Documentary chronicles work of the soldier and pastor who leads the Free Burma Rangers
In a somber scene in a Burmese village, David Eubank shows a photo of the bodies of two women who were raped and killed by government soldiers to a group of resistance fighters. In a film with its share of harrowing scenes, it is one of the few in which Eubank is visibly upset.
“I do want to kill all the Burma army, no question in my mind,” he says, his head bowed in prayer. “Help me know how to forgive them. I don’t know how to do it. I only dare do that because you commanded it. I don’t want to forgive them, I just want to kill ’em. But I’ll obey you Lord, so help me to forgive them and to love them.”
Eubank and his family — wife Karen and children Sahale, 19, Suuzanne, 17, and Peter, 14 — are the subjects of the documentary “Free Burma Rangers: A Family Brings Hope to the Frontlines,” named for the aid organization he formed and has led for more than 20 years. He is a former member of the U.S. Special Forces and a pastor educated at Fuller Theological Seminary.
The organization was originally focused on helping oppressed ethnic minorities engaged in a civil war with the government of Myanmar (the resistance groups still call their country by its previous name).
As the conflicts in Iraq and Syria spawned ever greater degrees of chaos and suffering, David felt called to go there — with his wife Karen and three adolescent kids.
The documentary, produced by Deidox Films and LifeWay Films and directed by Chris Sinclair and Brent Gudgel, follows the family from southeast Asia to Iraq. They arrive during the battle for Mosul, the besieged ISIS stronghold.
The Eubanks’ strong Christian faith is woven prominently throughout the film’s narrative, but there are moments that celebrate its interfaith credo. When David and a few of his Rangers arrive at a frontline Iraqi army position, David tells the filmmakers he heard God tell him to get on his knees and pray. He thought he’d look like a “Christian nutcase” to the Muslim soldiers he just met, he says, but he did it anyway.
“When I got up, the Iraqi general said, ‘You’re just like us. You know you’re not God. You have a fear and a respect for God. You know you need God and you honor him,’” David says.
The story’s climax plays out on camera in a scene that has been viewed hundreds of thousands of times since it went viral in 2017. During a rescue operation in June of that year for survivors of an ISIS massacre, David sprints from behind a tank to grab a young girl sitting next to her mother’s dead body. The spot is exposed to heavy fire from ISIS fighters nearby, and David cradles the girl in front of him as he dashes back behind the tank, bullets kicking up dust around his feet.
In another scene, one of the Eubank daughters kneels among human skulls scattered in the dirt as David narrates that ISIS had massacred thousands of Yazidis.
Karen tells the filmmakers that she wasn’t excited about leaving Burma for Iraq. She prayed about it, she says, and felt God telling her that this was the path he had for her. “As crazy as it seems, this path I have — you and Dave together in unison, with your family — in the plan I have, being consistent, is the safest place and the richest place for you to live.”
That’s about as deep as the film delves into the ethics of taking children to conflict zones. Nor does it explore how the Eubanks navigate sharing their faith with FBR members and allies of different religions. The organization is open to anyone, David states. There are several scenes of group prayers and interviews with Burmese rangers who reference their belief in God but don’t give any background for it.
The film doesn’t touch on dicey themes like white saviorism or humanitarian work as missionizing that can be controversial in the international aid field. It tells the Eubanks’ story through their experiences, in their own words and the words of the people close to them.
At one point it features David explaining his view of his faith’s role in the work he has dedicated his life to and his self-awareness of how it looks to some people. “Some viewers, if the word Jesus is there -- which it needs to be there — they kind of wince,” he says. “They go, ‘Aw shoot, they ruined it. Nutcases.’ But somewhere down the road, when they’re in trouble, they’ll remember that. And when they’re drowning they’ll go, ‘Oh, I got no rope. I wonder if this’ll work.’”
David tells the filmmakers his biggest lesson through the years: The antidote to evil is love. He and the family come off as humble and unassuming despite experiencing things that few American families can relate to. They speak more about their experiences and what they’ve learned than about any concrete accomplishments. David says that it’s hard to evaluate his organization’s performance or impact because there isn’t anything to compare it to.
“We’re really not that good,” he says. “It’s just that we’re there.”
Micah Danney is a Poynter-Koch fellow and a reporter and associate editor for Religion Unplugged. He is an alumnus of the Craig Newmark Graduate School of Journalism at CUNY and has reported for news outlets in the NYC area, interned at The Times of Israel and covered religion in Israel for the GroundTruth Project.