A Safe Place to Land
By John & Sara
Sara:
I didn’t know what it meant to be a refugee. A young man needed to leave his country and never return home. “Can he come to Malaysia? Can he stay with us?” I sat on our bed, listening and thinking. I’m a remarkably careful and unrushed decision-maker. I ponder and pray. Breathe. Try to see other perspectives. It can take weeks, often months. This question, however, stirred deep in me and produced an answer almost immediately.
“Yes.”
I knew there would be obstacles. I thought it might be uncomfortable and challenging. I wondered about the strength of John’s and I’s new marriage. But I simply couldn’t ignore the clear and swift “yes” that emerged within me. It felt like a simple and strong guidepost had pierced through the chatter of everyday life: “Yes. Open your home.”
~ ~ ~
John:
"Open your home."
Home? Where is home? After living out of a suitcase for 4 years, I scarcely felt at home in Malaysia. Now the Lord intended for us to open up our home to a complete stranger? We had barely even been married for 6 months. Yet, the voice of God was unmistakable. I read the text I had received to my wife. There is a young man in Syria who needs to get out and Malaysia is one of a handful of countries he can travel to without a visa. What are we going to do?
“We had barely even been married for 6 months. Yet, the voice of God was unmistakable. ”
I set up a time to talk to this young man, and after we spoke, the voice from before resounded even louder. My wife and I decided to help this young man come to Malaysia. As we slowly announced our decision to friends and family, some questions and concerns were raised, but for the most part, we felt supported in our decision to shelter a Syrian refugee. As the days grew closer, we waited anxiously to hear from him concerning his departure date as numerous obstacles seemed to push his arrival later with each update. Finally, we received word that he was coming in a week. The money we had raised and sent to Syria via Turkey had been received and tickets were bought. He was coming.
I traveled to KLIA airport to receive him, my anxious mind exploring every single worst-case scenario. The arrival board indicated that his flight had landed but as people filed into the arrival hall, he was nowhere to be seen. I checked my phone every five minutes, my cheeks flushed with heat and my heart beating faster with every passing minute. Where was he? After two hours of waiting, I received the call I was dreading. Immigration had pulled him aside for questioning and they were now requiring a guarantor to sign a release form in order for him to enter the country. The very thing I had heard from others in my research process that I dreaded was now happening to me. The call ended and for a fleeting moment, every instinct within my body told me, "Run. Get on a bus and go back home now."
I fought against my instinct to run, and presented myself to the airport police for processing. As I was fingerprinted, x-rayed, and photographed, my racing mind took me to some scary places. I was given a special pass to enter the immigration holding center. The briefing by a stern immigration officer did nothing to calm my nerves. I was to be the guarantor of H, a young Syrian man I had never met, culpable for his every action that might find itself in violation of the law. Resentment grew within me; resentment at God and resentment at H. This was not what I signed up for. We left the airport and headed for my home in the wee hours of the morning.
~ ~ ~
Sara:
When I first met H he was standing awkwardly in the hallway next to our kitchen. It was late morning. He was exhausted from his travels and quite timid to speak English. I realized we had a total stranger living in our house. He was tall, slender, and timid. He looked so out of sorts we all felt a bit helpless and uneasy. It was only the first morning but I already felt a bit panicky. I knew I was safe but the reality of what we said “yes” to was sinking in. I went into “fix it” mode: What do we do with him? Should we try to get him a job? How long will he stay? Where will he go next?
We drove to Tesco to buy him a phone plan and sandals. My unease quickly disappeared as I realized his innocent wonder and curiosity. He wanted to experience new things. Tesco captivated him. The largeness of it was unlike any market stall back home. He took pictures and smiled. We bought him shoes and looked for food he would enjoy. I was still new to Malaysia at this time and I felt a connection with him.
Quiet months passed and H kept mostly to himself. We overheard loud and energetic Arabic conversations daily, as his family and his phone were his lifelines. There’s not much to do in where we live, less so for a Syrian refugee with shy English. We tried to create rhythms of life for him and kept him busy with odd jobs like painting and cleaning people’s houses. However, H had little to no experience doing labor and it ended up creating more work for us. It’s quite funny looking back on it. At the time, though, I was really worried about how he would provide for himself when he could no longer stay with us. And, I wondered how long we could keep him occupied.
We were surprised and disappointed at his neediness. We honestly couldn’t comprehend how he had made it this far. We had to help him navigate almost every aspect of adult living: flights, transportation, income and it’s transfer, housing arrangements, visa applications. Once, we nearly missed a deadline for a visa application because the email came without H realizing it. He had never used an email account before.
“We had our expectations of how the experience was going to look like and the Lord certainly stopped short the grandiose notions I had concerning my charitable self. ”
It was frustrating that he didn’t take initiative for his life. Were we also responsible to help him navigate his next place? We didn’t sign up for this!
~ ~ ~
John:
What did I sign up for? As the months unfolded, I thought long and hard about our “yes” to the Lord and what it really meant after all. We had our expectations of how the experience was going to look like and the Lord certainly stopped short the grandiose notions I had concerning my charitable self. The noble intent I had all along was to help refugees, and now the Lord was refining that intent to reflect my truest self -- a mostly self-centered self. I was humbled over and over again, my pride wounded by His act of humbling as we were seemingly thrusted into the role of foster parents for H. We were constantly frustrated at what appeared to be laziness and apathy. With more experience now, I know that trauma looks different for everyone. Still, my compassion was never too far out of reach during the first few months. Chinese New Year came and the nightly fireworks triggered H, sounds he had come to associate with exploding bombs. One especially loud firecracker exploded near our house and the walls vibrated a little. I watched the colour drain from his face. One afternoon, H came out of his room looking particularly disheveled. As a light sleeper, I had heard him moving through the house from our room till about four or five in the morning.
I was fully prepared to give him a lecture on cultivating a healthy sleeping habit when he revealed that he had been on a video call with his girlfriend of six years. The city where she lived had been under bombardment for most of the night and the couple wanted to spend her last moments together should it come to that.
I was undone. I could not even begin to comprehend the trauma associated with war, let alone the act of preparing oneself to lose a loved one right in front of you. This shook me to my core, and I repented before the Lord, asking Him for true compassion and unconditional love, not contingent on made-beds or switched-off-lights. Everything that annoyed me seemed so trivial, and they were. At the same time, we also realized that H needed little rules of life created for him, as the war he experienced from his teens had halted the chance for him to learn and develop skills over the years. Nothing changed overnight, but I tried my best to choose love every day. Some days, I was successful; other days, I failed miserably.
~ ~ ~
Sara:
I expected to love H. I thought compassion and empathy would flow naturally from my heart. Instead, I lived in a state of perplexed irritation and bewilderment. Further complicating things were the unmet expectations I had of my new husband--expectations on how he would cope with and navigate this season. The atmosphere in our house turned heavy and filled with fearful uncertainty. It was during this time that the pandemic hit. Our plans for H’s quick visa run were hijacked by COVID-19 and his tourist visa expired. He was only supposed to stay with us for a couple of months; now, we were locked in our house with him during the MCO. Furthermore, the now muddled immigration systems and departure requirements made it impossible to carve a clear path forward. The uncertainty and constant change made my head spin. I began to wonder if he would ever be able to leave, legally. A dark fog descended on my mind and spirit. Things felt impossible and hopeless. It seemed that our very own future hinged on H’s ability to leave us and go somewhere else, anywhere else.
“Ultimately, H belonged to the Lord and we were not here to figure out his whole life for him.”
Like roots of a tree burrowing deep into the earth, I needed to grow my spiritual roots deeper and receive nourishment from God. I needed patience for H’s neediness and peace for his next landing place. I started asking God more questions about H and his time here. I set boundaries for myself in how I navigated the stress in our home. I also began to see I was not responsible for him. I had now become his friend, sharing laughs and stories. Ultimately, H belonged to the Lord and we were not here to figure out his whole life for him. We were simply here to be obedient to the part that the Lord had called us to. This understanding lifted burdens and shifted my heart posture. Slowly, like a tiny seedling pushing its head through the soil, my love for him began to grow. Soon, H’s time with us came to an end and John made arrangements for him to move to Kuala Lumpur.
~ ~ ~
John:
The plan was never for H to settle with us. His family had wanted him to find refuge in Brazil with his sister and her family. Being four hours away from the embassies he needed to visit did not help. As the first MCO drew to a close, H and I discussed a move down to KL. He was to move in with a family as we figured out his next steps together. At this point, we were beginning to see him slowly but surely take charge of his own situation. He was reaching out to various embassies, making appointments, and writing emails to diplomats for help. None of his efforts were successful and I could see that he was extremely disappointed, but I encouraged him that he was becoming independent and this was an important part of the process. As he prepared to leave, some of my stress began to dissipate and I was able to see more and more for who he really was -- a brother in Christ, a friend from a different culture. He took charge of some meal preparations and cooked for us delicious Syrian dishes. Still, there was worry in my heart concerning my status. As long as H remained in Malaysia with an expired tourist visa, I had a proverbial axe hanging over my head. H was one immigration raid away from being arrested, as we learned that many Syrian refugees had been picked up and processed for deportation. I was one unfortunate incident away from being summoned for questioning and possible prosecution. The reality sunk in deeper day by day -- we were entrusting our life in Malaysia in the hands of H as he transitioned to KL. What if he was careless and got arrested? At the same time, we could not expect him to not thrive. He had been on a good path. Internally, I was tormented everyday, wondering whether God would put us through such a situation. Many friends sought to comfort me, reminding me of the goodness of God. My response to them was it was precisely because I know that God is good, that these situations are not out of the realm of possibility. I was convinced He would sustain me through such a path should He call me to walk it. I was not entirely sure that I wanted to walk down that path.
The day after the MCO ended, H and I travelled down south and we parted ways. We kept in constant contact with him and he updated us on his embassy visits. We comforted him when he was frustrated about the lack of support for refugees, and he in turn surprised us by his complete transformation. He had become an early riser and read his Bible daily. He made friends with refugees from other countries, like Sudan, Yemen, and Somalia. He had also found some painting work that provided him with money to buy groceries and to cook for his housemates good Syrian dishes as he did with us. As we pressed further into the unknown, a door opened for H to leave Malaysia and start a new life in Kurdistan. In the end, he informed us that he decided to leave Malaysia; it was his to make all along. Exactly one year to the day after he arrived in our home, H left Malaysia.
~ ~ ~
Sara:
After H had arrived safely in Erbil, I discovered the song “A Safe Place to Land” by Sara Bareilles and John Legend. The lyrics of the chorus remind me of a refugee’s journey--leaving a tumultuous situation without knowing a safe place to land.
“The ocean is wild and over your head
And the boat beneath you is sinking
Don't need room for your bags, hope is all that you have
So say the Lord's Prayer twice, hold your babies tight
Surely someone will reach out a hand
And show you a safe place to land.”
H stayed in Malaysia for exactly a year. I see now that my home was a safe place to land; a shelter.
It was never meant to be his final destination, but a resting place where the Holy Spirit worked in his heart to make a new creation. In the year he spent with us, he was baptized and received the Holy Spirit. His English improved leaps and bounds and most importantly, he began to dream again. The once shy and awkward Syrian refugee had transformed into a confident and capable young man, dreaming about a life together with his future wife and becoming a safe place for others to land.
I like to garden. There is a common plant disease that targets only new growth. It distorts and curls the fragile new leaves, preventing proper growth. Like this disease, trauma attacks and inhibits the parts of us that grow and thrive. It distorts our vision, and robs us of our hope for a future full of wonderful things. Over the course of the year, we witnessed how our Syrian brother and friend heal from trauma. Nothing that is truly lasting happens overnight. It takes time for the sun to penetrate deep into bruised hearts, where trauma and pain continually damage the new life that wants to grow and see beyond the present to the future. A new life that wants to dream.
The end of the song paints a picture of the Gospel’s command to love the least of our brethren, as Jesus reveals in the familiar Matthew 25 passage; to show up and take care of vulnerable people right in front of us.
Be the hand of a hopeful stranger …
Be the light In the dark of this danger
‘Til the sun comes up
‘Til the sun comes up
We were the hopeful strangers in H’s life, flawed as we were. We became the light in the dark of his danger, all because we said yes. When I think about the sun coming up over H, I think about him starting to dream. God’s mercies are new every morning (Lam. 3:22,23).
I spoke to H last week. He shared about his girlfriend and their united change for God. He hopes to marry and begin a family. He’s dreaming. The thought of him brings a warm smile to my face, gently bubbling up like a stream. The joy and love I feel for him and his dear girlfriend don’t come from me. It’s truly the Father’s love, poured into my spirit. H is living proof to my feeble and fickle mind that God will come through.
“Through this process, the Lord made us a safe place to land, and I’ve come to see that safe places to land are also safe places to take off.”
John:
We who have been comforted by the Great Comforter can in turn comfort others (2 Cor. 1:4). We who have been reconciled to God can in turn bring the ministry of reconciliation to those desperately in need to know the Father (2 Cor. 5:18).
The greatest lesson I have learned through this process is that as long as we continue to press into the “yes” that we give the Lord, He will sustain us.
Things may not get easier, but He gives us a perspective that can lift us out from our depressive state of self-centered feelings. H’s story does not end with us, but in a small way, we know that we were placed in Malaysia for such a time as this. Through this process, the Lord made us a safe place to land, and I’ve come to see that safe places to land are also safe places to take off.