Why Lebanon?” I had just accepted my first international position with the Adventist Development and Relief Agency (ADRA), and my family and friends were incredulous that I would leave the safety of Armenia to work there. An armed conflict had just broken out in the south, and the country was plagued with instability. “Besides,” they argued, “you don’t know a single person there.”

My answer was simple: “I don’t need to know anyone. I believe Lebanon is where God wants me to be and that He will guide and protect me while I’m here.”

My parents were worried. But as we prayed together, they reached a profound realization: Security doesn’t come from a place but from God. With their acceptance, I packed my bags and stepped into an unpredictable future.

When I boarded the plane to Beirut, I prayed, “Lord, please place someone beside me whom I can bless or who can bless me.” Soon, a young man sat beside me. He showed me kindness throughout the flight and at the airport exit asked one last time whether he could be of assistance. I politely declined, and we went our separate ways.

Imagine my surprise when I saw him at church the next Sabbath and learned he was the pastor of the Arabic-speaking Adventist church in Beirut! Of all the people who could have sat beside me on the plane, God chose a Seventh-day Adventist pastor who would look after me. This experience was a reminder of His promise, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

My first months in Lebanon were filled with excitement and challenges. I saw firsthand the struggles of refugees and vulnerable Lebanese people and had the privilege of helping to relieve their suffering. Then, the conflict escalated. One by one, airlines canceled flights to and from Beirut. Among them was my flight to Thailand, where I and several colleagues were scheduled to attend an ADRA event. I managed to secure a seat on the sole airline still operating.

I had planned to return from Thailand to Lebanon before flying home to Armenia for a visit. But by the time my meetings ended, the situation in Lebanon had worsened. Buildings were crumbling under strikes, and embassies were urging their citizens to evacuate immediately. I received word to go directly to Armenia.

I cried during the flight from Thailand, torn between obedience and sorrow. Leaving Lebanon felt like a betrayal. I had gone there to serve, not flee. The country’s pain filled my thoughts, overshadowing the steadfast care God had shown me so many times. But He didn’t let me forget for long.

I was chilly on that flight, so I pressed the call button to request a blanket. The flight attendant’s words startled me.

“Can you speak Armenian?”

“Yes,” I answered, surprised. “But how could you tell?”

She smiled. “It’s your ticket. I saw you’re flying to Armenia next. I’m Armenian too.”

She offered me a better seat where I could stretch out and some juice to refresh me. In that vast world of strangers, meeting another Armenian who provided for my needs felt like a personal embrace from God.

Upon landing, I contacted the airline through WhatsApp to request a refund for my unused ticket from Thailand to Lebanon. My heart sank when I was told it was impossible. But God wasn’t done with this story yet.

Soon, I received another message on WhatsApp. “Hi, Anush, this is the support officer who assisted you earlier. I too am Armenian,” he said, “and I want to help you get your refund. I’m risking my job doing this, but for some reason, I trust you.”

Tears filled my eyes for God had orchestrated another moment of care. “I think God touched your heart,” I responded. Little did I know my comment would begin an ongoing conversation about spiritual topics.

“I haven’t been to church or read my Bible in years,” he confided. He saw this experience as a call from God to return to Him and study His Word. At one point, he told me that he felt like he had found something he had lost.

In Armenia, I took on a communications role, urging ADRA offices around the world to raise funds for Lebanon. When the time came to return, I felt immense joy. My family, though concerned, stood firm in faith. My father’s words echoed his trust in God: “Nothing has changed since we first trusted Him when she left. Why would we trust Him less now?”

Lebanon’s future is uncertain, yet God remains faithful. Through His constant presence and provision, and the support of generous people around the world, ADRA continues to serve the most vulnerable with unwavering compassion. Every day, our Father proves His promise to never leave or forsake us.