Local pastor shares his experiences in Haiti amid gang chaos

Gangs in Haiti have done all they can in recent weeks to disrupt life on the Caribbean island, closing air and sea ports, yet unable to cut off satellite communications nor the power of prayer. That was the message the Rev. Steve Svendsen shared on the evening of March 20 with members and friends of the church he pastors, Providence Reformed Baptist Church in Rice Lake.

"We knew things were going to be rough," Svendsen said of his scheduled Feb. 26-March 10 trip to teach at the Haiti Bible Institute, a trip he has made almost 20 times, typically once or twice a year. "But instead of the gangs killing each other, they got together to overthrow the government."

Svendsen left Rice Lake Feb. 26 "armed with chocolate and $5 bills for tips." He left his truck at a Park and Go in Bloomington, Minnesota, and took a shuttle to the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport to catch an early evening flight to Dallas-Fort Worth.

"I grabbed my last American hamburger at McDonald's and slept on the floor in Dallas," he journaled. "My early flight from DFW to MIA arrived mid-morning where I met up with our American team."

In addition to Svendsen, the team included a couple from Clermont, Florida, and another man from Winston Salem, North Carolina — the four of them never envisioning what the week would bring.

The two-hour flight from Miami to Port au Prince, the capital of Haiti, was typical, except that the plane was only one-third to one-half full, he observed.

"Not too many people are heading that way these days," Svendsen said.

"We were greeted on the jet bridge by a blast of Haitian heat and in the airport by a band playing cheerful, traditional Haitian music," he said. "We went quickly through immigration and retrieved our luggage. Dragging personal and school luggage to the parking area, we were swarmed at the door as usual by 'helpers' who followed us to our transportation and asked for tips because they touched our bags. We were thankful to see the smiling face of our host, who helped us load our belongings in the back of his truck and concealed all of it under a tarp. He made a point to tell us that the tinted glass in his new truck was also bullet-resistant. He drove us through the crowded streets to his guest house with an employee at the guest house riding on top of our luggage in the back of the truck."

Classes amid conflict

Svendsen said classes began as scheduled Feb. 28, but the students had lots of contacts on the outside. By the weekend they were sharing alarming reports of the gangs releasing violent criminals on the streets, attacking police stations and firing at airplanes.

As the disturbing reports increased, other Americans in his group decided to pay extra to fly out of the country a day early on business class.

"I was going to stay an extra day and save $2,700," Svendsen said. However at the urging of his family and church friends, he was able to book a seat on business class with the others — only to find out on March 8 that the March 9 flight had been canceled. It was initially rebooked for March 22, then that too was canceled.

"With all that going on, we continued classes," said the pastor, who observed that the students who are either training to be pastors or are already pastors seeking additional knowledge did great in class discussion but 'bombed' the tests, which he attributed to having a lot on their minds.

After the final class, the students expressed their appreciation.

"The students appointed a young representative to stand and thank me, my family and my church for the sacrifice of coming to Haiti during such a tumultuous time," Svendsen said.

Rescue efforts

While Svendsen originally planned to be home by his March 13 birthday, the staff at the guest house made it special for him by going out into the dangerous streets and purchasing a pizza, barbecue wings, even a bakery cake and champagne. That was a bright spot in the ensuing week, when all of the Americans stuck at the guest house were working their phones trying to find an alternative way home.

One idea was to hire motorcyclists to drive them to the border of the Dominican Republic. Svendsen thought that sounded fun, but their guest house host said it would never work.

"Your skin, you would stick out," he said, explaining to the Americans that they would be too easy for the gangs to spot.

Another offered an armored vehicle to take them to the border for the mere price of $10,500 per person. Svendsen said it was tempting.

He said some rescue services would get their hopes up, saying "we're on our way," or "be ready," or "be prepared to go in the middle of the night," only to run in to all kinds of logistical problems.

"It was a lot of gut punches," said the pastor of the highs and lows of getting their hopes up to be rescued only for it not to happen.

So they did what all their families, friends and churches were doing back home.

"We had prayer," Svendsen said. "We asked for wisdom."

Then while Svendsen was waiting to hear back from one private rescue service, he got a call from a friend in Florida, who advised him that Congressman Cory Mills was getting people out of the country.

"It sounded attractive after so many days," the pastor said.

So the Americans contacted the congressman, who agreed to an evacuation by helicopter. That meant their suitcases of books, Bibles, clothing and other belongings had to be left behind, but by this time the Americans were fine with that.

Even though the guest house was in a gated neighborhood, still they were told to leave one at a time. Svendsen went first and sat in the front seat of a van by the driver, who had a Doctors Without Borders card and press credentials, should they be stopped — and a hand gun, if necessary.

Svendsen said Haitian streets can be rough even in the best of times and three times the driver had to back up and go a different route to get them to a hotel by the closed airport, where they were supposed to wait.

When he asked about a fire in the street, he was told some Haitians are burning their garbage there because there is no garbage collection during the current chaos.

The initial plan was to meet the helicopter at the closed airport, but the airport was too heavily guarded by Haitian police, prompting a delay. So they rented two rooms at a hotel and had what Svendsen described as "a fitful rest."

"At 1:30 a.m., I got a phone call that they found another landing site and to meet there at 4 a.m.," he said. That revised landing site was a soccer field located behind a church.

They showered, put their same clothes on, and left the hotel at 3 a.m. to get to their new meeting place. After just four or five blocks, they came upon a blockade with heavily armed police. They opened their van windows so the police could see inside, and the driver talked in Creole to the police, who fortunately waved them through.

Svendsen said he felt an "inordinate fear" that their van was being followed, and he found out it was indeed being followed for their protection.

"We drove into a nice, quiet neighborhood," Svendsen said. "The church had a big yard and a soccer field."

Mills, being a military veteran, gave them a precise landing spot from GPS coordinates. He said the helicopter blades would be kept going and they had two minutes to board single file with 10 others also fleeing the country.

As they waited they were guessing from which direction the helicopter would come. Soon it appeared from the southwest, dropped down amid debris flying, scooped them up with 17 total on board, and lifted off, leaving what Svendsen described as "a little tornado" behind them.

The pastor said the helicopter ascended slowly at first, and he wondered if there was too much weight and someone might have to get off. But the pilot was just maneuvering around some trees.

"Once we cleared the trees, we went up and we headed for the hills," Svendsen said.

He said they were all more lighthearted after flying out of Haitian airspace, and weapons were stowed away, but it was also a sobering moment.

"I was thinking there are a whole lot of people left behind — a thousand Americans, thousands more Canadians and Haitians who can't leave," Svendsen said. "As thrilled as I was to get out of the country, I pray for those still there."

Svendsen said the congressman had taken care of all the details at the airport in Santo Domingo, the first airport they reached in the Dominican Republic, so they breezed through immigration. It was also at that airport that Svendsen was able to get his first taste of home.

"I got a big American hamburger, fries and bottled water for $19.50," he said.

From there, it was on to airports in Miami, Chicago and Minneapolis, where a shuttle took him back to his truck, although he had to pay double for leaving it there an extra week. Compared to all that he had been through, that didn't even bother him. He said he wouldn't even have cared if the truck had been taken, he was just so glad to be back. He finally arrived home the afternoon of March 18 to find his wife Sarah had already bought new clothes for him to replace the ones he had to leave behind in Haiti.

Since then he has been telling and retelling his experiences to their nine children and 16 grandchildren as they welcome him back.

At last Wednesday evening's gathering, Caleb Svendsen, second to the oldest, said, "There were a lot of people praying. It was a situation where you just had to trust. When it is out of your hands, you rely on the Lord."

He said although communication with his dad was sporadic at times, they were able to group chat as a family, which helped during the unsettling time.

Meanwhile at the Baptist church in Rice Lake, elders Chris Lancaster and Tim Borstad kept all programming at the church going in their pastor's absence. They even increased their one night a week prayer service to three nights a week, trusting that God would see to their pastor's safe return.

"There was concern when Sarah forwarded us the State Department announcement urging U.S. citizens to evacuate," Lancaster said. "That made us concerned. We weren't sure how long he was going to be stuck there."

Svendsen thanked the community for their prayers, calls and messages of support on social media.

"There's nothing like knowing you are loved and supported at home," the pastor said. "It really helped us feel that things were going to be OK."

Nine lessons

At his first time back in the pulpit Sunday after three weeks, Svendsen shared nine lessons he learned as one who has been rescued and how they apply to all "redeemed refugees" who await leaving for their home in heaven.

They are: recognize danger, travel light, treasure what lasts, tell your story, enjoy your traveling companions, have a heart for those in captivity, enjoy the journey, long for home, and be ready to go at a moment's notice.

Giving an explanation of each, Svendsen said it is important to recognize danger and flee from it. His rescuer told him "fear is a reaction, courage is a decision."

As for traveling light, he had to leave behind the 50 pounds he journeyed to Haiti with but said that's OK. He said the weight of earthly possessions can cause those redeemed by God to lose sight of better things awaiting them in heaven.

He advised to treasure relationships above all else.

The pastor encouraged everyone to tell their story but to make sure they are not the hero. He said you don't have a story if you don't have a rescuer and that all those who have been rescued, or redeemed by God, have a story to tell.

He said through their circumstances a strong bond formed among his traveling companions. He felt melancholy as they left Haitian airspace knowing so many others there desperately want to leave.

As for enjoying the journey, Svendsen admitted some excitement as they considered all modes of transportation to get out the country.

He said it's normal to long for home, a place where we belong, and for the redeemed of the Lord to long for their eternal home.

As for being ready to go at a moment's notice. Svendsen said they lived like that for a week in Haiti, awaiting their escape, not knowing when a form of rescue would occur. Life is a vapor, he said, and we never know when it's going to be done so to make future plans in pencil.