In Borrowed Houses: A True Story of Love and Faith Amidst War in Lebanon

by Frances Fuller

" In Borrowed Houses is the story of Frances Fuller's years with a Christian publishing house in Lebanon, years of constant warfare and heartache, marked by flashes of humor, grace, and beauty. In her richly detailed memoir, Fuller captures both the heartache and the grace. While she and her husband, Wayne, transform a derelict 'borrowed house' into a thing of beauty and a haven, the land around it is being torn apart. And we get stories-of neighbors and friends, coworkers and strangers. In these stories, Frances Fuller's writing comes vividly alive, and we come to know Lebanon and see its grandeur and the strength and faith of its people."
-Bob Klausmeier, former book editor for Augsburg Fortress and Lion Publishing, plc "Wise, honest, sensitive, funny, heart-wrenching, and a compelling In Borrowed Houses will pull you in, and it will change you. Frances Fuller has a sharp eye for human natures of all sorts, and she knows a great deal about how life should be lived. Who would think that the story of years spent in a war zone can make you laugh out loud? This one does. And then it goes much further. Read it. You'll be glad you did."
-Jeanne Larsen, author of the Silk Road trilogy and Why We Make Gardens [& Other Poems] "A wonderful read, beautifully written, the pages infused with love."
-Pat Alexander, former editor, Lion Publishing, Oxford, England " In Borrowed Houses is a pearl of great price. Articulate and restrained, Frances Fuller writes a captivating story for readers of all persuasions. She enlightens us with her inclusive compassion. Given the events in the Middle East since the Arab Spring, especially in Syria, these stories are more timely than ever."
-Larry Brook, author, educator, and writer trainer

308 pages, Hardcover

First published December 19, 2013

Reviews

[Amy Rogers · Rating 5 out of 5]

Last year at the Northern CA Publishers and Authors Book Awards banquet I bought some previous award winners, among them Frances Fuller’s IN BORROWED HOUSES. Fuller’s book blew me away. It’s a beautifully written memoir of her life as a Christian publisher working in Lebanon during the civil war years of the 1980s. There is so much truth here. By viewing Lebanon and the war through Fuller’s eyes, readers will see the present-day Middle East wars in a new, more compassionate light. Real people with real families live through these wars. Fuller, having been one of them, describes the day-to-day complications of snipers and air raids. But bullets aren't the focus of her book. The story here is community, connection, family, love, and grace. Fuller and her husband stayed, even when they had every reason to return to the US. Why? Read this book and you will understand—and admire this courageous, big-hearted woman.

[Lindsey Paris-lopez · Rating 5 out of 5]

Involuntarily hosting a goat in her living room, while tremendously inconvenient, turned out to be one of the more benign adventures. Living as a missionary for Baptist Publications, part of the Near East Baptist Mission, during the Lebanese Civil War, Frances Fuller narrowly avoided sniper fire and suicide bombers, shared tears and embraces, worked hard, prayed harder, and above all manifested the wondrous love of Christ. With wisdom, pathos, humility and humor, Frances tells in exquisite detail the stories that make up her life in Lebanon. Absurd, terrifying, and joyful experiences are interwoven through the fabric of day-to-day living, held together by faith in the extraordinary God to whom Frances testifies. “In Borrowed Houses” is more than an autobiography, it is a love story for a war-torn yet resilient nation.

Violence is contagious, but ultimately love is stronger, all-embracing and transformative. While Frances’s vivid reflections upon the war in Lebanon illustrate the former point, her life bears witness to the latter truth. The same love that compels Frances to travel to Lebanon to produce Christian material in Arabic is reflected in the people she meets who help each other survive and comfort one-another in grief through the trials and tragedies of war. All of this love comes from the same Source, the Living Love that shapes Frances even as she submits to being an instrument of it. The peacemaking and reconciliation that flow from this love is illuminated on the pages of her story.

The “goat-in-the-living-room” saga is one of the more amusing anecdotes that evoked sympathy along with giggles from this reader. More than just an anecdote, however, this incident in Frances’s life is also portrayed as a window to some of the wisdom her experience imparted. While furloughed in America, the house that she and her husband Wayne had selected but not yet renovated was overtaken by neighbors who needed a more secure shelter because of the fighting. The experience of having her own house “borrowed” provoked a rather mimetic reflection touching on the ubiquity of injustice and humanity’s tendency to pass it on:

"[I]n having my own house seized unjustly, I tasted, only tasted, like merely touching my tongue to it, the bitterness of a host of people – Palestinians who lost both house and country, citizens of Beirut who had aided refugees and then been victimized by them, Lebanese in the grip of a foreign army, the Jews of Europe dragged from their homes to death camps, Christian Armenians massacred by the Turks, the Native Americans who were killed or pushed off their lands, Africans carried away into slavery, old ladies whose small, loved corners were sacrificed for a new freeway, and long lists of people down through history who were victimized by tyrants or invaders of thieves or arsonists."

The antidote to this bitterness and the cycle of injustice it perpetuates is empathy that comes from a learning, listening presence. Frances provides this presence for the people of Lebanon as well as for the Holy Spirit within herself, allowing Love to work miracles. One of the most poignant passages in the book describes how Frances witnessed reconciliation between a Palestinian family and a man from a Lebanese town that had committed a massacre against Palestinian refugees. The man, Jean, had found it in his heart to love a people he had been taught were the enemy, saying, “[A]fter all, the Lord did tell us to love our enemies.” Jean and others from his Maronite village went into the refugee camps with tea and cookies, ears to listen and arms to embrace, sharing the Bible only after asking and receiving permission. He came to Frances asking for Christian materials to share, and later also asking her to provide a listening presence for some of the lonely women refugees. While providing Christian materials for these families, the reconciliation she witnessed between people who might have been destined to be enemies, the compassion she felt between them, the love she herself gave and received, infused her, too, with a reinvigorated understanding of the Gospel. She writes,

"In time I realized that, just as the massacre in the camp exposed the raw evil in human beings and threatened to unravel my last scrap of confidence in the people around me, what happened afterwards gave me a glimpse of the amazing possibilities that still existed. I heard Jean say, “I could go and live with the Palestinians,” and I heard Um Na’im say, “Jean is like a son to me.” Twice there seemed to be hope for the human race, and Jesus sounded sane."

Jesus sounded sane. What an amazing statement. We worship him as Lord and Savior, but we are reluctant to follow his teachings that run contrary to our world’s logic of violence. That logic of violence ends in massacres and persecutions, shooting sprees and drone strikes, yet in times of terror we tend to take up arms rather than open them. Following Jesus in loving our enemies is something I like to talk about but have never had the opportunity to actually do in matters of life and death. It seems like an impossible risk. And yet, Frances witnessed this irresistible love, the only thing that can reverse the contagion of violence in its tracks. She saw “natural enemies” embrace and call each other family. Is this not exactly what Jesus calls us to do, what God did in Jesus when He was born into a hostile world to reconcile it to Himself?

This is not to say that all questions of peace and violence were reconciled in Frances’s mind during her time in Lebanon. There have been times when violence has seemed tragically necessary, and Frances has born witness to those who have claimed that violence has saved their lives. Sometimes, violence can protect, but never without cost, and rarely without blowback. In her own words again:

"And now I have to admit that intellectually I never untangled all the contradictions of war and morality – all those perceived necessities that make people fight; the discrepancy between the commandment not to kill and the orders quoted in the Old Testament stories; the presumed duties that conflict with humane and civilized impulses, as well as the teachings of the New Testament; the example of the early Christians and the compromises of “just war” philosophies; the selfless courage and the bestiality; parades and flags and blood coagulating in the streets; the fear that drives all of it.

The clarity I had then and the clarity I have now is this: I hate war, and in my Christian gut I know this hatred is right. Living in a world so wicked that it tries to solve its problems by killing people, I recognize my participation and guilt, and I speak up now and then for peace. I pray for peace. I vote for peace."

And with “In Borrowed Houses,” Frances raises her voice for peace to the world. I desperately hope that the world listens. With war raging in the Middle East, in Syria and Iraq and Palestine and beyond, Frances’s words of wisdom are timely, and her witness of compassion is essential.

It is clear that the relationships Frances had with the people and land of Lebanon changed her life; moreover, simply reading her story has changed mine. As I let her witness permeate to my heart, I am moved to take risks for the sake of Christ and all of God’s children, to be more patient, more diligent, more present in the world. Like the Saint with whom she shares a name, Frances is an instrument of God’s peace and a role model for me. I cannot recommend “In Borrowed Houses” highly enough.

[Jason · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book affected my gut. It drew me into the tension and emotions so well that it moved me deeply. The strongest effect of this book is that it humanizes the past and present people and conflicts of Lebanon. It made me want to love Lebanon like Francis--to love any place and people so deeply that I would describe my heart as "ripped out" if someone forced me to leave. The unimaginable terrors and triumphs, the tapestry of joy and fear, life as Francis Fuller comes out slowly but surely one anecdote at a time. The book starts rather slowly--I almost put it down--but then gathers steam like a locomotive and eventually refuses to let you off until the final station. Prepare your heart for a ride!

[Susan B · Rating 4 out of 5]

I enjoyed this well-written and interesting memoir by Frances Fuller, editor, publisher, and missionary to Lebanon in the 1960s, '70s, and '80s. I probably would have enjoyed it more if I had read it from start to finish in a more consistent manner (I was reading other books simultaneously) as it was difficult to keep track of some of the more difficult names.

Frances and her husband Wayne, along with their team of 24 other Baptist missionaries, are to be commended for their courage and perseverance in Lebanon, and for their friendship to the Lebanese, during years of violence and war.

[Kelly McCarty · Rating 5 out of 5]

I enjoyed this story about Fuller's time as a missionary in war torn Lebanon but it's sad to think that the events of this memoir were taking place when I was a little girl and things are still going badly in the Middle East in 2025.

[Beth Ann Boyd · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very much a snapshot of times to give a short overview of a longer period of time.

[Mandy Hedley · Rating 5 out of 5]

Very relevant

This was one of many relevant gems from the book- how Fuller tried to explain to "Americans when talking about refugees or the homeless— that people take up space, that a place to be is fundamental to life on earth. Without a home , people go crazy; they do self-destructive things; they become everybody’s enemy." I have been reading this book as fighting has ceased in Aleppo and so many innocent people slaughtered.

This book made me reflect a lot on our current world situation.

On a personal level, I discovered just how borrowed a home is, so this book spoke to me on many levels.

[Clara Roberts · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was an action story. There were gaps in the story but that was okay. The disappointing part of the story was accusing President Reagan of ordering the missionaries out of Lebanon without giving any supporting evidence that this was a political cause. Also requiring a personal call from Keith Parks rather than accepting the leadership of the area director Ballenger. The disregard for 1 Tim. 2:2. I take that as a command to listen to our political leaders. I remember well most of the historical events mentioned in her book.

[Amy · Rating 5 out of 5]

A wonderful collection of stories by Frances Fuller about the years she and her family spent in Lebanon. She opened my eyes to the heart of the Lebanese people; the realities of living in the middle of war; of the importance of hope, joy and faith to outlast despair and darkness; of the beauties and tragedies of people living their lives around a backdrop of political history; and of her own ever-growing faith in a God who yearns to bind up the broken-hearted in all nations.

[John Sagherian · Rating 4 out of 5]

Just finished reading my friend Frances Fuller's book, "In Borrowed Houses" - well written. It was fun and nostalgic as I met very familiar places and friends; but it was also emotionally difficult as I relived many of the experiences of the Lebanese civil war.

[Maggie Leuck · Rating 5 out of 5]

It was so great to read an Americans first hand account of that time period. I had only heard stories from my Lebanese father and family