Open Arms to Africa for whom the shock waves were significant. Both left the comfort of their homes in the West and traveled to Africa to work with us. The first one, Linda, was riding just behind me in the back of our van when I heard muffled sobs as we drove through the streets of Uganda. I turned around and asked her, “Are you O.K.?” She shook her head no and said through her tears, “I don’t know if I can do this.” The impact of what she was seeing through the windows of the van just minutes after we had left the airport was overwhelming her. I encouraged her that she could do it and that it would all make sense within about 24 hours as she rolled up her sleeves to help and pour out love to people like the ones she was seeing outside the van window.
Another traveler, Helen, was overcome with emotion several times as she would visit the Open Arms feeding program in the Kambi Teso slum and as she would work with some of the orphaned children in our Village. I remember consoling her and encouraging her that she, too, could make a huge difference in the lives of the people she was serving even though she found the work a challenge to her own emotions. The biggest source of her struggles was that she had so effectively insulated her own life back home and protected herself from the possibility of any discomfort or pain, that now by coming to Africa the floodgates of reality were crashing against her soul.
Comfort. Ease. Seclusion. Peace. And the desired result from all this, our own happiness, is what keeps us safely tucked away from anything that might just rock our worlds. From anything that might just unsettle our souls. The pursuit of comfort, ease, seclusion, and peace is what we often want and strive for, but it isn’t what God wants for us. The very things that He gave up by coming to us in the form of His son, Jesus, so that we could be helped and healed are the very things that He wants us to give up so that others can be helped and healed. If God had decided to preserve His own comfort and well-being, we would have all been in big trouble. He loved us too much to do that. Linda and Helen, with the power of God’s Spirit inside them animating them, both gave up their comfort and peace – and it cost them dearly emotionally – so that they might extend love to others and make a difference in their lives.
Take a risk and give up your own comfort to help someone else. Your life might suddenly turn from black-and-white into full color.
You’ll survive the tornado when you know Oz is on the other side,
David Gallagher
February 1, 2010
A couple of weeks ago, we received word that a 4-year-old girl named Mary had been identified by one of our partner organizations in Eldoret, Kenya, as an at-risk child due to malnourishment and serious illness. Mary was living with an aunt who was providing little care or food and who didn’t believe in the medical treatment that Mary desperately needed. This organization asked us if we could take Mary into our Open Arms Village.
We said we could take Mary, but when our partner went to get her, she wasn’t at home. Her aunt wasn’t at home either, and we began to fear that Mary had been hidden so that she wouldn’t be taken.
When our staff in the US was alerted, we began to pray. We prayed that Mary would be found quickly and that her aunt would willingly allow us to take Mary in so that her life might be spared and so that she might have hope for a better future.
Well, last week we got word that Mary had been located and that she was in the custody of Open Arms. When we got her she was indeed severely malnourished (with a distended stomach), very sick, and had a severe case of jiggers (small parasites that burrow into one’s feet and lay eggs; the egg sacs grow and become very painful). We learned that both her parents had died of AIDS. The District Children's Office released her into our care and today Mary is living with Peter and Stella (her new parents) and the family of children in Upendo House at our Village.
I am grateful that God answers prayer. We are told in the Bible to ask Him for things in prayer and that He listens to and responds to our requests.
I believe God heard our prayers on Mary’s behalf and that He answered them. God delights in caring for the weak and vulnerable, and I’m so glad that Open Arms can be a small part of bringing health and wholeness to a little girl who has been suffering.
Thank you for partnering with us to change Africa one life at a time. There are many more Marys out there needing our help. Thank you for partnering with us to touch as many as possible.
We all have a name,
David
January 18, 2010
I had been staying in a hotel with friends for a few days last fall.
Early on in the stay, while in the hotel dining room for breakfast, I
ordered eggs Benedictine (the fancy French way of saying “eggs
benedict”). I was fascinated when they came to me with whole English
muffins under each egg. I don’t know what it is with me, but I like my
eggs benedict a bit more flat – like my pillows. Not being used to
having entire muffins under my eggs, I carefully removed them and cut
them in half. I then jacked the ham and eggs back up off my plate and
carefully slid the muffin halves back under my Benedictine delight.
Well, I was at breakfast again the next morning with my friends, John
and Rose, and I ordered eggs Benedictine once again. When the very
nice waiter took my order, I requested of him that I only have one-half
of an English muffin under each egg. He replied that they only come
served with half an English muffin under each egg. I laughed and said,
“Well that’s how I’ve always had them, and that’s how I like them, but
here in your restaurant the other morning they came with full muffins
under each Benedictine mound.” He then laughed and told me that they
had simply served them incorrectly.
About 15 minutes later, here came my Benedictine delight and they
appeared to be quite high again. When I looked closely, I saw that
they again had full English muffins under them. I quickly pointed it
out to the waiter and said, “See – your restaurant is serving them with
whole muffins underneath! Can I get this with just half an English
muffin under each one?” Now, I thought I was being quite nice about it
and I thought that my tone of voice was friendly. I’m sure I was also
a bit excited to prove my point to the waiter that his restaurant
indeed was serving eggs Benedictine with full English muffins
underneath. The waiter, seeing that what he had told me was not true,
quickly removed my plate and whisked it away to the world where eggs
Benedictine are created in order to do immediate surgery for an
apparent birth defect.
No sooner had he left than my friend Rose looked at me and said,
“David! That was quite arrogant! What you just did was awful.” I
looked back at her quite shocked and surprised because in my heart, I
don’t think I’m an arrogant person and I certainly didn’t think what I
did was awful.
We had a somewhat uncomfortable conversation – most uncomfortable for
me – because I was being challenged on how I had spoken and how I had
come across to the waiter. I didn’t think I had spoken or behaved in a
rude manner, but Rose thought I had. So, we spent a few minutes
talking through it.
The interesting dynamic in this situation is that Rose is British and
I’m American. We laugh all the time because Americans are more direct
than many other people groups around the world and sometimes we are
perceived as arrogant because we can be so direct. Rose told me that
had she been in my situation with those failed muffins, would have said
nothing about it and would have simply cut them in half herself just
like I had done on my first Benedictine day. Rose acknowledged that
there are times she needs to be more direct.
I think that in this situation my drive and desire to be “right” must
have outweighed the demands for graciousness. Again, I didn’t think or
realize I wasn’t being gracious, but someone other than me looking on –
a dear friend, no less – saw something that didn’t come over very
well. I knew – as uncomfortable as it was – that it was something I
couldn’t ignore or dismiss, but that it was an observation coming from
a dear friend (who loves and cares about me) that I needed to pay
attention to.
The Bible says in Proverbs 27: 6, “Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses.”
Do you have people in your life who will speak the truth to you – about
YOU – even when it hurts? I hope so. The scripture here in Proverbs
27 is really saying that people who only kiss up to you and never talk
with you about the hard stuff they see in you really aren’t your
friends. I know that the word “enemy” is a tough word, but if your
friends aren’t in your life to help you improve – and improvement never
comes without some pain – then are they really your friends? And if
they aren’t your friends, then what are they?
Thankful for friends who are brave enough to get their files out when the Benedictine muffins cause me to get a bit too sharp,
David
January 11, 2010
I had just taken a shower and was getting dressed when our little
toddler, Diana, who is 17 months old, walked into the bathroom. Now,
Diana’s favorite thing in all the world is to pull out Mommy Rachel’s
tampons from the bottom cupboard and strew them all over the floor.
She just loves doing that. She giggles and laughs as she throws them
around the bathroom floor. Of course Rachel and I think, “Yep, you’d
better enjoy them now while you can because the day will come before we
all know it that they’ll not be nearly as much fun.”
Anyway, on this particular day, as Diana headed for that cupboard,
where, incidentally, I keep my deodorant, I said to her, “Diana, can
you bring Daddy his deodorant?” Now, at only 17 months, I didn’t
really expect her to know what deodorant is, but to my shock and
surprise, she pulled a small travel-size deodorant stick from the
cupboard and toddled over and handed it to me. I really was amazed.
As amazed as I was, I had a thought flash through my mind. The thought
was, “Oh, this deodorant stick hasn’t been used…..I’d rather have the
other stick that has already been opened.” I was on the verge of
telling Diana to take the deodorant back and to ask her to bring me the
other one when I stopped short. I then also thought about taking the
small stick back to the cupboard myself – in front of her little
wondering eyes – to exchange it for the other one, but I again stopped
myself short. Thankfully, in that moment, I had some wits about me to
simply think through what was most important and that was to just go
ahead and use the small, unopened deodorant stick that Diana had
brought to me.
There is no doubt in my mind that this seemingly very small decision,
to affirm Diana and congratulate her for getting the right item and to
not confuse her or send mixed signals by then returning that deodorant
stick only to pick out a different one, was the right decision. In my
heart, I just knew it. You might think, “David, you’re thinking too
hard about this – for crying out loud, Diana’s only 17 months old.”
Maybe you’ve got a point and maybe you’re right, but in that moment, I
think I made the right decision.
The whole point of this story is that I think we all need to be
listening to our hearts moment-by-moment so that we make wise
decisions. I believe that it was God’s Spirit who brought me up short
and caused me to pause and consider my response to Diana’s actions. My
normal David reaction would have been to either have her take it back
to get the “right” deodorant (I qualify the word ‘right’ because it
would have been “right” according to my view, but not necessarily
according to God’s view) or to take it back myself and somehow negate
the affirmation I had already given her. Someone outside of me – God’s
Spirit – had quickened me to make a God decision (which ultimately is a
good decision) and in the process everyone came up a winner. I let go
of a minor, insignificant issue and Diana was encouraged and her
actions were not undermined.
The Bible says in Psalm 32:8, “I (God) will instruct you and teach you
in the way you should go; I will counsel you and watch over you.”
In Proverbs 2:6,9, it says, “For the Lord gives wisdom, and from his
mouth come knowledge and understanding . . . you will understand what
is right and just and fair – every good path.”
Are you poised and ready to change your game plan when the Spirit of
God stops you short? Are you ready to surrender what you would do in
any given situation in order to take a different path when you feel
that sudden prompting?
Pay attention when that little voice inside you urges you to say
something other than what you normally might say or causes you to make
a different decision than you would normally have made. You might just
be adding building blocks that will form the core of who someone will
become someday or alternatively you might unintentionally be tearing
building blocks out that can demolish the core of who and what they’ll
become.
Listening so that I don’t sweat the small stuff – especially when it comes to deodorant sticks,
David
January 4, 2010
The other night, I went out onto the streets of
Eldoret to assist Morris, the director of our feeding program for
street kids. I arrived at the designated location where the street
kids would be gathering only to find a riot breaking out. When I
pulled up, the police were there chasing the kids and whipping and
beating some of them. The kids, in turn, were gathering to taunt and
hurl abuse at the police.
I parked the truck, took a deep breath, and thought to myself, “Oh boy,
here goes,” as I headed across the street directly to where four of the
police officers were standing.
I nicely introduced myself (with God’s help I remained surprisingly
calm and upbeat while all hell was breaking loose around me) to the
officers and explained that I was with Open Arms International. I
explained that I was there for the same reason they were: to do
something about getting the street children off the streets (although
our tactics are worlds apart from each other). I told them about our
feeding program, and I pointed out Morris and asked them to please
remember him and to register it in their minds that he is the leader of
our program. I explained that we didn’t mean to cause any trouble and
asked them if they would allow us to meet briefly so we could feed the
kids.
One of the officers was quite drunk and kept blowing his alcohol breath
into my face. Thankfully, he was nice to me, and along with the other
three, agreed to allow us to meet briefly with the kids.
Once we had the kids reassembled, I got to tell them how much we love
them and care about them. I told them how sorry I was that the police
were treating them so terribly (the police had left by this time), but
I also reminded them that the police had orders to follow and those
orders were to keep the kids from congregating in that particular part
of the town center.
Many of the kids were very upset and terribly shaken – one girl in
particular screamed and cried for some time. After I had gotten them
calmed down, I told them to fight the temptation to allow bitterness
and anger well up in their hearts. I explained to them that if these
two poisons were allowed to fully take root in their hearts, they would
be the ones to ultimately suffer, not the police. I explained that
anger and bitterness – if they continued to feed them – would
eventually kill their souls. I told them that neither God nor I wanted
that to happen.
I promised the kids that we would be working on programs to get them
off the streets if they really wanted to be done with that life. They
clapped and cheered – it was very sweet. I told them that for now,
until we have greater resources to start other programs, we are doing
what we can by simply providing them with a bread roll and a carton of
milk. They were truly grateful. I can’t begin to describe the simple
but profound sense of satisfaction when a destitute, tattered street
kid looks you in the eye and says, “Thank you, God bless you.”
As I’ve had time to reflect on the situation I encountered, I thank God
for His favor with the police that night. I also thank God for His
favor with the street kids that night who listened attentively to what
I had to say – speaking the truth from God’s Word, the Bible.
The whole situation with the street kids seems so hopeless at times and
yet we will continue to do what we can. I am reminded that I must –
and Open Arms as an organization must – encourage myself in the Lord
because otherwise we might easily throw our hands into the air and give
up. It would be easy to surrender to the hopelessness that would want
us to stop reaching out to those kids. I just have to remember the
hope that I see in their faces when we hand them the bread and the
milk. I have to fix in my mind the expressions of gratitude from kids
who live on a mound of garbage.
David, in the Bible, knew desperate and seemingly hopeless times. He
was often tempted to give up. He wrote this in Psalm 13:1-6:
How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide
your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every
day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?
Look on me and answer, O LORD my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will
sleep in death; my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,” and my foes
will rejoice when I fall. But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart
rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, for he has been
good to me.
“Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death.” What a simple but powerful prayer.
What situations are you facing that seem hopeless? Are you ready to
throw the towel in and give up? Ask God to give light to your eyes.
When I’m out with the street kids who have very little hope, it’s their
enthusiasm that one day there might be a way off the streets and it’s
their simple thank yous that provide me with the light to keep going.
Tough and difficult times are part of every human life. It varies
person to person, but we all have them. No one has a free pass from
difficult and sometimes hopeless situations. Just remember: God can
keep the lights on so that death’s darkness won’t creep in to suffocate
hope. Just ask Him to.
I WILL sing to the Lord, for He has been good to me,
David
Silent Night, Holy Night, All is Calm, All is Bright . . .
What a wonderful refrain as we come upon the
Christmas season and I recount for you God’s faithfulness to Open Arms
International, but most importantly, to those we are serving in Kenya
at our Open Arms Village.
In the movie "The Soloist," the lead character – a troubled,
schizophrenic young man locked in the deprivations of street life in
Los Angeles – looks up into the moonlit night sky and says longingly
and earnestly, “I hope the whole world sleeps well tonight.”
That phrase really stuck with me – “I hope the whole world sleeps well
tonight.” It stuck with me because my prayer for that part of the
world we work in – Eldoret, Kenya – is that the people we serve there
would sleep well tonight.
Let me tell you about three of them.
Eight-year-old Rachael came to us from the Kambi Teso slum where we met
her through our feeding program. Her parents both died of AIDS and she
went to live with her grandmother, who forced her to go looking for
food and water at night. Between the ages of 5 and 6, she was raped
two or three times as she was simply trying to survive in the darkness
of night. We are grateful that she is now in our care at the Open Arms
Village. Thanks to your support, Rachael is sleeping well tonight.
Five-year-old Gad came to us after his mother died of AIDS. He
remembers her going in and out of the hospital. Finally, she came out
of the hospital in a box. On that day, Gad quit speaking. He came to
live in our Village and didn’t utter a single word for three months.
Now he is happy, smiling (as you can see), and we can’t get him to be
quiet. Gad is sleeping well tonight.
Twelve-year-old Mercy grabbed her four-year-old brother Robert in a
tight hug after their mother died and, through desperate tears, cried
out, “Who is going to be our Mommy now?” As I spoke to the children in
the Village this summer about our God who “sets the lonely in families”
(Psalm 68), Mercy began to weep. She was crying because she suddenly
realized that God had answered her question by giving her Stella – our
house-parent and now her mother – in our Village. Mercy and Robert,
thanks to your generosity are sleeping well tonight.
As this year comes to an end, we have twenty-six children – and three
beautiful babies – in our care in the Open Arms Village. With the
completion of our first four children’s homes this year, the number of
children will grow next year to between 60 and 70 – all with stories
much like Rachael, Gad, and Mercy.
Can you please help us with your financial support now, at year-end, so
that we can go into the New Year strong and ready to receive the
children who need to know that they are sons and daughters and brothers
and sisters?
When you give generously, the Bible says you, yourself, will not only
prosper, but that you will also be refreshed (Proverbs 11:25). When
you give, it’s not only the children you serve who will sleep well, but
you will too. God has promised it.
Jesus is not only the center of the song "Silent Night," but He is also
the center of who we are at Open Arms International. Ultimately, our
children will sleep well at night because He has healed, and will
continue to heal, the hurts in their hearts. We take every opportunity
to tell them how much He loves and cares for them. We give Him the
credit for giving our children a loving home and family.
All is calm, all is bright……….sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace.
Thank you for your generosity that makes things calmer and brighter for a few kids who desperately need a good night’s sleep,
David & Rachel Gallagher
December 7, 2009
Four-month-old Belinda – we call her “Belle” – was born on the streets
of Eldoret, Kenya, where we work and have our Open Arms Village for
AIDS orphans. When the District Children’s Officer (DCO) called three
months ago and asked us if we could take her in, we readily agreed.
Her mother, a 19-year-old street girl, had multiple opportunities to
get off the streets with her baby, but had repeatedly decided to return
to the streets. The DCO knew that baby Belle’s life was at risk, so
with some persuasion, he was able to get her mother to agree to give
her up. We already had her 3-year-old sister living in our Village and
no one wanted to split the siblings up. However, as an infant, she
couldn’t immediately live in our Village. With one family at the
Village having 14 children, and the other family having 12, the
difficulty of caring for an infant would be overwhelming to our
house-parents.
So, with nowhere else to go but to the house where Rachel and I live, I
immediately became “daddy” David. Unfortunately, because Belle’s
mother was addicted to alcohol and glue (street kids sniff glue not
only because it puts them into a hallucinated state to forget their
troubles, but also because it reduces the severity of their hunger
pangs), Belle was also addicted and had some detoxifying to do.
The first eight weeks or so with Belle were extremely difficult as
Rachel and I just held her and cuddled with her as she went through her
withdrawals. The convulsions, sweating, screaming and crying were
almost too much to bear. As much as our hearts burst with empathy and
compassion out of our love and care for her, we couldn’t imagine how we
would feel any differently even if she had been our own biological
child. We prayed a lot for her as we took turns holding her close
during those painful first two months.
The other night, I just stood beside her crib and watched her as she
slept. I watched her eyes twitch and roll as if she was having an
intense dream. I watched as her little mouth and lips contort and
pulsate as if she was drinking her warm bottle. I watched as her
little hands reached out and then landed up beside her head – sleeping
a lot like “mommy” Rachel who tends to put her arms up by her head
too. I watched as she stretched and yawned – still in her sleep – and
took great delight and pleasure in the fact that on this night she was
safe, warm, fed and cared for. My greatest delight and pleasure in all
of this, though, was the fact that I stood there watching over her so
intently because I love her. I love knowing that she is loved. All
the protection, feeding, warmth and tender care that she is now
experiencing is because Rachel and I love her. We see that all her
needs are met because we love her.
As I stood just watching and delighting over her, I knew that in some
small way, I understood how God looks on us and watches us and delights
in us. I could imagine God standing over my bed at night doing the
very same thing I was doing with baby Belle. Watching and taking in
every sound (yep, even the snoring), every movement, every twitch and
even every roll of the eye as we dream of some far away place.
Watching and taking in every movement when the dreams occasionally turn
into a nightmare.
Did you know that God watches you with the same intensity and care as I
was looking at Belle in her crib? Did you know that, like me with
Belle that night, He works the night shift to make sure you’re taken
care of? Did you know He takes great delight in seeing that you’re
safe (protected), warm (sheltered), fed (provided for), and cared for
(attended to)? Did you know that He delights to do all these things
for you and He delights to see you resting well – yes, even snoring
soundly – for one simple reason: because He loves you.
David (of Bible fame) wrote in Psalm 4:8, “I will lie down and sleep in
peace, for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety.” Sometime later
his son, Solomon, wrote in Psalm 127:2, “[God] grants sleep to those he
loves.” I can imagine David, with eyes full of love, bending over
Solomon’s crib to watch him as he slept. How wonderful that many
years later the son, Solomon, learned from his father about the tender
love of God that encompasses us and surrounds us even when we’re
asleep.
Somehow, we sleep better knowing that the same One who has tenderly
loved and cared for us during our waking hours is the same One who
stands by our bed – when it’s the darkest – and keeps watch over us
with the same loving intensity as when the lights are on. We sleep
well when we know that someone much bigger and more powerful than we
are is right there with us to keep watch while our eyes are closed and
we are vulnerable.
Be assured today that God loves you and cares about the things that
affect you. Belle’s pain came from someone else’s troubles and poor
choices, but we are so glad that we have been there to rock her, cuddle
her, embrace her and pray over her as she has struggled through the
healing process.
What are you going through right now? Are you experiencing some
painful things that cause you to sweat and shake, cry and possibly even
scream?
Let me assure you, you have a heavenly Father who is watching over you
– even during your worst nightmares – to hold you, embrace you and
carry you into wholeness. He works the night shift and keeps His eye
on you for one simple reason: He loves you.
Resting well knowing that my Dad is watching me, even in the dark,
David
November 30, 2009
We live in truly interesting times. Increasingly, in the more developed and prosperous western countries, I am seeing the warning expressed in Isaiah 5:20 - 23 becoming more and more relevant (and ominous):
“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter. Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes and clever in their own sight. Woe to those who are heroes at drinking wine and champions at mixing drinks, who acquit the guilty for a bribe, but deny justice to the innocent.”
It seems that much of mainstream media likes to cover the stories of people whose lives and the choices they make are anything but good. Simply by giving them press coverage, there comes a glorification of those poor – and yes, sometimes evil – choices and attitudes that then become more and more acceptable, especially to a younger and more impressionable audience.
I think of all the wayward business professionals the past few years, the wayward athletes and the wayward celebrities. I think of the prominent New York real estate developer (he’s a celebrity with his own TV show) who I’ve heard say (this is paraphrased) that in a business deal, grab all you can get and get all you can grab no matter the cost to the other party. It’s all about who is smarter and savvier and who has the ability to take the other person down. What he’s doing is telling us all how much smarter and savvy he is and what a masculine, viral man he is by his ability to win battles in board rooms. Nonetheless, we tend to idolize the wealthy – especially those who are celebrities in the media – and we increasingly turn a blind eye toward their shortcomings and poor choices. In fact, we continue to be enraptured by their prideful personalities and poor choices, and we keep watching them and reading about them, and without really thinking about it, we keep supporting them by OUR behavior.
OK, it’s going to get better now because I’m going to get positive. I’ve been on my soapbox, but I’m not getting off. I’m just going to step up onto a higher soapbox.
I want to simply give some press coverage – in my own, little way – to someone who really deserves some coverage. I’ve laid the groundwork in my rant above for one, simple reason. I want to contrast those we hold up as celebrities with someone who I consider a celebrity even though you have possibly never heard of him. He’s my best friend Matt Tallman.
Today is Matt’s 50th birthday, and I want to honor him. We’ve been best friends for 45 years, so I think I know him pretty well. There are a number of definitions of the word “honor,” but the three that apply in Matt’s case are:
1. A good name or public esteem: REPUTATION
2. A showing of merited respect: RECOGNITION
3. One whose worth brings respect or fame: CREDIT
If I had to summarize these three definitions, I would simply say that I want to recognize Matt today on his birthday and give him credit for his outstanding reputation.
In contrast to those the media idolizes and, by doing so, honors in our society, I want to tell you about Matt so that you can honor him with me today.
Here are the qualities of Matt’s character that cause me to find it a privilege to honor him today:
1. He is unconditionally loving (he’s been MY best friend for 45 years….does that say enough?)
2. He is forgiving – he doesn’t hold grudges toward those who have hurt him (again, I raise my hand here)
3. He is caring
4. He is without guile – there is nothing false or deceitful in him
5. He is generous
6. He works harder at relationships than anyone I know and will do whatever it takes to keep them intact and healthy
7. He is selfless
8. He is a servant
OK, I could go on and on. When I think of Matt, I think of this passage of scripture from Psalm 15:4:
“LORD, who may dwell in your sanctuary? Who may live on your holy hill?
He whose walk is blameless and who does what is righteous, who speaks the
truth from his heart and has no slander on his tongue, who does his neighbor no
wrong and casts no slur on his fellowman, who despises a vile man but honors
those who fear the LORD, who keeps his oath even when it hurts, who lends his
money without usury and does not accept a bribe against the innocent. He who
does these things will never be shaken.”
I know that Matt’s future address is on God’s holy hill. I also know that his house is being built by God and that it will be (and already is) quake-proof. I’m just praying and hoping that I can get into the same neighborhood as my best friend. If I follow his example – because he follows Christ - I might just get there.
Happy 50th Birthday Matt! I love you.
David
November 23, 2009
4:30 am came way too early for me as a twelve
year old boy when I had to fall out of bed to catch the bus to go pick
strawberries. If this was my summer vacation, then the “for-real” work
world out in the fields was for the birds and, by all means, I was
happy to get back to school again right away!
My best friend, Matt, joined me in catching the bus down at the 7-11
convenience store at the corner of 45th and Vermont. The bus was
jammed full of kids close to our age, most of whom were drugged with
sleep, but there were always those few who were already “morning
people.” They jabbered away endlessly when the rest of us just wanted
to close our eyes and pretend we were still in bed.
We were in the fields by 5:30 am with our crates (we called them
“flats”) beside us, ready to go. Even the sun hadn’t rolled out of bed
yet, but we would watch it peek out from under the covers of the
horizon ready to shine a little more light on the leaves that were
hiding our fruity treasure.
Matt was great at picking strawberries. I was better at picking my
nose. He was really fast and by about 9 am – while I was
half-heartedly picking berries but whole-heartedly off on a dream
journey riding the Matterhorn at Disneyland – he would have about ten
crates of berries picked, compared to my two.
Sometime around 11 am, with only an hour or two to go for the day, I
would come back from my time away in Disneyland and notice the huge
discrepancy between us, based on the number of flats we each had
picked. Of course we got paid by the flat, so Matt was going to be a
rich man by day’s end. Me? I would have blown all my cash on my trip
to Disneyland.
Matt, being the incredible friend he still is to this day, would notice
the discrepancy between the respective number of flats we each had (Ok,
I was able to successfully call his attention to the situation), and he
would begin picking berries for my flats. By the time we had to board
the bus to go home, I would have just two or three flats less than
Matt. There may have even been the odd day or two that we ended the
day with the same number of flats, due to my best friend’s generosity,
as well as his picking prowess.
When I think of Matt and the incredible friend he has been to me (goes
way beyond paying for my trips to Disneyland), I see a man who has
lived true to a principle in the Bible found in Philippians 2:4. It
says, “Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also
to the interests of others.” In order to do this, it means that you
and I have to be willing to live lives of sacrifice for the people
around us. It’s easy for us to come up with reasons why we shouldn’t
do this. We think to ourselves, “Well, I’d like to go to Disneyland,
too, but I’m making the decision to stay focused, work hard and I’m not
going to support somebody in their fantasy world when, if they were
only as focused as I am and willing to work hard, then they could pick
as many flats as I do.” Sounds noble. Sounds right. Sounds just.
Sounds selfish.
Now, I admit that there was a lot wrong with me in the picture I just
painted. I was lazy. I was tired. I didn’t enjoy picking
strawberries. I was manipulative.
However, there was a lot right with Matt in the picture I just
painted. Even though he could have easily decided that he wasn’t
willing to sacrifice himself to pay for my trips to Disneyland out in
that berry field, he didn’t. The really incredible thing – now get
this – in spite of all that was wrong with me, is that I have never
forgotten what Matt did for me. He became a living example of God’s
Word. Matt does what the scripture says: he looks not only to his own
interests, but also to the interests of others. Matt left a God-sized
impression on me that I still can’t shake. It’s an impression that has
shaped me for the better.
Don’t continually count the number of flats you’ve picked and assume
that everyone around you should be able to pick the same number. Don’t
pride yourself on your picking prowess and come up with every reason
you shouldn’t help the people around you make sure their flats are
full. Whatever you decide to do, you’ll certainly make an impression –
one way or the other.
If you’re one, like I was, who likes to take trips to Disneyland, be
sure not to forget the people who sacrificed to pay your way and allow
their influence to change you. If you’re one like Matt, who sacrifices
so that others’ flats can be full, don’t lose hope that your sacrifices
might be so influential that the people you have given to might one day
pick up somebody’s else’s tab for that ride on the Matterhorn.
Still enjoying Disneyland, but happier than ever to help others get there,
David Gallagher
November 16, 2009
Last week I talked about dads, and it reminded me of an interesting experience I had with my stepdad a number of years ago.
My stepdad, Vince, was around 80 years old when he showed me a
photograph of his father. It was the only photo of his dad that he
had. He had carried it around for years. The edges were worn and
tattered but his dad’s image was in good shape. It was the only memory
he had of the man who had brought him into the world. Vince’s dad had
abandoned the family when Vince was a small boy, and Vince didn’t see
him again the rest of his life. The only other time he remembered
seeing him was when he was lying in his coffin at his funeral.
Vince and my mom, Gerry, had gotten a scanner at home and Vince asked
me if I could print out a larger copy of his dad’s photograph. I
readily agreed.
As the enlarged photograph emerged from the printer, and Vince took it
in his hands, I was quite surprised and taken aback when tears filled
Vince’s eyes and he began to cry. He was still missing his dad, even
at 80 years of age. In spite of the rejection, in spite of the alcohol
that his father drank too much of, he desperately wanted to know his
dad. He desperately wanted to cherish some memories of the man who had
brought him into the world.
It’s a peculiar thing, this “dad” thing. God has placed this desire in
us to know our dads, to have relationship with a father. Sometimes
though, when hurt runs deep, we insist we want nothing to do with our
dads. Several times, in my work in Africa, I have had young men who
are in their 20s and 30s, bury their heads in my shoulder crying
heaving sobs as they tell me that they want a dad. Vince’s tears – at
age 80 – were a wake up call to me that it doesn’t matter how old
someone is, there is a place in all of our hearts for a father. We may
try to pretend that we do or don’t need a dad, but I am convinced that
we never outgrow the need for a dad. Never.
The reality is that many people – possibly most people – don’t have
relationships with their dads, at least not good relationships.
Maybe you’ve heard the expression that every human being has a
“God-shaped void” in his or her heart. I think that’s true because we
are told in the account of creation in the Bible that we have been
created in God’s image. I would rather think of it, though, as all of
us having a “Father-shaped void” or a “Dad-shaped void,” the ultimate
Father being God, Himself.
God knew a long time ago that many people would end up not having
relationships with earthly dads. He knew – and still knows - that some
dads would abandon or reject their families, that some dads would die,
and He knows that a variety of other things – maybe alcohol or drugs or
gambling – would remove them from the family photo. But that’s why He
promised to be our Father. He said “I will never leave you or forsake
you.” God died a physical death once – in the person of His son,
Jesus, when He was crucified on the cross – but He did that so we could
have a relationship with Him. Jesus took all the ugly stuff, that
would otherwise be ours to carry, upon Himself and He died with all
that junk. All that ugliness that broke relationship and separated us
from our heavenly Dad was buried with Jesus. He conquered the things
that kill relationships and that separate Dads and their children. His
promise to never leave us or forsake us is solid. He won’t leave us or
abandon us because of things like alcohol abuse or physical death like
Vince’s dad did. Or like my dad did. Because He is eternal and is the
constant loving and caring Father in our mortal lives if we’ll allow
Him to be.
God said He would adopt us into His family (Ephesians 1:3-10) and He
would lovingly shower a lot of other good things into our lives, both
in this present life and in the life after this life. God, our loving
heavenly Dad, is longing to adopt you into His family. Have you
allowed Him to get close enough to bring you in? What are you waiting
for? You might say, “Well, I’ve seen some of His kids and I don’t want
anything to do with them. You think I’d want to be part of THAT
family?” OK, so some of His kids aren’t all that terrific, but don’t
project their failings onto Him. Also, we can tend to allow the
failings of a few to spoil the greater bunch. Sometimes we do that
simply to justify ourselves so that we don’t have to live under the
“house rules” – God’s house, that is.
Remember, in this life, no one will ever be perfect. But our loving
Dad – when we accept His instruction and correction – will see that we
grow up to be pretty great people. And that’s because we’ll become
like Him. If you are one who simply projects His kids onto the cover
of the proverbial book, you’d better be careful to not judge the book
by its cover. Get into the Book (the Bible) and ask God to reveal who
He is to you as a great Dad.
My stepdad Vince . . . what a revelation that we’re never too old to
not need or want a dad. The great news is that because God is timeless
and is “older than the hills,” then He is old enough to be your Dad too
– even if you’re 80.
Don’t put it off any longer. All of us in God’s family could use some great older brothers and sisters.
Remembering that no matter how old I get I’ll always be a son who needs his Dad,
David
November 9, 2009
I was taking a trip down memory lane with my friend, Jason, the other
day, and he was telling me how he met his wife. They were both in
university – he a junior and she a brand new freshman.
He recalled how she had set herself apart from the other girls at the
university because she didn’t ask the same question of him that
virtually all the other girls at the school asked within the first five
minutes of meeting him: “What does your dad do?”
Jason came from a small town and that kind of social politics didn’t go
over very well with him. He was not used to sizing people up based on
their socio-economic position, so when his future wife didn’t play that
game, he was duly impressed. He knew he had met someone who was
quality and who had her priorities right. His wife was also impressed
that he didn’t ask her the same question. Their friendship was based
on getting to know each other, without delving prematurely into each
other’s family life and history.
“What does your dad do?” It’s not a bad question. If it comes at the
right time and with the right motives, it can be a great question. All
too often, though, it is a question that is asked prematurely and for
all the wrong reasons.
There is another angle to that question of what one’s dad does. It
goes quite beyond a career or profession and quite beyond earning
potential, neighborhoods and the cars that dads drive. It goes to the
heart of life’s matters that really count. That is the question, “What
doesn’t your dad do?”
Some of us, when asked what our dad does, might have answers like:
• He criticizes me (He doesn’t encourage me)
• He abuses me (He doesn’t protect me)
• He mocks me (He doesn’t say nice things about me)
• He ignores me (He doesn’t pay attention to me)
• He rejects me (He doesn’t accept me as I am)
• He holds my mistakes against me (He doesn’t forgive me)
Earthly dads might have jobs or professions that make us proud (and
possibly well-off financially), but the stuff that really matters can
bring great hurt, embarrassment and shame.
My dad left my mom and me when I was 14. He died when I was 16. When
he died, I learned over the following months and years that I hadn’t
been left alone. Psalm 68 says that God is “a Father to the
fatherless.” Interestingly, some of us can have fathers who are
alive, but who still have left us fatherless and alone. Here are some
of the things that I have learned my heavenly dad does:
• He does love me with unconditional love (Psalm 103:10,11)
• He does build me up and encourage me (Isaiah 63:8,9)
• He does forgive me when I mess up (I John 1:9)
• He does protect me (Psalm 91:9-16)
• He does care for me with tenderness (Psalm 23)
• He does accept me (Matthew 11:28-30)
• He does give me good things (Matthew 7:9-11)
I hope and pray that your earthly dad is or was loving and tender to
you and that your life is richer and better for having him as a dad.
But for those who don’t have that story, you need to be assured that
you have a heavenly Dad who can and will make up the difference for
what you don’t or didn’t have in an earthly dad. He doesn’t just make
up the difference, He goes way beyond anything that an earthly dad can
be. Even great earthly dads will sometimes fail, make mistakes, bring
hurt and disappoint us. One day, like my dad, their bodies will give
out and they won’t be around. It’s a great thing to know that God is
there and that He loves you and cares for you before you really need to
know it.
“What does your dad do?” I hope we can all re-think the answer to that
question and that our response has more to do with a fullness and
quality of life than it has to do with the size of a bank account. I
hope you get to know the eternal Dad who is a Father to the
fatherless. He’ll take care of your heart. No amount of money can do
that.
What does my Dad do? He makes my soul come alive. For me, that will always be enough.
Proud of, and thankful for, my heavenly Dad who does all the important stuff,
David Gallagher
November 2, 2009
I was both excited and also slightly intimidated
when I reported for my first shift at Good Samaritan Hospital (we’ll
come back to the “Good Samaritan” bit in a moment). My friend Brent
and I had grown up together and now as 15-year-olds – both with an
interest in medicine – we were excited to get a close-up view of the
medical world in a real hospital through the Explorer Scout program.
On that first day reporting in, we had no idea where our assignment
would take us. After some shuffling of the paperwork, the hospital
supervisor in charge of the Explorer program informed us that we had
been assigned to the fifth floor. “Wow – the fifth floor!” we both
thought, rubbing our inexperienced hands together in our minds. Then
the supervisor said, “That’s the plastic surgery ward.” Our hearts –
and faces – sunk. Plastic surgery?! What?! All we knew about plastic
surgery at that time was boob jobs and tummy tucks. Couldn’t we be in
the cardiology unit? How about the cancer ward? Orthopedics? Plastic
surgery had never crossed our minds.
We made our way up to the fifth floor donning our impressive white
jackets with the Medical Explorer badge on them (OK, other than our
very boyish faces, we both fancied ourselves as very mature medical
professionals. We were impressed with ourselves even if no one else
was.). After a brief orientation a nurse called for us: “Brent &
David, please follow me to room number nine. I have something you can
do.”
We followed her toward room number nine and, as we walked, she
explained that the patient in that room didn’t have any specific
plastic surgery needs, but was instead an elderly man who was something
of a hypochondriac. All the nurses knew him well as he was often in
and out of the hospital. The particular ward that he landed in didn’t
really matter; they would simply put him anywhere in the hospital where
there was an empty bed.
Brent entered the room first and I followed. We hadn’t been in the
room more than 30 seconds when the nurse immediately pulled out two
sets of rubber gloves. That’s when the first knot tied in my stomach.
Then, she pulled out some kind of gel or ointment. That’s when the
second knot formed. All of a sudden, I had the sudden urge to crawl
into the empty bed next to the old guy as a patient myself because I
felt ill.
As my good fortune would have it, right at that moment, another patient
on the floor pressed their call button. Since I was the closest one to
the door I raced – and I mean, raced – out of the room. I left Brent
standing there and I will never forget the deer in the headlights look
he had on his face as he watched me exit.
Brent was left to do the dirty work and he has never let me forget it.
Luke 10:25 - 37 tells the story of the Good Samaritan. It’s an
interesting story because it tells of three different people who came
upon a critically wounded man who had been attacked and left for dead
by robbers. The first two guys handled the ugly scene by turning a
blind eye to the guy’s plight, going around him and continuing on their
journey. The last guy stopped to tend to the wounds of this man and
made sure he got the help he needed in order to survive.
Our human nature is to avoid messy situations – especially with hurting
people – and like my 15-year-old nature in full bloom that day at the
hospital, we try to flee at the earliest possible convenience so that
we don’t have to do the dirty work. We love to leave