Refuge in Christ

“Was it worth it?”

My family and I recently celebrated our 45th anniversary of coming to America as refugees. Every year, I ask my parents, “Was it worth it?” and “Would you make the same choices again if you could?”

My parents respond by reflecting on their lives during and after the Vietnam War. They were faced with complying with the government or risking imprisonment, life in a concentration camp, or death.

They fled their home country to secure freedom for themselves and their four children, ending up in a refugee camp in the Philippines. It was there that my mom learned she was pregnant. This was the most traumatic season of their lives as they grieved the losses they had endured. The idea of bringing a baby into that environment was not welcomed.

No going back

But God demonstrated His love and compassion to them through humanitarian aid workers who offered food, shelter, water, and kindness. God sent a missionary pastor from the U.S. who shared the hope of Jesus Christ with my parents. He told them not to fear giving birth in the refugee camp.

The pastor dedicated that baby—me—to the Lord and told my parents I would grow up to love and glorify the Lord. He explained that my worth and dignity weren’t determined by the circumstances of my birth but by the fact that I was made in the image of my Father in Heaven, who knew me and formed me even before I was in my mother’s womb.

God’s grace for us didn’t end with the pastor. A church in the U.S. gave sacrificially and sponsored us, and we resettled here in 1979. I’ve heard some share this experience with excitement at the prospect of a new life in a new country. While my family appreciated the opportunity, arriving in the U.S. was a continuation of our journey of grief. Once we stepped off the plane, there was no going back, and my parents wondered if they would ever see their family or community again.

First generation

God did not forsake us in our suffering. We didn’t have Bethany Christian Services case managers walking alongside us in those early days. But church and community members helped us find shelter and food and taught my dad just enough English to help him get a job.

My brother’s favorite memory after we arrived in the U.S. involved his third-grade teacher asking the class what they wanted for Christmas. He shared that he didn’t know what Christmas was but had seen a commercial with a train set around a tree, and he thought that would be fun.

That evening, his teacher and her church community showed up at my family’s doorstep with a Christmas tree, decorations, presents, and a train set. They shared a meal with us and told us the story of Christmas.

For generations, our family in Vietnam practiced multiple religions, including Buddhism, Taoism, and Confucianism. Before becoming refugees, my parents practiced no faith. I’m the first generation to have been raised in the Christian faith because faithful individuals and communities obeyed the call to serve the most vulnerable with the gifts and resources they had been given.

New legacy

My parents, who had come from a small community with no running water or electricity and no access to medical care or education, now watched their six children grow up with food security and access to health care and education. They not only watched me graduate high school and obtain my undergraduate degree but watched as I crossed the stage to receive my juris doctorate.

Now, I have the privilege of serving as general counsel for Bethany Christian Services, where I support staff endeavoring to serve God and care well for the most vulnerable children and families in our communities.

Growing up, our family used to pray for everyone God sent in our path—from the early days in the refugee camp to the pastor who shared the gospel to the church and community members who helped us figure out life in the U.S. when we had lost our home, family, culture, and language. We didn’t always remember their names, but I promise you we remembered the simplest kind gestures they provided.

Finding refuge

To answer my question, “Was it worth it?” my parents affirm they would make the same choice they made 45 years ago despite the pain. They could focus on what they lost but choose gratitude for what they gained. In one generation, our family has gone from faithless to faithful. My dad was a fisherman who became a fisher of men. I grew up lamenting my refugee status but now count it an honor to be an exile in this world because Christ has prepared a place for me and calls me a citizen of heaven.

I’ve often heard Bethany mentioned as a place of refuge, but I’m an attorney and value accuracy. I would say that refuge isn’t found in a place. It’s found in a person—even more precisely, in Jesus Christ. He is our source of hope, faith, love, and refuge.