Car Shopping in Wartime
So many stories are coming out of the current undeclared war between the U.S., Israel, and Iran. A little over two weeks in, some are saying it’s a total success, others say the opposite, and calls abound for an “off ramp.” Our leaders don’t seem clear on their goals, except that this will be “short.” I don’t know much about military engagements and tactics, but it seems somewhat premature to reach any of these conclusions—for the U.S., two weeks after Pearl Harbor was not the time for a victory celebration or pronouncements about how long it would take. But that isn’t what I want to write about.
The stories that matter to me are those coming from my friends and co-workers in the area, specifically in Erbil, in northern Iraq. My work has me there for about 10 weeks every year, and my most recent trip ended in January in the run-up to the current conflict. We weren’t sure when it would start, but we knew it was coming. The bombings began the night we got home.
There were immediate actions taken. My March return to Erbil and the sessions I had scheduled were cancelled. It wasn’t a hard call, since all commercial air traffic was (and is) halted. For me, this has led to a less crowded schedule, but also uncertainty about when we will resume. Like most of us, I’m hopefully waiting to see what results from all of this.
For my Iraqi friends, it is a very different situation. The combination of unpredictable nightly explosions, debris falling from the sky, small children crying, and homes shaking isn’t something we are familiar with. The good news of missiles and drones intercepted carries with it the reality of large chunks of debris falling from the sky and landing…anywhere. The accompanying video, sent a few days ago, shows debris that landed in our office neighborhood being moved off the road.
Our team took advantage of the opportunity to leave the target area for a quieter place where we also serve. After around a week, they felt it was time to return home. Besides, there was work to be done.
Our team leads a relief ministry that provides food and encouragement to refugee families, and they had already hosted children’s programs and helped get food out in the safer area. Now, they returned home to evaluate the situation and attend to their homes and the ongoing business of caring for families.
One item on the agenda was replacing a long-serving but increasingly fragile minivan with a vehicle capable of carrying the whole team and relief supplies. Every week, teams have to travel significant distances throughout the region to serve hundreds of families, picking up and distributing large bags of food. A reliable vehicle is a must and, war or not, needs to be secured.
So, our office team went to the dealership where they had been negotiating, and they bought a new car—a 2026 Ford Everest SUV. The funds raised, plus a trade-in and a significant discount (maybe the dealer wanted the vehicle gone before debris fell on it), sealed the deal. Our guys drove the new SUV home.
Then the bombs started again. The worst attack yet left everyone rattled, and very quickly, it was decided a second trip to the evacuation site was warranted. And so it was that our new vehicle’s first mission was as “Evacuation Everest.” So far, this and every trip and. back and forth have been without incident, but all travel on the roads carries with it the uncertainty of what might happen.
What struck me about all of this was the irony of dodging missile debris and planning evacuations while also coordinating food distributions, children’s programs, and buying a new car. Do you see yourself looking at your to-do list one morning, listening to see if there are explosions nearby, and saying, “Well, it’s quiet—let’s go car-shopping!”?
I am humbled by these courageous, young co-workers. And I use “courageous” purposely, because courage is not the lack of fear, but taking action in spite of fear. Our team is dealing with difficult realities while taking the needed steps to keep their lives together and the work going. I can’t think of a more concrete example of living out one’s trust in God. I’m anxious to get back to them when I can.
