Why Rooftop 519 Exists

One hour from now, our alpha patient is landing in Seattle for treatment. Many people want to understand who we are. Here is an introduction.

Rooftop 519 developed from our belief that very sick or injured children all over the world are frequently left to die or suffer because their access to hospital care is limited or non-existent. We exist to bridge the gap for these children, helping them to travel from their community to the place of their healing, and then back to their family.

We are compelled to help these children because it is the most obvious of human responsibilities we have to our creator. We serve these children, their families and all who are a part of the healing process in love.

Patients apply through our partner organizations in other countries. We target children ages 2-12 who have orthopedic, cosmetic, maxillofacial, blast trauma, burn trauma and benign tumor issues. We are being asked to consider cardiac care. Our target is to treat cases that require between six weeks to six months of care. Our expectation and motivation is to create transformational community impact because of this medical work.

Each child needs hope. Rooftop 519 was named after the story in Luke chapter 5 verse 19 where a paralytic man is lowered through the roof by his friends to be healed by Jesus. We are those friends. We use our abilities and resources to get kids to the healer. Our mission is “Healing the sickest kids in the world in the name of Christ”. It excites me to think that 2000 years after the paralytic’s story, we can still live the adventure of bringing someone to the Healer.

Like the paralytic’s friends, we know that our challenges are immense. It is no easy task to carry a child to health. With a tenacious spirit we will rescue those kids. When the doors and windows are closed, we go through the roof.

Love Heals,

Shawn Manley

The Teleios Man

It’s been four years since the death of one of my closest friends. His name was Sean T., and we met our freshman years at Green River Community College in Auburn, Washington. Sean was a local boy, like me. That’s about where our similarities ended. My family cared for and protected me. His abused and neglected him. Especially his dad.

If you prefer to look away from the ugly underbelly of sin, stop reading. Sean’s dad was a predator. He feasted on the sexual identity of his own son, stripping Sean of innocence, his purpose and his social belonging. Sean opened up his pain to me on the first day we met. He shared how his dad had molested him from his earliest memories. He shared how he had prostituted himself to make money in high school. He floundered for the words to express the anguish he felt… and the shame… from his severely broken relationships.

Sean was new to the faith. He had recently given his heart to the Lord and was attempting to break ties with the friends that would drag him into all kinds of sin. Pot, alcohol (which eventually took his life), lies and other types of evil were a perpetual temptation. Through me and my friends, we loved Sean with a love he had never known. He expressed how much  he loved to belong to our group.

Sean’s social awkwardness was compounded by ADHD, obesity and very low self esteem. People sometimes ran away as though he had the plague. I sometimes wanted to run too. I knew that I would never know the full extent of the grace Sean was given, and somehow, the Lord let his grace flow through me to Sean.

When his liver finally gave out, I was at Harborview Hospital by his side. I encouraged him to stop fighting and be with Jesus. His mom flew up for his well-attended funeral, and as we ate together before the service she made this comment:

“When someone does that to a child, they kill the soul and let the body walk around.”

What she hadn’t seen was the restoration work God had done to redeem Sean’s soul over the years. Sean was working on becoming complete in Christ, a “Teleios Man” as my friend Larry Titus would say.

In his book of the same name, Larry writes about mentoring and helping men to be complete. We’re all born into a broken state; broken relationships with sin-infused desires. Teleios is the Greek word for complete or finished. Larry writes about his experiences and expertise in mentoring men towards completeness in Christ. Some of these men are more wounded and abused than my friend Sean.

My challenge is not to figure out if I’m better or worse off than other guys. I’m challenged to live the most complete life I can, centered around my pursuit of God. My passion is getting as many men around me going in the same direction. I really don’t care if I’m at the front or the back of the line. I care about which line I’m in.

Do you have a Sean in your life? Are you being mentored and mentoring? At church about a year ago, the pastor singled me out to point out that I intentionally mentor younger men. He commented from the pulpit that I was probably mentoring at least three or four men. A quick mental tally (this isn’t really something I regularly tally) and I had the actual total: 12. Nice biblical number. I’m proud of those men. I love sharing my life with them, and I really love seeing their lives become more complete because of Jesus working through me.

Colossians 1:28-29 “Whom we preach, warning every man, and teaching every man in all wisdom; that we may present every man perfect in Christ Jesus. To this end I labor, struggling with all His energy, which works so powerfully within me.”

My eulogy for my father, given at his memorial on 1-15-2011

The following is my eulogy, as read word-for-word today at the memorial service for my father, Rex D. Manley.

I looked up the definition of “eulogy” in Wikipedia. If my dad were here, he’d be thinking “wiki-what?” It’s an online encyclopedia. Anyways, the definition of eulogy comes from Greek. It means to share good words. My father deserves many good words; he was a great man.

Rex Duane Manley lived a life of tenacious integrity. I can say without reservation that my dad never lied, cheated or stole from anyone. He was faithful and completely committed to living a life for Christ.

One example of this was in the way he treated people in business. I remember going with my dad to work. Even in my elementary years, people my dad worked with told me what an honest man my dad was. He didn’t spend much time lecturing me about how to live in veracity. He just did it.

Proverbs 4:23-27

Above all else, guard your heart for it is the wellspring of life. Put away perversity from your mouth keep corrupt talk far from your lips. Let your eyes look straight ahead, fix your gaze directly before you. Make level paths for your feet and take only ways that are firm. Do not swerve to the right or the left; keep your foot from evil.

My dad did have a habit of fibbing, but it wasn’t what you might think. Some of you may not know the name “Mr. X”. This was the persona that dad created when he gave gifts in secret to people in ministry for Kingdom work. I first met Mr. X when he wrote me a letter in high school for a mission trip. He enclosed $100 to help me in my efforts to travel to Mexico with Northwest Foursquare Church. Mr. X helped a couple more times with mission trips.

Early into my 20’s, he shared with me his secret. He told me that he’d helped many other people, always anonymously. He derived great joy from giving to people, especially in secret. I believe that we are never more like God than when we give, and this action of giving was very much a part of his worship to the Lord. When he told me about Mr. X, he told me about some of the people he had helped, and what types of people he’d like to help. I arranged for some of these gifts.

His favorite gift was to a friend that wanted very badly to travel to Washington D.C. to be a part of a Christian rally. He told me whom he helped, and that after Mr. X passed on, I could reveal my dad’s hidden identity. You know who you are.

My dad had many great attributes. Here are a few of my thoughts that define his character.

I remember when he kissed my mom every day before he went to work

I remember when he spanked me when I needed it, never in anger

I remember when he honored my wife and his daughter and daughters-in-law by taking them all out for dinner around Christmas (I think he just liked all of the attention that these pretty ladies gave him)

I remember when he taught me how to drive

I remember him coordinating our family reunions

I remember at one of these reunions when my aunt Becky told a group of us that he was the dad she never had

I remember how he faithful he raised me in the house of the Lord

I remember how much he could be in the moment with a person, never too busy listen intently and crack a joke when appropriate

I remember how he demonstrated admiration for my mom

I remember how he never stopped doing something just because it was hard

I remember our last conversations were about how he didn’t think he could wait any longer to be with Jesus

On this very patch of earth, exactly 20 years ago, I had a conversation with a youth leader about death. I made the comment that I didn’t think I would cry if my parents died. It was a statement made by a naive 16 year-old who was attempting to work out his theology. At the root of that statement is a belief that God works all things together for good for those who love him, and a knowing that death is an inevitable part of our existence on earth. It is in some ways the best part, as it is the moment in which we pass from sickness, brokenness and fatigue to a complete immersion in God’s glory.

During the last year of my dad’s life he had many, many struggles. There is nothing wrong with my dad now. He’s been healed.

I Corinthians 15:54-55

When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.” “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?”

I have since shed a few tears for my father. I don’t think from his Heavenly stance he would even understand why. I’ll have more grief to sort through, and I cannot imagine the struggle that my mom will endure, but I am grateful for the 36 years we’ve known each other.

About two months before my dad’s accident, the Lord called my wife and I to move our family to Southern California. In the midst of our move, I took on two roles that greatly pleased my father. I am now a campus pastor for Desert Foursquare Church, and I am the President of an organization that brings injured or ill children who need surgeries from other countries to the U.S. for surgical procedures.

Each new trip to his bedside brought similar responses, “Hey nurse – let me introduce you to my son the pastor”. Or, “Hey, I found somebody that would want to help you with those kids”. Just a few weeks ago he called me up to give me the number of a doctor that might help with our kids. I stopped writing the phone digits on my notepad when I realized that through his mental haze he could only think of his home number.

That was my dad. Always connecting, relating and encouraging… even to his last breath. He fought to live his purpose in spite of his battered flesh. And now, he’s up there, making new friends, connecting them to the old friends that have preceded him. He is reunited with his parents, his two siblings and many other people he’s shared this world with. I’ll bet that right now he’s trying to convince someone they need a foodbank.

Thank you, Dad. You were a great man.