I can help a lot of other people who've gone through the same

Hear, O children of compassion and duty, the words of David Gest, who once declared: “I can help a lot of other people who've gone through the same thing by building a center that will help men and women who don't have the funds to take care of themselves and get the medical treatment.” These words are not only about charity, but about transformation. They speak of turning one’s own suffering into a source of light for others, of building sanctuaries where the broken and the poor may find strength and healing.

The origin of this saying lies in Gest’s own struggles with health and hardship. Having endured pain and adversity, he recognized that others carried the same burdens but without the wealth, influence, or resources to ease them. From his own wounds came his vision: not to wallow in bitterness, but to build a center where others might find relief. His words echo the timeless truth that true greatness is not measured by what one gathers for oneself, but by what one gives for the sake of others.

To speak of helping those without funds is to shine a light on one of humanity’s deepest injustices: that care for the body and healing of disease are often denied to the poor. A broken limb, an aching heart, an afflicted mind—these strike both rich and poor alike, but the wealthy find aid, while the poor are too often left to languish. Gest’s declaration recognizes this imbalance and seeks to correct it, not with empty words, but with the promise of action, of building institutions that endure.

History bears witness to such acts of mercy. Consider Florence Nightingale, who went into the darkness of war to bring care to soldiers too poor, too forgotten, too broken to save themselves. Her work birthed the modern nursing profession, lifting countless millions into healing. Or recall Saint Basil the Great, who in the fourth century built one of the first hospitals, where the sick and destitute could find treatment without price. In both stories, as in Gest’s vision, suffering became the seed of service, and out of pain was born the will to lift others.

The deeper meaning of this quote lies in the sacred cycle of suffering and redemption. When a man or woman endures hardship, they may choose either to close their heart or to open it. By choosing to build a center, Gest shows that one’s scars may become a roadmap for others, one’s weakness a source of another’s strength. This is the alchemy of compassion: to turn the lead of one’s own pain into the gold of another’s salvation.

The lesson, O listeners, is clear: do not let your wounds be wasted. If you have suffered, remember that others walk the same dark road. Use your knowledge, your resources, your empathy to build bridges, shelters, and healing places where others may rest. If you cannot build a center, then be a center yourself: a place of comfort for those around you, a refuge in your family, your community, your work.

Therefore, let your practice be this: when you encounter the afflicted, do not pass them by. Offer your hand, your ear, your means. Support the medical treatment of those without means when you can, whether through charity, advocacy, or simple acts of kindness. For in doing so, you become part of that greater vision of a society where healing is not a privilege, but a right.

Thus let Gest’s words endure: “I can help a lot of other people… by building a center.” In them lies the eternal truth that greatness is measured not in the palaces you build for yourself, but in the havens you build for others. Be builders, then—not only of walls and roofs, but of mercy, compassion, and hope.