Emergency Departure

by Justin Schneider on March 15, 2013

What is your plan of action when the political situation around you deteriorates to the point where your safety is at risk?

A big part of my training as an attorney is managing risk. In risk management, the potential risk of an action or situation is weighed against the potential benefit. When the risk outweighs the benefit, a good risk manager recommends against taking the risk.

In 2010, as I was preparing to lead a missionary-care team to Thailand, pandemonium broke out in Bangkok. In no time, the Thai army was in the streets and the U.S. State Department issued a Travel Warning against travel to Thailand. In a flash, the seesaw of risk vs. benefit slammed down on the side of risk. We all wanted to go, but our safety was central, and our sending church could not knowingly send us to a place that our government declared an unsafe place.

During this time, the missionaries we knew were also faced with a very important question: What should our family do?

When you live in a country that becomes unstable, questions like this are tremendously difficult. I was amazed to discover that the missionaries and their church did not have a policy and procedures for handling emergency situations. What about you and your sending organization?  What is in place for when emergency situations come to you?

So that’s my lawyer side.

Often my lawyer side butts heads with my faithful-follower side.

Eventually we made it to Thailand after the unrest was quelled. During our visit, the missionaries ask the question,“Are we supposed to be (or called to be) safe?”

My missionary friend asked this question after reading an article (that neither one of us can now find) that discussed the impact on congregations where the missionary/church leader left when political instability and individual safety became too great an issue. One paraphrase that was burned into my mind went like this:

The people in the churches we plant are learning a very different Christianity than what was lived 1800 years ago. Now, new Christians are learning that Christ is great when things are good. But as soon as safety becomes an issue, we’re outta here.

This stands in stark contrast to what Rodney Stark shows in his The Rise of Christianity: Through many of the biggest plagues and crises, it was the Christians who stuck around while the others bailed, and that made Christ a person worth believing in.

It also brings to mind Francis Chan’s discussion of praying for safety in Crazy Love:

We are consumed by safety. Obsessed with it, actually. Now, I’m not saying it is wrong to pray for God’s protection, but I am questioning how we’ve made safety our highest priority. We’ve elevated safety to the neglect of whatever God’s best is, whatever would bring God the most glory, or whatever would accomplish his purposes in our lives and in the world.

What do we do with THAT?

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I want to leave you with these questions today: How do you strike that balance between the risk manager in you (or organization) and the potential that is always greater than can be calculated when working with God?

If you operate under an emergency evac policy, what are some of the guidelines you follow? What are some guidelines you wish you didn’t have to?

If you work in a place that is constantly unstable or dangerous, how do you reconcile the competing safety and savior factors? How does the “changing face of missions” change our reactions or plans to emergency situations?

  • Wendy

    While not in a country that is politically unstable (Japan), we face natural disasters. And not-so-natural disasters, like the radiation situation triggered by an earthquake and tsunami two years ago. It caught most by surprise, I think. But I was surprised at the intensity of the concern for safety. Millions of Japanese had nowhere to go, yet the missionaries were “outa here”. Granted most came back, and fairly quickly, but still, I was shocked. Surely it damages our credibility with our host culture, our witness to them that we’re trusting God for everything?

    • http://twitter.com/JustSchneider Justin

      Thank you for offering a different spin on the same question. Natural disasters are another form of crisis that reveal a person’s (or Christian’s) true nature. Have you been able to ask trusted Japanese friends about these experiences and their thoughts? I know that is a difficult question to get an fully honest answer from, but I’d be curious to hear your neighbors’ thoughts on the matter.

      • Wendy

        I did have an email exchange with a Japanese Christian friend on the matter, she wrote this:

        “As God’s family, we are in the same boat, whether in Japan, or anywhere else. Through missionaries who stay in Japan, we Christians are comforted, encouraged and strengthened by the camaraderie: by their courage that they are sharing in our future. More than that, I believe through them, non-Christians Japanese will receive the love of Jesus, who came and identified with us, and who came to give His life so that sinful men are saved. I trust, at least for some of the missionaries, this is why they responded to God’s call: to communicate the infinite love of God.

        I am aware my opinion is one sided. I am in no way making judgment on those who evacuate. They must have gone through a very difficult time in making that decision. I am sure the Lord is pleased in whatever response His labourer gives to Him as he/she serves Him. I guess I am voicing my opinion because I believe God will use in a very special way those who stay, and stick to the end, or as far as they go. I hope this will be an encouragement to those who make that decision in response to Him.”

        Additionally, we who stayed were applauded at our Japanese church’s Sunday School (that was pretty embarrassing). I think that we stayed was powerful.

      • Wendy
  • http://www.facebook.com/richelle.wright Richelle Wright

    where we are working, several other organizations (govt, ngo, some missions) have either insisted or suggested that nonessential personnel leave. others haven’t… yet. we have friends who’ve left, others who’ve chosen a change of assignment elsewhere. we are nervous and are living with a certain level of always present fear and stress – and there is no denying that. we have, for the present, chosen to remain. some things that do jump out at me:

    1. up until recently, our place of service has been considered relatively safe. there’ve been coup d’etats, rebellions, etc., but for the most part, expats and internationals move into lock down mode for a few weeks and things find a new normal and life goes on. this time, there is significant concern that if/when something happens, expats will be the targets – at least that has been the pattern to date. so you live day to day life recognizing that with that reality continually hanging over you.

    2. with that reality – people ask us all of the time – “do you feel safe?” pragmatically? we wouldn’t know we weren’t safe until/if a moment comes that something bad happens. all of the changes are disconcerting – at first – but they become a new normal and we continue ministry and work. at least for us, here – there’s no savior complex. we are just trying to continue doing what we came here to do and current circumstances have complicated matters. our personal family plan is to leave on our home assignment as we scheduled to do about 2 years ago, before the political situation changed to its present situation (but it was a different “situation” then, so…)

    3. rampant disease, natural disaster, deadly animals, poorer medical care, traveling/transportation issues, access to key services, military/government corruption, different values and mores,perceived western wealth – all of these can affect “safety” and the danger inherent in living in a particular environs. yet when i hear discussions like these, if often focuses on war zone type issues. it is easy to criticize international workers who choose to leave under those circumstances when they’ve already spent long periods of time living daily with those other risks and realities.

    4. sometimes i think this is a question that affects decision makers perhaps more than the people “on the ground.” when you are on the ground in a place – you tend to rely on those decision makers. they are the ones carrying the weight on their shoulders because in some senses, they are the ones who will be “held accountable” if they pull people and in hindsight find there was no need or if they don’t and something bad happens to those they left on the field. our specific organization leaves those decisions up to individuals, their partnering churches and families back home. no official “top down” policy will be issued.

    5. sometimes we forget to take into account that our continued presence may endanger others or make life more difficult for those we are there to serve by calling attention to them, competing for few precious resources that are available, allowing the rest of the world to claim ignorance and disregard their plight, etc.

    6. it makes sense that those with families (young children, several children – circumstances that make is more difficult to pick up and go quickly should a situation so warrant) would have different thresholds than others (one young child, older teens, singles, couples) because staying or going does impact others and we may think we are making a decision where the risk only affects us – but it can also impact family, friends, neighbors, local believers, local authorities, etc.

    7. it is very true that my definition of safe does not equal God’s definition of safe. there have been some really good discussions on this site already regarding the “illusion” of safety. i know my threshold of safe does not equal my kids’ grandmother’s definition of safe – and that is normal and okay and we cannot become critical or judge others who are led differently but should, rather, simply assume that they are being led differently – even when we don’t understand.

  • http://twitter.com/marilyngard Marilyn Gardner

    Growing up we were in three different situations where the country I was living was declared ‘unsafe’ and all the expats in larger cities were evacuated. We never left. My earliest memories include little evacuation suitcases stocked with canned goods, a flashlight, water, and set of clothes. We took those to boarding school ‘just in case’. I clearly remember as a child in the war where Bangladesh became Bangladesh, the day my parents and other mission leaders decided it would be wise to leave, a cease-fire was declared so we stayed. Then as an adult during Desert Storm – we stayed put while many around us were evacuated. My daughter has lived in Egypt the last 3 years one block from Tahrir Square where the uprising continues in various forms. I say that purely for context – I like how you’ve given the risk-benefit analogy and the questions you’ve asked are good ones. But one question that was not asked was this: How are you perceived by the people who you work, live, and recreate with who don’t often have the choice of whether to leave or not? I think it was Libby Little, the late Tom Little’s wife, who said that it made such an impact on their neighbors that they weren’t leaving Afghanistan – that they were staying put because this was their home. And she faced the heart-breaking consequence. But one of the women who tragically lost a son in that same event where Tom was killed said that all her Afghan women friends had lost one or more sons – who was she to cry out to God that it was unfair. If it’s just a place we live and serve for a bit it’s one thing, if it gets in our blood and becomes our adopted home – perhaps the response is different. Safety is relative- people ask us all the time why we go, why our kids go, why we lived in ‘unsafe’ places. But we lived one summer in one of the most dangerous places in Washington DC and I was terrified. I felt I couldn’t take my kids outside for fear of a gun fight or robbery.

    • http://twitter.com/JustSchneider Justin

      Thank you so much for this insight. I ask questions as a person who wonders. You ask questions as a person who has experienced. A significant point you made that writers on this blog have discussed and friends of mine continue to discuss is the concept of home. The Littles were not just called to be evangelizers; they became friends, a part of the community, and found a home.

      The danger you discuss in DC is just like the “Dangerous” link I refer to above. My heart goes out to those in Afghanistan and those in DC and all of the others across the world who are afraid for their children’s safety every day. I pray for them.

  • hermanojuancito

    I’ve lived here in Honduras for almost six years – living through a coup and now in a country with the highest murder rate in the world (though it’s relatively calm where I live and work.)

    I am single (and 65 years old) and so that does make a difference but I am here to work with the Catholic Church and that means for me that my safety isn’t the main concern. That doesn’t mean that I don’t take precautions. But it means that my family, my home is here.

    I also have learned to trust the local people i work with. They have helped me innumerable times (especially when the truck has broken down in remote aras.) That for me is critical – learning to trust those we work with.

    I also feel that I am here to be with the people. A few years ago, before the coup, when some US folks were expecting violent invasions, a friend asked me if I would leave. I said “No.” I’m here with the people I serve.

    Just today the priest I work with in a rural parish talked about the risk that it means to work with the poor from the standpoint of the Gospel. I sensed an undertone of the possibility of suffering, because we had just been talking about Archbishop Romero and Bishop Gerardi, both martyrs for the Gospel, the poor, and the truth.

    I can understand taking careful measures – especially when there are families. But if safety becomes our highest priority, I wonder if we are being faithful to the Gospel and to the poor we work with. In some ways, the pursuit of safety – of absolute security – is a spiritual question, not just in terms of our relationship with God and trusting in his Providence, but also in terms of our spirit of solidarity with the poor.

    “I’m with you until my life’s in danger – and then you can deal with the danger yourself,” is a somewhat cynical way of putting it, but I wonder if there’s more than a grain of truth in that.

    A question is: for whom are we here?

    • http://twitter.com/JustSchneider Justin

      Exactly. That last question is a wonderful way to frame the question. Thank you for that. As a person working with the church in Honduras, are you working specifically with an organization or on your own? Were there people who wanted you to return to your home country? What did you tell them? Keep up the good work and be called.

      • hermanojuancito

        I am here as an individual, supported for the first five years by the parish where I served as a lay campus minister for 24 years; but I came here asking the bishop if I could be of assistance. He said yes but we have no money. Now I’m getting social security and am working more with a rural parish.

        No one ever pressured me to return to the US. Even my friend who asked me if I would leave expected my answer to be no.

        When people here ask me how much longer I’ll be here, I respond: “Hasta que Dios quiera” – as long as God wants it. The smiles of satisfaction are a source of strength for me.

        That’s my way of translating what I say in English: “until God calls me somewhere else,” and the somewhere else might – please God – be Heaven.

        One frustration, though, is the overwhelming concern for security that some people have. I am especially troubled when they only use what the US State Department says in their decisions, sometimes without consulting the people on the ground.

        But I am sustained in my mission here especially by the presence of a few US friends, Franciscan sisters, who work in a town an hour away. One of them, who introduced me to the bishop here, has had about 30 or more years of mission experience – living in Chile under Pinochet and in El Salvador, ministering in a war zone with four other US sisters.They stayed, even walking out to rural villages in the midst of fighting – and burying the dead. The sisters here are a support, but Nancy and the others who ministered in El Salvador during the war are an inspiration.

        • Britney Smith

          I second your frustration about people only looking at what the US State Dept. puts out as travel warnings. I live in Haiti. I don’t feel unsafe. We have teams traveling in and out all the time that are not in danger, but there are people who refuse to come because of the travel warnings from the state dept. so frustrating.

          • hermanojuancito

            It feels worse when it is a decision of the church that is seeking relationship with the parish where I work and the US church announces their decision without consultation. I guess part of this ends up sharing in the frustration of the people and their experiences of being rendered a bit voiceless and powerless.

  • Missy Damon

    Just a thought…. Yes, we can say that we aren’t call to be “safe” but in our attempts to prove our true calling, let us not forget that sometimes just our being where we are puts our neighbors in even greater danger. It’s one thing to be willing to sacrifice self and maybe even your own family, but will your sacrifice “drag down” those you’re ministering to as well.

    • http://twitter.com/JustSchneider Justin

      Excellent point, Missy. I have this concern with some of my friends who are ministering to people in a closed country. While they have an opportunity to go to a Western church on Sundays, for the locals to do so, it means they put their lives at risk to go to a place where they are foreigners in their own country. Can you think of some examples when it might be GOOD to leave (for the sake of our friends and neighbors)?

      • Missy Damon

        Yes, I was thinking of something similar. I know someone who works in a closed country and “defies” the government by the work he does there. All well and good for him as a foreigner. He once spent the night in prison and was deported from the country. I think his national co-workers might count the cost a bit more dearly. It is probably dangerous for them just to be associated with him now. And even government sanctioned work in this country has the potential of being suspended by this person’s “zeal”.

  • http://www.facebook.com/BaytaSchwarz Bayta Schwarz

    At a recent member care conference, we watched the movie “Of God’s and Men” as an intro to discussions about risk and a “Theology of Suffering”. It’s the true story of a group of French monks in Algeria who in the face of increasing threat have to decide whether to stay or to go. In the end, they decide to stay and end up being murdered. Very moving and extremely thought provoking!

    • http://twitter.com/marilyngard Marilyn Gardner

      I love that movie – wonderful that you brought this into the conversation and great idea to use it as an intro to risk and ‘going’.

    • http://www.facebook.com/richelle.wright Richelle Wright

      powerful movie and very relevant to this topic.

  • JES

    Please be praying for colleagues facing this question today in the Central African Republic. 10 years ago, our family did evacuate, with 3 small children… Our local friends and colleagues felt abandoned, but wanted us to leave because of what might have happened to us and them if we stayed (rape, injury or death of an expat is worse to handle than for one of their own citizens…). God brought good things out of that terrible time, inspite of us and our decisions and policies… Now it’s happening again. Our local colleagues have established a trigger point for expat colleagues to leave, and if it happens, they will feel terrible, left behind; my colleagues currently in country will feel terrible if they leave; and for those of us who did the same thing 10 years ago, we will never forget.
    There is no right answer, but a foundation of mutual openness and trust and love in the Lord goes a long way to help comfort those who cannot leave.

    • http://www.facebook.com/richelle.wright Richelle Wright

      very difficult situation for your friends – missionary and local. appreciated very much your last sentence. not us, in particular, because the nature of my husband’s ministry keeps us in the capital city- but many of our colleagues have been escorted to a safer zone by local authorities – who do not want to be responsible or call any additional attention to their locale by the presence of foreigners. one country over, any believer who could fled and our now living as refugees. the missionaries went with them and are continuing the work among them there.

      what is so key in this question is to realize that there will not be a black and white always right, always wrong answer. when our actions are based on loving and obeying God and loving our neighbors, then each one is making the choice s/he needs to make as an individual or as a family. international workers and those who partner with them need to practice honoring the decisions other international workers make, rather than critiquing them, particularly if they are not part of the situation.

  • Abigail

    I’m a “leaver.” Granted, my experience was on a summer missions trip, not during a long-term/life commitment that most of you have made. I was on a team of five college students sent to a rarely visited (by Americans), but typically safe, African country for six weeks to support a long-term missionary family and their church plant through ESL classes. Halfway through, the 12 year-old daughter of the missionaries was essentially raped less than a block from the church building. The attacker was part of a gang that had it out for the local right hand man of the missionaries. Now the missionaries themselves were in danger.

    Our sending organization seemed to have a “at the hint of danger we pull you” evac policy. But then they had the parents of college students to deal with if they didn’t. Our team, of course, was split over whether to stay or go, but we had no say in the matter. At the last minute, a church in France said they would take in our team for the duration of our trip. So we spent three weeks in France doing ESL and processing what happened in Africa. It goes without saying that France was so different from the African country: in the culture, the missionaries, the response of the ESL students, etc. The missionaries in Africa, however, stayed. A year later at a missions conference, I ran into the husband. They were still there. But the situation with the gang hadn’t really improved and it didn’t seem like his daughter had gotten any counseling/help.

    Now, over a decade later, I wonder what it would have looked like had our team stayed. Or if the missionaries had gone on emergency furlough to address the trama done to their daughter and the rest of their family. I wonder about the response of the 50 ESL students we abruptly left in Africa–what was their reaction when their American “teachers” suddenly disappeared without warning mid-way through their scheduled classes? On the other hand, had we stayed, we would have missed seeing the amazing way God’s hand works in France.

    Sometimes we have a choice whether to leave or stay. Sometimes it’s forced upon us. Either way and in whatever decision is ultimately made, I believe God does work it all for the good of His people, the stayers, the leavers, and the local church in the host country.

    • http://www.lauraparkerblog.com/ Laura Parker

      Wow, Abigail, thanks for sharing your story. Sounds like a pretty tragic one on many, many levels. My heart first and foremost, honestly, goes out to that daughter . . . . I hate that it seemed like she hadn’t gotten counseling. Gosh, my heart just really hurts for her tonight.

      You are right in that sometimes we don’t get to make the call. Our organization or leadership does, and we have to leave with that and the fall out of their decisions. I see what you are saying though about the abrupt leaving of 50 ESL students and the message that communicates to the locals . . . ouch. And yet, and yet, there is wisdom there, too, in pulling you perhaps. Who knows?

      Through it all, I loved your last sentence. YES.

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