WORLD'S Third Annual "No Little People"

Fletcher Brothers, a pastor in Lakemont, N.Y., wanted to reach out to troubled teens after one he failed to help in time was stabbed to death. He prayed. A man called him and said, &quotPastor Brothers ... you don't know me, but at four o'clock this morning I woke up out of a sound sleep, and all I know is I'm supposed to call you. I've got this abandoned prep-school property about 80 miles from here. Are you looking for a property by any chance?"

They went over that afternoon. It was 150 acres of weeds, broken windows, and broken water pipes, with raccoons running through all the buildings. &quotWhat do you think?" asked the real-estate agent. &quotI think it's beautiful," said Pastor Brothers. To which the agent replied, &quotI think you're crazy."

And so Freedom Village was born, a place for troubled teens to take refuge from drugs, gangs, incest, alcohol, and suicide. In the 16 years since its founding, young people deemed by their schools, courts, and parents as hopeless have been given another chance. Half of them had tried to take their own lives, some of them repeatedly. Most had scrapes with the law. Some came with a $600-a-day crack or heroin addiction. &quotWe deal with every wicked and abominable thing facing young people today," Pastor Brothers claims.

During an early morning chapel service at Freedom Village, Fletcher Brothers asked the young audience:

&quotHow many of you were in gangs before you came here?" About 20 raised their hands.

&quotHow many were in psychiatric wards before you came here?" A dozen hands went up.

&quotHow many of you used to carry guns?" Two-thirds of the hands shot up.

&quotHow many were on drugs?" Nearly all raised their hands.

&quotHow many had friends who committed suicide?" Ninety percent held their hands up.

&quotHow many of you were abused?" Hesitatingly, almost every hand reached upward.

On a sprawling, green property outside Lakemont, N.Y., the teenagers discover to their surprise that the sun rises gradually. Most had never gotten up at 6 a.m. for anything, let alone devotions followed by chores in the stables. Young drop-outs complete their academic studies in morning classes at Freedom Village, then receive vocational training in carpentry, mechanics, and television production.

The education they receive is for more than making a living. The students take classes on character, manhood, and womanhood. They study the Bible and learn to pray. They learn that they are valuable, that they are loved, and that their lives have a purpose.

The results are remarkable. Of the thousands of delinquents who have come to Freedom Village, 85 percent have made a commitment to Christ. A follow-up study showed that 65 percent remained drug- and crime-free after leaving.

For some of these teens, Freedom Village was their last chance. Monica--a striking girl with a beautiful voice--is a soloist with Freedom Village's traveling choral group, Victory Singers. As a youngster she was the victim of incest. She tried to kill herself four times before she came to Freedom Village. When Monica sings the song &quotSaved by Grace," she weeps. She explained, &quotEvery time I sing this song I cry. If it wasn't for this place I'd be dead."

**red_square** From the pages of the photo album stares a brown-eyed girl with a black pigmented patch of hair on her face. The next page reveals a little girl with a twisted mass of lip, gum, and teeth at the top of her mouth. Yet another displays a girl with no ear. These children were born with disfiguring abnormalities which would have marked them for life, as their parents could not afford corrective surgery. But these children have been given a fresh start.

Every six to seven weeks, teams of 60 to 80 medical and lay volunteers assemble at a surgery center in Encinitas, Calif., outside San Diego, for a marathon of reconstructive surgery on children like these. The surgeons volunteer their time and talents to correct physical deformities caused by birth defects, accidents, abuse, or disease. Dr. Dennis M. Nigro founded Fresh Start Surgical Gifts in 1991, and with his team of skilled physicians has contributed 448 surgeries over the past five years. The results transform the children.

When Dr. Nigro did his residency in plastic surgery at U.C. San Diego, he joined the chief of surgery on trips to Mexico, where they performed free reconstructive work on children. &quotIn the middle '80s--I was in my own practice by then--I got the idea there were a lot of similar underprivileged cases right around here, in this country," he recalls. &quotServing humanity, you know, is something you don't have to fly to Africa to do."

Robbie is one of the children given a fresh start. Born with a congenital birth mark that covered three-quarters of his scalp and a third of his body, Robbie was seriously disfigured. Hair could not grow on his scalp except for a few small tufts. By the age of five, he was suicidal. Singed by the stares and taunts of his young classmates, Robbie would come home from school and retreat to a closet.

Robbie's mother was a single parent, trying unsuccessfully to get help for him through Medicaid. Two years and six surgeries later, thanks to Fresh Start, Robbie has a normal head of hair and healthy confidence. He was recently elected president of his fifth-grade class.

Dennis Nigro reflects on the dynamics of giving: &quotI've learned through my Fresh Start experience that the three things we crave most in life--freedom, happiness, and peace of mind--can never be attained unless you are ready to give them away. The work we do is certainly good for those kids who receive our services, but I've got to tell you, it's even better for those of us doing it."

**red_square** Freddie Garcia seemed an unlikely candidate for success the day in 1966 when he stood in the gas station men's room, probing for a vein to shoot heroin. His infant daughter lay on the filthy floor in a nest of shredded toilet paper. He had taken her along on burglaries, and as she lay watching he wondered what kind of person he had become.

Through Christ's transforming power, Mr. Garcia kicked heroin, and in the 30 years since, he has helped 13,000 others do the same with their addiction. The Hispanic addict-turned-pastor launched Victory Fellowship, a ministry based in San Antonio, now present in 65 centers in four countries. He helps drug addicts, gang members, prostitutes, and alcoholics live a straight life, not by reform, but through conversion.

On a recent morning, members of the San Antonio business community gathered in the upper suites of a posh building to see a performance unlike anything most of them had ever experienced.

A troop of young boys, all sons of former addicts, marched in wearing uniforms. A six-year-old saluted smartly and stepped forward to say, &quotMy name is Jose, and my father was a heroin addict, and we didn't know where he was. But now he's free from drugs, and back at home. Thanks be to Jesus." Traces of the dissolute life they had left only recently were visible on the faces of the Ex-Addict Choir as they sang. Former teen gang members staged a gripping drama portraying life on the streets as they knew it, replete with drugs and a shooting. For the business audience, it was a glimpse into a world they had never seen firsthand, although they live in the same city.

Many of these young people had walked into Victory Fellowship off the streets, strung out on drugs, desperate for a place to sleep and eat. They found a place where someone would sit by them as they came down, mop their brow as they began to sweat in withdrawal, wipe away their vomit, talk to them when they couldn't sleep, read to them from the Bible, and pray for them. As former addicts, all the people ministering to them bring both empathy and experience to the task.

Mr. Garcia claims a 60 percent success rate, which is remarkable in treating drug addiction. His approach runs counter to the modern conventional wisdom. &quotEverybody gives a definition of the reason for drugs, for crime and violence," Mr. Garcia explains. &quotPsychologists call it emotional disturbance. Sociologists call it the product of our environment. Educators call it the lack of education. The Bible calls it sin. Drugs are the symptom, not the problem. Jesus Christ is the answer."

From the addicts Freddie Garcia has helped rescue, new leaders have emerged to do the same. Juan Rivera, a former junkie and thief, is now a pastor training others in the work. Roman Herrera was an addict so gripped by the message of Victory Fellowship that he has stayed on to become a house-parent for recovering addicts. Other former addicts visit prisons and run drop-in centers in gang-infested neighborhoods. They've discovered there is no one more effective in reaching an addict than someone who has been there himself.

**red_square** A student of Cumberland College in Williamsburg, Ky., accompanied an Appalachian classmate to see families living in tar-paper shacks with no running water and no electricity. The student from the suburbs had never seen conditions like these, in one of America's poorest regions. This was a part of America so remote from his experience that it could have been another country. He and his classmate looked at the bitter poverty and decided that even though they had no experience in construction, they would risk learning it to help these needy families.

Two students, Robert Day and David Emmert, began Mountain Outreach in 1982, with the goal of helping poor Appalachians make necessary repairs in their ramshackle domiciles. The students, soon joined by others, discovered that it was sometimes impossible to patch the roof, walls, and floor sufficiently to keep out the wind, snow, and rain. More was needed. Unaware of the practical difficulties and buoyed by youthful energy, they forged plans to build new houses as well as repair the old ones.

The first building site for a new house was so remote that there was no road to it, nor was there electricity. All tools had to be hand-operated and all materials hand-carried. A relay team of students lugged cinder blocks for the foundation across a field and through the woods from the nearby dirt road. But good intentions were not enough. The man for whom the students were building the first new house died of frostbite and hypothermia before they could finish. The earnestness of the plight of those they wished to help was writ large. The students redoubled their efforts for others.

Cumberland College Mountain Outreach has built houses every year since, offering simple but safe shelter to destitute families. In 14 years, volunteers in the student-run program have built 79 homes and winterized 200 others. Beyond that, the students have done major repairs on 70 houses and have dug 42 wells for families who had no water. Student volunteers touch the lives of hundreds each year by collecting and distributing clothing, food, and Christmas gifts for children.

The houses are no-frills models--plain wood floors covered with linoleum, sheetrock walls and two or three electrical outlets in each room. But for families who have lived in shacks, moving into such a house is the first time they have lived inside walls without cracks, with electricity and running water. To preserve the dignity of the families receiving a new house, they are asked to contribute to the cost of building materials. The families must provide the land. Some of the recipients work alongside the students to build their own houses. After each family's financial situation has been assessed, monthly payments on the materials as low as $20 are scheduled. Students continue to regularly visit the families they have helped.

From two students with a vision, a work has grown to assist a thousand families.

**red_square** He is a successful capitalist and makes a profit each year through the Dwelling House Savings and Loan Association. Yet banker Robert R. Lavelle does good works in the name of Jesus Christ and helps poor people buy and remain in their own homes.

Mr. Lavelle led his business successfully through the near-collapse of the savings and loan industry in the 1980s. He is 80 years old and has his share of medical ailments and is certainly eligible for traditional retirement. Yet he still goes to work every day, visits home-buyers in their homes when they fall behind on mortgage payments, and won't let security guards at the savings and loan carry guns, despite crime threats in the low-income area of Pittsburgh served by his business.

Many conservative political figures and commentators have pointed to the church and nonprofit ministries as the means to replace government welfare programs with more effective and compassionate help for the poor. What Mr. Lavelle has demonstrated is that a profitable banking institution--and presumably other profitable businesses--can also stand in the gap and help the poor. Year after year Dwelling House has been helping anywhere from 15 to 25 families buy homes at discounted lending rates.

The value of home ownership is hard to measure, but it's a crucial factor in encouraging a family to stay together, in helping people move from dependence and poverty to independence and stability. &quotHome ownership is the basis for stable families, good community schools, efficient government, and jobs from nearby businesses that provide goods and services," Mr. Lavelle explains. In the Bible property ownership is encouraged in Israel through provisions in the law for return of the land to original owners every 50 years, in the Jubilee year.

Mr. Lavelle and his son, Robert M. Lavelle, now the company president, attract investors, including many Christians from around the world, who are willing to join them in a ministry-business and receive a stable rate of savings interest, slightly below normal market rates.

&quotMany people write and praise God that they can save at a place that is helping people," he says. &quotI want to show that, despite what people think, Christian love and sound banking can be reconciled."

Other places have offered higher rates and new services. But Dwelling House has stuck to what the Lavelles know best--home loans. That tried principle of business is what has saved them from the troubles that other savings and loans found when they offered high rates and went after risky but high-yield real-estate ventures that later went bust.

Mr. Lavelle also has been successful through perseverance. Dwelling House assets have grown slowly but steadily, and are now at $17 million. Social agencies working on home ownership are often dependent on government grants, which rise and fall from one election cycle to another. In that sense, then, Mr. Lavelle's profit-making approach is not dependent on government or even private donations to continue.

Robert R. Lavelle gives all the credit for this unusual kind of success to Jesus Christ. Even as a Christian he defies standard press stereotypes. He opposes gambling, thinks the family needs rebuilding, and believes the Bible has the answers to our national problems--but he also emphasizes the need for Christians to be more compassionate to the poor. The mold he aims for is a much more challenging one, that of the character of his Savior.

by Russ Pulliam, editor of The Indianapolis News.

**red_square** On July 28 Mark Dewey, a pitcher for the San Francisco Giants, declined to participate in the team's &quotUntil There's a Cure" day, which raises money for the fight against AIDS.

Mr. Dewey, whose Christian commitment was already widely known in the Bay Area, felt last year's pregame ceremony condoned the homosexual lifestyle. As a result, he decided not to take the field for the ceremony this year, during which homosexual leaders spoke. When he entered the game as a relief pitcher in the eighth inning, the Candlestick Park scoreboard clearly showed him wearing his red iron-on AIDS ribbon sideways, so that it resembled a Christian fish symbol.

Leaders of the homosexual community were irate. One leader publicly called on the Giants to trade or release Mr. Dewey. Local media derided him. Even a columnist who defended Mr. Dewey's right to express his views could muster only a half-hearted compliment: &quotDewey's spirit is at the heart of the American character, even if his brain is somewhere over Fargo."

No disciplinary action ensued, however. What did happen was that Mr. Dewey's carefully worded four-paragraph explanation of his actions--including a statement that the cure for homosexual activity or any other sin is Jesus Christ--appeared in its entirety in Bay Area newspapers and in USA Today.

Mr. Dewey sees God's providence in the whole episode, pointing out that his absence from the pregame ceremony--like that of several other players--would probably have gone unnoticed had he not been summoned to pitch to one batter. He also notes that the controversy suddenly disappeared after his statement was published, perhaps because homosexual advocates perceived that pressing the issue could backfire.

&quotI was prepared to meet personally with the gay community," he says. &quotBut I think they realized that they weren't going to get me to say anything hateful, and that every time a microphone was stuck in front of me I was going to talk about sin and Jesus."

Pat Richie, the Giants' chaplain and president of a Bay Area ministry to professional athletes, believes Mr. Dewey's intended message came across. &quotEvangelicals here want to show concern for people with AIDS, but without showing approval for the gay lifestyle," Mr. Richie said. &quotIt's very hard here, because the non-Christian audience is not what it might be elsewhere. Mark did it gracefully and effectively."

Mr. Dewey was neither seeking nor expecting to make a scene. If he had to do it over again--which he might, next season--he says he would ask Giants management to make wearing the ribbons optional, in which case he would have been just one among several players abstaining.

As it turned out, however, what Mr. Dewey calls &quota very small act of obedience" demonstrated that a clear statement that Christians care enough about homosexuals not to condone homosexuality can still win the day, even in San Francisco.

by Bruce Barron, regional associate for the Pennsylvania Family Institute.

**red_square** Not one of these people set out to do great deeds, seek fame, or change the world. Yet by reaching out to those nearby, they had an effect far greater than they could have anticipated. As Christmas approaches, perhaps their example will remind us that we are to love our neighbors as ourselves. Those willing to make themselves available for the Lord's work may be surprised to discover that if he directs it, the results may be remarkable. There are &quotno little people, and no little places," if his people are building the kingdom on the cornerstone from Bethlehem.