–– Paul Schlehlein

The audio version of this article is available here: YouTube, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify.

On Thursday, 10 April, in a coastal town in South Africa, American missionary Josh Sullivan was kidnapped by four armed suspects. The location was Fellowship Baptist Church in Motherwell, a large township in Port Elizabeth (Gqeberha) in the Eastern Cape. The men apparently entered the church during a prayer service that Sullivan was leading, abducting him and taking his Toyota Fortuner. Sullivan’s wife and young children were not harmed. There are reports that he is being held for ransom.

According to police statistics, there has been a 264% increase in kidnappings in South Africa over the past decade. 

The correct response to this tragedy should be a deluge of prayers and sympathy for the Sullivan family. The church becomes a light to the world when they see that the hurt of a fellow brother becomes our own (Rm. 12:15). A good prayer to imitate is Psalm 31:15: “My times are in your hand; rescue me from the hand of my enemies and from my persecutors!”

A Warning 

However, there are also some wrong ways in which the church can respond to this tragedy. In her grief, she may inadvertently step into a landmine that will blow apart the Great Commission that Jesus gave to the church. The error is avoiding all risk. It’s circling the wagons and abolishing all forms of danger. It’s sterilising our children from hardships and bubble-wrapping them against the Amalekites that pound against the gates. 

Without mitigating the tragedy of Sullivan’s kidnapping, the global church must know that the setting in Port Elizabeth—though dangerous in its own right—is relatively tame compared to many of the missionary war zones around the world. 

In this large city, English is the lingua franca. Wealth, tar roads, car dealerships, coastal beaches, restaurants, freedom of religion, international airports and churches abound. 

If the church cowers at Sullivan’s kidnapping, they will never send missionaries to fields substantially more difficult, like Libya, where following Jesus is a matter of life and death; like Somalia, where violent militant Islamist groups such as Al-Shabaab commit to eradicating Christianity; like Yemen, where Christians face torture; like Sudan, home of the world’s largest hunger crisis; like Eretria, called the North Korea of Africa, where Christians endure government house-to-house raids; like Nigeria, where Christians are slaughtered by the thousands by Boko Haram and Fulani fighters. 

These six nations are all in Africa and comprise the top seven most persecuted nations in the world. Fathers that hold back their children from the Port Elizabeths of the world will never point to dangerous fields and say to their boys as Jobab did to Ahimaaz: “Run to it!”

When it comes to risk, how should Christians think? Should they throw all caution to the wind or instead build barriers against every form of peril? Consider the following three principles.

Three Principles for Risk

First, remember that passionately following Christ is dangerous.  

To avoid all risk is to abandon the Christian life. Paul and Barnabas “risked their lives for Christ’s sake (Ac. 15:26). Paul returned to Lystra, the place he was previously stoned. His friends said no, but Paul said yes, explaining that it is “through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God” (Ac. 14:22).  Hundreds of missionaries since have followed Paul’s example. John Paton returned to the New Hebrides, where his wife and son died of malaria. Elizabeth Elliot went back to the tribesmen that murdered her husband. James Gilmour remained in Mongolia, despite burying his wife and child there. The Apostle John said: “We ought to lay down our lives for the brothers” (1Jn. 3:16). 

Second, Christians must risk for the gospel, not adventure. 

Risk for personal visibility is wrong. Risk for Christ’s visibility is righteous.  God doesn’t bless snake-handlers, but He does honor clandestine missionaries to Pakistan, the latter far more dangerous than the former.  Jesus didn’t needlessly throw himself off the temple pinnacle to be caught by the angels (Lk. 4:9-10). Thoughtless risk only tempts God. 

Common sense is a Christian virtue. Lock your doors. Install burglar bars. Hire security. Part of being a man is protecting his family (Eph. 5:25), so do as is feasible, but never at the expense of avoiding all risk, which is impossible anyway.  

Finally, God is entitled to rescue as He sees fit. 

We should pray for Mr. Sullivan’s release. God be merciful. But we mustn’t say: “In faith, I know he will be set free.” Faith is taking God at His word, and God never promised that he would release all American missionary captives. Instead, we should pray: “Oh God, we ask and plead that our dear brother be released, but Thy will be done” (Mt. 6:10). 

Conclusion

In bygone eras, the blood of the martyrs was the seed of the church. Persecution grew missionary zeal. Let us call upon God for our brother’s release, all while praying that danger and hardship would never blunt the church’s desire to carry out the marching orders of the Great Commission.