Gunfire cracked through the air in sharp, echoing bursts. Samir Torres* pulled his family deeper into the hallway of their apartment, away from the windows and the threat of stray bullets.

When will the rescue team get here? Samir wondered. He scrolled urgently through incoming texts, hoping for word that evacuation efforts were underway.

Finally, a message came, but its contents were crushing: the crossfire in their zone was too intense for the extraction team to reach them. Help wasn’t coming.

What now? The unspoken question weighed heavily on the family.

From the beginning of the war, Samir had encouraged his family to focus on the promises of God’s deliverance. But now there was no avoiding the possibility that they might die.

With that realization came unexpected peace. Despite the disappointing message, they knew without a doubt that they were where God wanted them to be. He had called them there, and with every step of their journey, they had chosen to follow His leading. 

Eight years earlier, Samir and his wife, Eva, had arrived in another Middle Eastern country to serve. They felt called to share the gospel with people who might never hear it except through personal connection.

“We were on fire,” Eva recalls. “We came with ideas, willingness to try new things, and eagerness to mingle with our neighbors. But even though we made some friends and had some valuable interactions, there were obstacles we couldn’t get around.” 

Government restrictions made meaningful relationships difficult. Then a church leader approached them with another possibility: move to a different region where they could interact more freely with local people.

After fasting and prayer, the answer felt unmistakably obvious.

Now, years later and trapped in a war zone with no apparent way out, neither of them regretted that decision. Nevertheless, trusting God in that hallway became its own battle.

Lola, the couple’s daughter, tried to burn nervous energy by climbing the hallway walls, pressing her feet against opposite sides, and inching upward. She also read books, but her parents found that the best way to calm her fear was to recall how God had led them in the past.

One by one, moments of providence surfaced, and Lola began writing them down.

The family had relocated twice to stay near Lola’s school. When the school moved again, they felt impressed to stay where they were. Now they understood why. The neighborhoods where they had previously lived—and the school’s newest location—had been devastated in the fighting.

Another gift they recognized was simply being together. Samir had been scheduled to attend a church meeting, but the taxi had arrived late, keeping the family together when violence suddenly erupted in the city.

Then there was the shopping trip. Only days before the conflict began, they had stocked up on supplies. Later, those supplies helped them survive and gave them enough to share with others.

As the fighting intensified, Samir and Eva desperately searched for a way out. The Spanish consulate had announced plans to evacuate nationals using military aircraft, and the couple each contacted their respective embassies to ask whether the consulate could arrange for their evacuation as well. They were told that efforts would be made to include them.

Then another possibility emerged. The Adventist Development and Relief Agency (ADRA) director called to say the Torreses could join a humanitarian convoy, but they would need to make their own way to the meeting point.

Samir and Eva weighed their options carefully. Driving through the city meant crossing active combat zones. But remaining in the apartment waiting for a rescue that might never come carried its own risks.

“If only we could get something definite from the Spanish embassy,” Samir said.

The family knelt in prayer, pouring out their fears and asking for wisdom. When they rose from their knees, each one shared the same conviction: they believed they should wait for the Spanish evacuation.

When the ADRA director called again with the departure time and location, Samir shared their decision.

“Are you sure?” the director asked. “Foreigners are being targeted. There are kidnappings. Militia are breaking into homes.”

Samir didn’t waver. “We believe this is the path God wants us to take,” he said.

Events the next morning tested that conviction. The ADRA convoy had already departed, and the Spanish embassy, which had promised to keep in touch, was silent. 

Had they misunderstood God? Had they made the wrong decision?

(MENAUM) officers stayed in close contact with the family throughout the crisis.

“We have a plan,” Samir told them. “And we have given our lives to Jesus, trusting that He will be with us—even if we die.”

At 7:00 am, Samir sent another text to the Spanish embassy. “Do you remember us?” he asked. “Are we still part of your plan?”

To his great relief, the response came immediately.

“Don’t worry,” a woman replied. “You’re on the list. Today is the day. You need to be at the ambassador’s house by noon.”

When she gave them the address, Samir and Eva recognized God’s provision again: it was only two blocks away.

Grabbing their backpacks, the Torreses fled their apartment. Within minutes, they reached the house and descended into a crowded basement packed with evacuees. There, they waited for hours while the sounds of gunfire echoed through the building above them.

Around 3:00 pm, someone finally shouted, “It’s time!”

The group rushed toward a cluster of unarmored vehicles. But just as the convoy prepared to leave, news came that another embassy convoy had been caught in crossfire and someone had been shot. Everyone was ordered back to the basement. 

For three more hours, they waited.

Then, near sunset, the evacuation resumed. The Torres family climbed into a van with an elderly man and another family, placing Lola on the floor where she would be less exposed if bullets shattered the windows.

Fear and relief mixed inside the van as the convoy set out on the two-and-a-half-hour journey. Samir continued texting updates to church leaders, watching through the window as plumes of smoke rose in the deepening twilight. The streets were eerily quiet as militia escorted them through the city.

Eventually, the convoy reached a bridge, and the escort dropped back. Vehicle lights were switched off as they crossed slowly in the darkness. On the other side, military forces took over, guiding them through checkpoint after checkpoint until they finally reached an airbase.

And there, waiting, were the military planes.

Hundreds of evacuees crowded into a military hangar before boarding the cargo aircraft. The Torres family found space on the floor inside the plane’s cavernous interior and sat shoulder to shoulder among strangers fleeing the same nightmare.

Then the engines roared. The aircraft lifted into the darkness. And for the first time in days, they felt safe.

God had been with the Torreses through every moment of the crisis—from the cramped hallway to the night sky above the war zone. In surrender, they found peace—not in knowing the outcome, but in knowing that God was with them and that He remained in control.

*Names have been changed.