Former Hostage: With God's Help, You Can Survive Anything

For nearly seven years he was held captive, beaten and brutally tortured by a group of Shiite Muslim extremists in Lebanon.

Nearly a decade following his release from captivity, former hostage Terry Anderson struggles to reconcile the lingering anger deep inside with the demand of his Christian faith to forgive the terrorists who shattered his life.

Anderson spoke of his ordeal during his keynote address at North Park University's Axelson symposium Wednesday as part of The Axelson Center for Nonprofit Management program.

Anderson was the Associated Press bureau chief assigned to Beirut, Lebanon, when he was seized by terrorists while driving along a Beirut street March 16, 1985. It was a beautiful day in what Anderson described as a beautiful, modern, European-style city. A car pulled alongside his. Several young men jumped out, brandishing guns and ordering him into the back seat of their vehicle.

"They pushed me down on the floor in the back," Anderson recounted. His head was covered with a blanket and guns were poked into his neck. A short time later, he was sitting in a small cell on a cot, wearing only his boxer shorts with his hands cuffed and eyes blindfolded.

Over the ensuing months and years, he had plenty of time to ponder the question "why?" As he searched for the meaning in all of it, a thought came to mind. He asked one of his guards for a Bible to read. The next morning, a new English-language copy of the RSV version of scripture was dropped on his bed. Six and a half years later, the well-worn book remained by his side at the time of his release on December 4, 1991.

"The Bible - that's a tough book," Anderson said. "Imagine sitting in a cell, chained to a wall for six years. Then you open that book and it says love your enemy. Forgive. Now there's a test of faith."

A self-described agnostic who spurned his Catholic upbringing, Anderson had experienced a restlessness in his life that drew him into a period of deep reflection. His personal life was in a shambles, his marriage lost. It was during a visit to England that he wandered into a church in a small village - one with a tall spire topped by a cross. "I sat down, looked at the cross and altar and prayed. I really didn't have anything in particular to say. But, I felt comfortable - this is where I belong. I am a Christian."

Eight weeks later he was back in Beirut contemplating his new revelation when, suddenly, that March day came along. "They (captors) didn't like Americans and they didn't like me," Anderson said. They would sit on his chest, poke guns into his face and neck and threaten him with death. For one 24-day stretch, he was kept chained continuously to the wall, released only once a day to use the bathroom.

"There were times I didn't think I could get through another day," Anderson confessed. "They were very, very difficult times." He turned to prayer, but soon realized he was praying for the wrong things.

"I prayed to be set free," Anderson said. "I promised God I'll be good. Can I go home now? I made vows. It wasn't until I learned to stop praying for freedom and pray instead for strength and faith that I received an answer," he continued. "Somehow, you will find the strength to do it, because God is answering your prayer."

If there is a lesson to be learned, Anderson says it is this: You can do what you have to do, and with God's strength, you will do it. And you will do it with a little grace and a little dignity."

And what of the struggle to forgive? "After the captivity I was angry," Anderson said. "I hated those men. Then, you come to the Lord's Prayer and the sense of just how badly you need forgiveness. You remember all of the bad things you've done." In order to receive forgiveness, the prayer suggests one must be willing to give it in return. And that's the tough part for Anderson.

"Forgiveness is a process," Anderson said. He is encouraged in that journey by his wife's admonition: "You can't have the joy if you keep the anger."

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