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 25, 2010

Several months ago, we put the metal roofs onto our first four children’s homes at the Open Arms Village. In spite of the fact that they were brand new metal sheets, they were discolored in places and looked, well, shall we say, a bit “off.” I didn’t think too much about it and nothing was said by our construction experts on the ground.

About one week after these metal sheets had been put on, Chris, a close friend of mine from the UK, flew into Eldoret and visited our Village. As it so happens, Chris is a roofing expert and had seen the roofs of our homes from the air as he was landing at the airport. When he finally arrived at the Village and looked at the roofs, he commented to me that he was troubled by what he saw. After closer inspection, he was convinced that our contractor had been sold sub-standard, faulty roofing sheets.

With Chris’s insistence and expert advice, we tore the metal sheets off our roofs and returned them to the supplier, who then showed them to the manufacturer. The manufacturer didn’t come right out and admit that the sheets were sub-standard, but he also didn’t put up a fight when it came to our insistence that they give us a quality product.

Sometimes we need someone – especially an expert – who flies at a higher level than we do to look at our work and point out areas of concern that we might not even notice. I’m convinced that if Chris hadn’t seen those roofs from the air and if his sharp expert eyes hadn’t noticed a problem, then we may have had rain pouring into our homes in a relatively short period of time.

Scripture says that the Holy Spirit guides us into all truth. He is God’s Counselor for us and “teaches us all things.” Just like my friend Chris saw the situation on the ground from high up in the airplane, God’s Spirit sees things from a higher level than we do and catches things that we might miss. If we pay attention to Him and take time to read His word and to listen to Him, He then brings these things to our attention because He knows that if they’re not remedied they might cause problems down the road.

Thankful for experts like Chris and Christ whose counsel keeps me from trouble,

David Gallagher

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 su