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USAID Cuts Leave Yazidi Tents in Tatters

Lynsey Addario / Contributor / Getty

When Hadi Maao was five years old, his mud-brick home collapsed on him after Muslim extremists detonated car bombs in his northern Iraqi village. Seven years later, in 2014, ISIS jihadists forced his community in the district of Sinjar to flee to the mountains. Now 22, he is an asylum seeker in the Netherlands and sends a quarter of his meager earnings as a grocery shelf stocker to his family still sheltering in a United Nations camp for internally displaced Yazidis.

“Sinjar is not a place to live,” he said. “I’m afraid people are forgetting us.”

US Agency for International Development (USAID) cuts have made things worse, pausing the reconstruction of Yazidi villages and overwhelming medical centers. An evangelical organization is trying to fill the gap, while a new generation of Yazidis living aboard are seeking ways to help. In this three-part series, we will also cover the complications of Christian aid in Sinjar and explain the basics of the Yazidi religion that Maao and his people follow.

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Maao is the youngest of four brothers and three sisters. All of his siblings currently live in Sardashti Camp in the Nineveh Valley, 12 miles east of the Syrian border. The money Maao sends home contributes to building a concrete house for his aging mother and father. They currently reside with his cousin’s family in the UN’s standard canvas tent.

At the International Religious Freedom Summit in February, Vice President JD Vance praised the first Trump administration’s action to bring aid to Yazidis and Christians “facing genocidal terror from ISIS.” Yet President Donald Trump’s executive order to freeze foreign funding and the subsequent dismantling of USAID has had a disastrous effect on the camps where Yazidis still live.

The camp is full of tattered tents that allow rain leakage, unhygienic bathroom facilities, and the threat of fire from spark-prone electricity cables, according to on-the-ground sources that CT spoke with. Cuts have halted the building of schools, community centers, and water purification units. An unused transformer, delivered prior to the stop-work order, was placed in storage.

Maao is from the village of Tel Ezer, also known as…

This article was originally published at Christianity Today on July 1, 2025. Please click here to read the full text.

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One Muslim Sect Confesses a Trinity. It Includes Simon Peter.

Muhammad Haj Kadour / Contributor / Getty

As an Alawite, Ziad identifies with the main markers of Islam.

“Our book is the Quran, our prophet is Muhammad, and our direction of prayer is the Kaaba in Mecca,” he said.

Ziad, a pseudonym granted because of the still-unstable situation in Syria, believes in God and called out to him during the Sunni militant attack on Alawite cities and villages in the coastal northwest. However, he does not perform the prescribed ritual prayers, fast for Ramadan, or consider a pilgrimage to Mecca necessary. And he drinks alcohol, which is forbidden for other Muslims.

Yet mainstream rejection of his sect goes far beyond these offenses. To understand why most Muslims consider Alawite beliefs heretical, we must first know a little about the religion’s main sects—Sunni and Shiite.

When Muhammad died in AD 632, disputes arose within the community over who would assume leadership. Sunnis, who today represent 85 percent of Muslims, hold that the prophet left this choice open for believers to decide. They chose Abu Bakr, an early convert and respected tribal leader, as the first caliph.

Shiites, on the other hand, hold that Muhammad designated his cousin Ali as his successor and that the tribal confederation bypassed his will. Ali was eventually chosen as the fourth caliph but assassinated within an Islamic civil war. The caliphate thereafter passed into hereditary rule. This political history matters practically little to Alawites, but they share with Shiites the belief that Ali was the first imam.

Most Shiites count a succession of 12 imams from the bloodline of Ali, whom they say God endowed with supernatural insight to interpret the Quran and Muslim religious traditions. The 12th imam is believed to have concealed himself—entering a period of what is called “occultation”—and will reappear at the end of the age.

However, Alawites follow…

This article first published at Christianity Today on June 25, 2025. Please click here to read the full text.

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Muslim Militants Went on a Syrian Rampage

Omar Haj Kadour / Contributor / Getty

On March 6, Ziad nervously scoured social media, hiding in a windowless room in his apartment. He had heard gunfire, and over the long course of the civil war in Syria, he had learned how to distinguish the various weaponry. These were military-grade machine guns. Bands of balaclava-clad militants in pickup trucks shouted “Allahu Akbar” as they attacked a government office just a mile from his home in the coastal city of Lattakia.

The 46-year-old educator and his wife, Zeinab, knew the militants were looking for Alawites. The couple belonged to the heterodox Islamic sect that many Sunni Muslims in Syria hated for their connection to the deposed Assad regime. Others went further and condemned their beliefs as heretical. Medieval and Ottoman-era fatwas declared Alawites deserving of death, and videos circulated of mosques calling for jihad against their community.

Ziad did not leave his home for the next three days.

When the dust settled, the March massacre claimed the lives of at least 1,700 Alawites. Ziad, currently in Lebanon and granted anonymity to preserve the safety of his relatives in Syria, describes the terror the community experienced.

“O God, save us,” he prayed quietly. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

Six months earlier, when Bashar al-Assad’s regime fell, Ziad hoped for a transition to democracy and wide-scale reform. Assad’s father, Hafez, seized power in a 1970 coup and disproportionately selected Alawites for key military and government posts. But few from the community truly benefited, Ziad said, while most lived in relative poverty—as in other rural regions. The regime permitted no dissent and cultivated insecurity among its minority religious populations to curb any threat to its power.

While Alawites make up a majority in the coastal plains and mountains of western Syria, the ethnoreligious group represents 10–13 percent of the overall population. Sunni Muslims and Greek Orthodox Christians live among them in peace. But as militants barged into homes, looting cell phones and cash, they killed adult Alawite males and sometimes whole families.

Ziad had barred the iron gate to their building. Perhaps this spared their lives. He and Zeinab sat in the darkness to avoid showing signs of life in their apartment. And as he scrolled Facebook for updates, he learned…

This article was first published at Christianity Today on June 24, 2025. Please click here to read the full text.

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Fleeing a Massacre, Syrian Muslims Found Comfort Through Church

Ozan Kose / Contributor / Getty

A small congregation in the Tartous countryside of western Syria held an unusual Mother’s Day service this March.

The passages were customary, as the pastor read from Proverbs 31 and 1 Corinthians 13. So were the praise songs, including an Arabic version of “How Great Thou Art.”

The crafts, snacks, and cake were like those served at any youth-focused event. Fifty moms and their kids enjoyed the cool weather at a lakeside pavilion under pleasant gray skies. Enthusiastic girls acted out the parable of the prodigal son, emphasizing that God’s love is for everyone. This, too, was a typical message.

The unusual aspect was who was in the audience. Half the families were Syrian Alawites, a heterodox Muslim sect, three weeks removed from a massacre that killed more than 1,700 men, women, and children from their community.

In Syria, Mother’s Day is celebrated on March 21, and the event offered a small measure of joy amid great tragedy. The service was so successful the church repeated it twice more in the following weeks, according to Bassem Khoury, the church’s pastor. Christianity Today agreed not to use his real name as the country remains unstable.

“Suffering is an opportunity to direct people to God’s love,” Khoury said.

Khoury described how his evangelical church ministered to hundreds of Alawites fleeing the coastal villages of Jableh and Baniyas and as far away as Hama and Homs, cities 50 miles to the east. Local Christians offered food, medicine, and words of comfort. Khoury preached about Jesus—but also about reconciliation between Syria’s diverse religious groups, Sunni Muslims, Alawites, and Greek Orthodox Christians. And the families witnessed a unity the pastor prays his nation may one day reflect.

Khoury served from extensive experience. Throughout the 14-year Syrian civil war…

This article was first published on June 23, 2025. Please click here to read the full text.

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How Coptic Martyrs—and Migrants—Inform our Christian Faith

Prayers in Deir El-Garnouse Coptic church in Egypt for victims of a terrorist attack: NurPhoto / Contributor / Getty

The Coptic Orthodox church marks time by its martyrs. Its ecclesial calendar begins in AD 284, year 1 Anno Martyrii (Year of the Martyrs), when Emperor Diocletian ascended to the throne and put 800,000 Egyptian Christians to death, according to tradition. The most famous martyr of this era, military leader Saint Maurice, famously defied commands to kill fellow Christians, only for the emperor to murder his legion of over 6,000 soldiers. 

Persecution waned after Constantine declared Christianity the Roman Empire’s official religion. But during the Byzantine era, some emperors imposed the largely European understanding of Christology upon what eventually became an Oriental Orthodox church. Subsequent Islamic rule restored the Coptic patriarch and provided some religious toleration. But it also legally established Christians as second-class citizens, known as dhimmis. The number of martyrs declined, but the Middle Age Mamluk era was particularly violent.

Coptic fortunes fluctuated during the Ottoman and colonial eras, giving way to a modern state that has struggled to define the balance between equal citizenship and a Muslim majority. Among other incidents, in 2000 in the village of Kosheh, rioters killed 20 Copts following a disagreement between a Muslim and a Christian shopkeeper. After the New Year’s Eve service in 2010 in the Mediterranean city of Alexandria, a car bomb outside a church killed 21. And in 2015 in Libya, ISIS beheaded 20 Copts and one Ghanaian Christian.

Fearing the Muslim Brotherhood’s rise following the 2011 Arab Spring, 100,000 Copts fled Egypt to the US, quadrupling the size of the local diaspora. Large communities exist also in Canada, France, and Australia. Egypt ranks No. 40 on Open Doors’ World Watch List of countries where it is hardest to be a Christian. Similar reports and subsequent immigration have contributed to a common assumption that Copts experience constant persecution.

The story is far more nuanced than the flight from religious intolerance, however, says anthropologist Candace Lukasik. Her book, Martyrs and Migrants, represents 24 months of fieldwork among Upper Egyptian Copts, transnational Orthodox clergy, and recent immigrants to the United States. Not only do most Copts emigrate for reasons other than persecution, she told CT; upon arrival they often trade one set of difficulties for another.

Born a Polish Catholic in Buffalo, New York, Lukasik, assistant professor of religion at Mississippi State University, reencountered God in the Coptic Orthodox church and was baptized into its faith in 2012. Through her encounters with the church in Egypt, she believes the Coptic tradition offers tools for all believers to understand and confront the suffering and hardship of everyday life. This interview has been edited and condensed.

Why does the Coptic Orthodox Church emphasize martyrdom?

For Coptic Christians, the blood of martyrs symbolizes both Christ’s triumph over death and an eternal spiritual belonging in the body of Christ. The Coptic calendar notably doesn’t begin with Christ’s birth or the start of Christian Egypt. Instead, it starts with the Era of the Martyrs, commemorating the widespread persecution of Christians under the Roman emperor Diocletian.

During the early Islamic expansion in Egypt, stories of martyrs and persecution became crucial for the Coptic church to maintain its institutional strength as the community’s social structure evolved. And new martyrs are incorporated into the Coptic Orthodox Church’s Synaxarium, or Life of the Saints, and linked to the sacrifice of Christ on the cross. These stories of saints serve as powerful reminders of Coptic identity and reinforce their resilience and distinctiveness, whether under Arab and Islamic rule or other governments.

Coptic Christianity is a perpetually minority tradition, and Copts practice their faith through this orientation. Yet martyrdom not only is more than a symbol to give meaning to suffering and death; it represents a way of life that entails everyday sacrifice and deep connection to God.

What does this sacrifice mean for ordinary Copts?

It takes on different forms depending on social status. A middle-class Copt in Cairo experiences everyday martyrdom quite differently than an agricultural worker in rural Upper Egypt. For the former, Copts may be discriminated against at university, such as in biased grading, or face difficulties at work, such as exclusion from positions of leadership.

For the latter, arguments with a Muslim neighbor…

This article was originally published at Christianity Today, on May 29, 2025. Please click here to read the full text.

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How 7 Global Evangelical Leaders View Trump’s First 100 Days

Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: Getty

Back in November, Christianity Today spoke with 26 evangelical leaders around the world to gauge their reactions to the US electing Donald Trump for a second presidential term. At the time, the responses ranged from jubilant to indifferent to despairing.

During Trump’s first 100 days in office, he has made monumental changes impacting not only American citizens but also people around the world, including cutting international aid, levying tariffs, ending refugee resettlement, and deporting undocumented immigrants.

To see how Trump’s policies have affected Christians globally and whether his first 100 days have changed Christians’ minds about him, CT reached out to seven Christian leaders from around the world—including Mexico, Nigeria, Russia, and Nepal—who initially expressed excitement about Trump. CT has edited responses for clarity and length.

Mexico

Rubén Enriquez Navarrete, secretary, Confraternidad Evangélica de Mexico

In Mexico, Christians have mixed feelings about Trump’s presidency. For the more conservative and the upper middle class, the sentiment has been positive because they believe he is sticking to biblical principles. For the middle and lower classes, it has been negative due to his actions against migrants. This has led to doubts…

This article was originally published at Christianity Today on April 30, 2025. I contributed the entries for Nigeria and Russia. Please click here to read the full text.

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The Young Lawyer Who United Lebanon’s Christians in Worship

Credit: Maronite Catholic archdiocese of Antelias

Lebanon has 12 officially registered Christian sects. Jesus prayed the church would be one. Once Mark Merhej did the math, the solution was worship. And in January 2024, the 29-year-old Maronite Catholic layman brought together representative patriarchs, bishops, and pastors from nearly every ecclesial family to pray collectively for the peace of Beirut.

Merhej began planning the event three years before the Israel-Hezbollah war, contemplating how to bring unity to the fractured Lebanese body of Christ. As the two belligerents exchanged missiles over the nation’s southern border, over 10,000 Lebanese Christians joined in worship with Merhej’s 300-person ecumenical choir and orchestra to pour out their hearts in pursuit of God’s presence. 

“Worship is the communal experience of God’s lordship and grace,” Merhej said. “The world outside—the war—is irrelevant.”

Merhej aimed to bring a higher vision to the troubled Christian community. That January, during the official week of prayer for Christian unity—usually a perfunctory affair—he filled the Beirut Forum with soaring hymnodies of Byzantine chants and intoned hallelujahs. Members of the choir, inspired by their interdenominational harmony, wanted to keep performing. And the bishops, he sensed, resonated with his ecclesial vision.

But after the event, Merhej stepped back.  

As Beirut wrestled with the war, Merhej wrestled with God. He came to believe God wanted him to withdraw not only from a vibrant music ministry but also from his budding relationships with senior clergy members. At first, he didn’t understand this directive, and for months he let others take the initiative. But as he grew in his personal faith, planning a scaled-back but similar event one year later helped him discern God’s purpose for his rest.

The heavenly realms

Growing up, Merhej was mostly unaware that local Christians divided themselves between six Catholic, five Orthodox, and one Protestant council that includes several denominations. Theological schisms had split the Levant church over the centuries, which further splintered as Vatican, British, and American missionaries competed for new church members from historic Christian traditions.

In 1974, the newly formed Middle East Council of Churches (MECC) brought together Eastern Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox, and Protestant clergy to strengthen relations among minority Christians. (Catholics joined in 1990.) Today, though the MECC community has organized numerous service projects and theological dialogues, spiritual unity has not extended to religious practice. Some churches will not take Communion together, nor participate in joint liturgical services.

Merhej grew up in the mountains of Lebanon in a Maronite Catholic community. Surrounded by Muslim…

This article was originally published at Christianity Today on February 17, 2025. Please click here to read the full text.

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A Lebanese School Brought Christmas Cheer. Then Came the War.

Edits by CT / Source Images: Getty / NESN

The predominantly Shiite city of Nabatieh in southern Lebanon once boasted the nation’s largest Christmas tree, erected to symbolize good relations between local Muslims and the tiny Christian minority of only 20 families.

The local evangelical school—with a 99 percent Shiite student body—had celebrated the holiday for years, and in 2018 it built a 100-foot wrought-iron conic structure topped with a radiant star. (The use of natural firs or pines is uncommon in Lebanon). Several of the hundreds of students, parents, neighbors, and dignitaries in attendance wore Santa hats. Many had trees in their homes and gifts to open on Christmas day.

Earlier that December, Ahmed Kahil, the Hezbollah-affiliated president of the municipality, continued the annual tradition of erecting a smaller tree in the souk, the traditional marketplace and heart of the city. And at both events—alongside Shadi El-Hajjar, the principal of the National Evangelical School of Nabatieh (NESN), heads of other private schools in the city, and various government and religious officials—Kahil wished Christians a Merry Christmas.

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Lebanon’s economic crisis made 2018 the last year NESN could afford to erect its massive Yuletide construction. But over the following years, elementary school classrooms still featured Christmas trees, students exchanged secret Santa gifts, and teachers enjoyed the annual holiday dinner. “If Christmas isn’t found in your hearts,” the school reminded, “you won’t find it under a tree.”

But there was no Christmas celebration in Nabatieh last month, after over a year of war between Israel and Hezbollah. On October 8, 2023, the Shiite militia launched rockets into Israel in support of Hamas following its attack that killed 1,200 Israelis and took around 250 hostages. The subsequent daily missile exchange drove tens of thousands from the border regions of both nations.

A year later, most of Nabatieh’s 80,000 residents fled their homes as Israel intensified its military campaign against Hezbollah. On October 16, an Israeli missile killed Kahil and 10 others at the Nabatieh town hall as they coordinated the daily distribution of food and medicine to the 200 families who remained in the largely evacuated city.

Initially, NESN stayed open for its 1,400 students. Located 35 miles south of Beirut and only 7 miles from Israel, the historic evangelical institution won local respect over the years by offering a nonreligious but values-based educational environment that consistently ranked among the top high schools in Lebanon. The September 2024 pager attack delayed the start of the academic year, and the exodus from the city eventually shifted education online. But within a week NESN opened its doors as a shelter for the locally displaced.

Over the course of the war, its staff stood by the Shiite community, including one who rescued Kahil’s colleague after the October 16 strike.

“When you see your hometown destroyed and the damage at the school,” Hajjar said, “you have to ask: Why is this happening to those who are not involved?”

A safe haven

In the early stages of the war, Nabatieh mostly…

This article was originally published at Christianity Today on January 31, 2025. Please click here to read the full text.

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Syrian Christians Are Anxious About New Regime

Louai Beshara / Getty

For years, “Maria” (we’re using a pseudonym, given the political situation) thought little about her apparel or how to greet her colleagues. A Christian and longtime Syrian government employee, she kept her head uncovered and wore Western business-casual attire. She greeted her coworkers with “sabah al-khayr,” which means “good morning” in Arabic.  

But an alliance of rebel forces, some connected to jihadist groups, has now seized government power. The new leaders in Damascus repeatedly say Christians, some of whom had allied with the Assad regime, face neither persecution nor displacement. Yet small aspects of Maria’s work life have already begun to change.

Recently, a new boss for her department informed the office that coworkers would now greet each other with “salamu alaykum,” Arabic for “peace be upon you.” That’s the standard greeting between religious Muslims. Maria wonders if changes might be gradual, that next week, or next month, or next year, she will be required to wear a hijab.

Maybe the new greeting requirement is a good sign…

This article was originally published at Christianity Today, on January 9, 2025. Please click here to read the full text.

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A Christian and a Shiite Confront Loss in Lebanon

Anadolu / Getty

In early October, in a Christian village in southern Lebanon, “Samira” (we’re using pseudonyms due to the political situation) decided to water her lemon trees. The autumn winds were dry this season. Rain was less frequent. The frail, hunched-over grandmother filled her bucket and went outside.

Samira’s husband had died two years earlier. Her children had long ago moved away, seeking better opportunities in Beirut, but her daughter owned the house next door and made frequent trips back, recently refurnishing the interior with modern decor. Samira loved the home’s colorful bedspreads in the rooms where her great-grandchildren often stayed.

But such visits were infrequent these days. A year earlier, Hezbollah had entered the Israel-Hamas war in Gaza by shooting missiles into Israel. Israel had pushed back, and the exchange of fire between the Shiite militia and Israel drove thousands from their homes on both sides of the border. And in late September, Israel increased its bombing campaign against suspected Hezbollah sites throughout the country. Nevertheless, Samira had remained, adamant that her Christian village was not a target.

Samira had just begun watering her lemon trees when everything went black…

This article was originally published at Christianity Today, on January 8, 2025. Please click here to read the full text.

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My Top Stories From 2024

Every year, Christianity Today recaps the previous 12 months through selected articles in a number of categories. Most often they are not necessary a collection of ‘most read.’ Rather, editors try to find the stories that were most reflective of the past year, most impactful in terms of reporting, or most representative of diverse sections of the world.

Here are the relevant sections for my reporting:

Ranked #10, the description of the Israel-Hamas War includes several of my articles:

The war in Gaza stretched into a second year, and evangelicals in the region struggled to be peacemakers amid the devastation. Many Israelis and Palestinians didn’t want to hear messages of peace, and those who preached peace couldn’t agree on what peace should mean in Israel. But Bible scholars worked to model good conversations. And Christians worked to find ways to love their neighbors—displaced Palestinians, displaced Israelis, and people on the border of Israel and Lebanon.

Four of my articles were included in this global church overview. Eliminating overlap with the above, it featured how evangelicals are leading special-needs education in Jordan, alongside how porridge unites Muslims and Christians in Senegal.

Europe is not my primary continent. But two articles here highlighted how satellite imagery reveals destruction of Armenian Christian heritage in the Caucasus, while Orthodox believers are divided in their critique about how Russia and Ukraine restrict their churches.

Finally, my greater Middle East beat was included with Africa this year. Click on the image to recall several of my contributions, including Bible translation in Iran, starvation in Sudan, and how the region’s favorite Arabic Christmas carol is paradoxically about war and hate.

Thank you for reading. May our world feature fewer tragedies in 2025.

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A Shiite and a Catholic Find Refuge—and Friendship—at Baptist Seminary Shelter

Bilal Hussein / AP Images

While an explosion reverberated across the valley from Beirut to the foothill village of Mansourieh, two men puffed on their cigarettes in resignation. Israeli jets were striking another apartment building in the Dahiyeh region of Beirut, Lebanon’s capital city, likely killing a Hezbollah militant or targeting an underground weapons depot within the tightly packed urban area.

Neither man cared about politics or the war, brought to their doorstep by last year’s decision of the Shiite Muslim militia to launch rockets into Israel to support Hamas. Tit-for-tat attacks had crossed the southern border for the 11 months that followed, as neither side wanted to engage in a larger conflict. That fighting displaced tens of thousands on both sides while leaving the rest of Lebanon largely unscathed—yet ever worried about an escalation.

It came in September. On the 17th, Israel declared the return of northern citizens to their homes to be an official war goal. Hours later, an Israeli sabotage operation exploded Hezbollah pagers, killing 13 and wounding around 4,000 militia-linked individuals. Then, on September 23, Israeli missiles struck throughout Lebanon, and hundreds of thousands fled their homes. Lubnan Assaf, a 42-year-old Shiite Muslim, and Awad Saab, a 72-year-old Greek Catholic, somehow found their way to the Arab Baptist Theological Seminary (ABTS) guesthouse—and became friends. At its peak, the evangelical institution housed almost 250 displaced individuals, about one-third of whom were fellow Christians.

ABTS offered daily chapels and provided three meals a day—but no televisions. Isolated from the news and away from static entertainment, couples walked in the seminary gardens while children rode scooters down the access road from the library. Assaf and Saab played a Rummy-like card game until 10 p.m., exchanging details about their abandoned neighborhoods.

Assaf gave Saab the daily update that his auto-accessory shop on the edge of Dahiyeh had not been looted. Saab replied that his eight-month pregnant daughter, one of 15 people who remained in their southern village on the frontline of the Israeli ground invasion, was still doing all right. Both whittled away the hours in relative boredom, as each over time expanded his spiritual horizons.

Assaf’s Story

Assaf’s apartment in the working-class Shiite neighborhood of Ouzai, located in Dahiyeh near the Beirut airport, overlooks a local café and the Mediterranean Sea. His shop serviced mostly middle-class Christians who frequented the area, well-known for its inexpensive furniture and manufactured goods.

Over the years, Assaf saved up enough money to build a home in his family village of Younine, 11 miles northeast of Baalbek, an ancient Roman city preserved in the Bekaa Valley, Lebanon’s agricultural heartland. Driving from Beirut means passing by marijuana fields that fuel an unofficial economy run by local Shiite tribes that reportedly collaborate loosely with Hezbollah.

Artful calligraphy from the Quran adorns the walls of Assaf’s home. His wife, Mira, and their 15-year-old daughter wear the hijab. When war came to Dahiyeh, they relocated for safety, while Assaf returned to Beirut to oversee his shop. The next day, an Israeli missile…

This article was originally published at Christianity Today on December 20, 2024. Please click here to read the full text.

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Why Armenian Christians Recall Noah’s Ark in December

Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Wikimedia Commons

If you want a break from Santa this December, try Hagop instead, an Armenian tradition that dates back as far as Old Saint Nick.

Santa Claus, the modern icon of Christmas, is derived from traditions associated with Saint Nicholas, a fourth-century bishop of Greek descent who was known for giving gifts. He is also mentioned among the church fathers at the Council of Nicaea in AD 325, for which the Nicene Creed is named.

If Nicholas was indeed at the council, he may have met Saint Hagop, who was also reputedly there. English speakers refer to him as Jacob of Nisibis, though in the Armenian language both Jacob the biblical patriarch and the Nicene saint are called Hagop. He is believed to have been a relative of Saint Gregory the Illuminator, who converted the Armenian king to Christ in circa AD 301. As a result, Armenia became the world’s first Christian nation.

Whereas Nicholas eventually became a secular stand-in for Jesus, Hagop is intimately associated with Noah. The Armenian Apostolic Church commemorates Saint Hagop in the second week of December—not because of any connection to Christmas (which its churches celebrate on January 6), but for his reputed role in demonstrating the historicity of Noah’s ark.

Many children delighted by tales of the animals that boarded the ark later turn skeptical, questioning the reliability of this miraculous story. But doubt about the Flood is nothing new. Back in the fourth century, Hagop heard reports that the local population did not believe the biblical account of Noah. A wandering ascetic, he undertook his own search for evidence and journeyed to Mount Ararat.

According to tradition, an angel appeared to Hagop in his sleep as he rested near the mountain peak and left a wooden fragment of Noah’s vessel by his side. Today, it is preserved within a reliquary dating to 1698, lying below an ornate gold cross and housed in Armenia’s St. Etchmiadzin Cathedral.

For many Western audiences, the story of Noah recalls little more than flannelgraph cutouts from Sunday school. But for Armenians, he is a national ancestor and figure of transcendent meaning. In fact, one of Armenia’s top soccer clubs is named FC Noah, and recently played a match against the English powerhouse Chelsea FC.

CT spoke with four Armenians to understand more fully Noah’s importance to their people, whether living beneath the shadows of Mount Ararat in the Caucasus Mountains or in the extensive Armenian diaspora. Each one shared memories of childhood, perspectives on tradition, and lessons from Noah for Christian faith today.

Hrayr Jebejian

Armenian general secretary of the Bible Society of the Gulf, headquartered in Cyprus and resident in Kuwait

The story of Noah and the ark fascinated me when I was a child growing up in the Armenian Evangelical Church. The fact that the ark landed on Mount Ararat gave us a special sense of pride as Armenians, that our land is mentioned in the Bible. We are an ancient people. As we grew older, for some the sense of wonder turned into skepticism: How did the animals march two by two, and was the Flood truly worldwide?

But as Armenians…

This article was originally published at Christianity Today on December 13, 2024. Please click here to read the full text.

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What Another Trump Presidency Means To Evangelicals Around the World

Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Getty

As Americans headed to the polls Tuesday, the rest of the world watched to see who would become the 47th president of the United States. The election of Donald Trump affects many evangelical communities around the world in terms of foreign policy, foreign aid, religious freedom, and cultural trends. Nevertheless, Christian leaders in some countries noted that it didn’t make a difference to them who becomes the next president of the US.

CT asked 20 evangelical leaders around the world about their reaction to another Trump presidency and its practical impact on the situation of evangelicals in their countries. The responses are broken up by region: Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America, North America, and the Middle East. CT will add more responses as they come in.


AFRICA

Nigeria

James Akinyele, secretary general, Nigeria Evangelical Fellowship

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In light of Nigeria’s ongoing economic and political difficulties, this US election was not debated locally nearly as much as the prior two. For evangelicals, neither candidate was an easy option. Harris was considered more level-headed, but her strong support of abortion and LGBTQ rights made many uncomfortable. Trump’s moral stances resonated with our core evangelical convictions, but his own lack of morality and perceived white supremacy created some concerns. We hope he will become more open to immigration.

Some Nigerian Christian leaders said Trump’s victory is an answer to our prayers for a US president who will defend the Christian faith in Nigeria and around the world. Others said it should be accepted as God’s will, without positive or negative judgment. But just about everyone hopes he will become less controversial in his rhetoric and personal conduct. And many are sympathetic to his promise to maintain America’s role as the global policeman without being subservient to the rest of the world.

South Africa

Moss Ntlha, general secretary, Evangelical Alliance of South Africa

Trump’s win is a sad day for evangelicalism around the world. Prominent evangelicals in the US came out in full support of Trump, making it appear that to be Bible believing is to be Trump supporting. Their endorsement gives the impression that theological conservatism requires and leads to a right-wing political view that is dictatorial, opposes climate justice, sanctions genocide in the Holy Land, and approves what took place on January 6.

Many in South Africa who know the horrors of apartheid recognize how easily a populist politics that holds to a narrow vision of public morality can harm those on the margins. Trump already declared in his first term that African countries are “s—hole countries.” Lately, he has made it clear that when restored to the presidency, he would make sure that Israel has all it needs to “finish the job,” which many understand as the erasure of Palestinian existence.

We worry that having Trump in the White House will make it difficult to proclaim the gospel that “God so loved the world” that he sent Jesus to die for all, especially our Muslim neighbors. We worry that he will use the immense power of the US government to punish those who pursue foreign policies contrary to his own, such as South Africa for appealing to the International Court of Justice to adjudicate whether what we are witnessing in the Israel–Palestine conflict is genocide.

ASIA

China

A house church pastor in China

Donald Trump’s presidency could impact…

This article was first published at Christianity Today on November 7, 2024. Please click here to read the full text.

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Meet the Evangelical Expats Staying in Lebanon

Illustration by Christianity Today / Source Images: Getty / Courtesy of Brent Hamoud, Emad Botros, and Daniel Suter

The warning issued by the American embassy on October 14 could not have been clearer: US citizens in Lebanon are strongly encouraged to depart now. But this message, coming as Israel increased its attacks on Hezbollah, was only the latest in several weeks of diplomatic efforts to reduce the American presence.

Back on July 31, already fearing an escalation of violence, the embassy was discouraging would-be tourists with its highest of four alert levels: Do Not Travel. For those inside Lebanon, it urged: The best time to leave a country is before a crisis, if at all possible. Major airlines had already canceled flights to and from Beirut, leaving only the national carrier to facilitate evacuation—and its outbound flights were booked weeks in advance.

Ever since Hezbollah—a Shiite Muslim militia designated by the US as a terrorist entity—launched missiles across the border in support of Hamas’s attack last October, foreigners have lived under a cloud of uncertainty that Israel might eventually bomb the airport, as it did in the month-long war in 2006 that left many expats stranded. Americans would have little hope of leaving through Syria, and Lebanon has no official relationship with Israel to permit crossing the southern border.

And then Hezbollah pagers exploded throughout the country.

With dozens dead and thousands injured, the next day, September 18, the embassy warned of a reduction in routine care at hospitals. On September 21, it told citizens the Lebanese government could not ensure their safety, mentioning the possibility of increased crime, sectarian violence, or targeted kidnapping.

And on September 28, one day after a massive Israeli airstrike killed Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah, the embassy sent its nonessential personnel home and opened registration for US citizens to request assistance in leaving.

Several US citizens paid thousands of dollars to place their families on private yachts to nearby Cyprus. Others frantically called Middle East Airlines (MEA) to secure embassy-reserved seats to anywhere else. And among the missionary community, the chatter was incessant: Are you leaving? What are your contingency plans? Will your organization make you go?

Some decided to stay.

CT interviewed four Christian foreigners to learn how they made the decision to remain in times of war.

Each had already endured the constant hum of Israeli drones hovering over their neighborhoods. They learned to distinguish between the noise of warplanes deliberately breaking the sound barrier and the similarly ear-popping sound of a missile strike bringing down a Beirut apartment complex. And some have wondered if they might become a target of random Shiite anger or if the Islamist kidnappings of foreigners during Lebanon’s civil war decades earlier could be repeated.

The sources represent different categories of Christian workers.

A Swiss family living in the foothills outside Beirut believes that angels closed their ears of their children at night, allowing for consistent sleep even when explosions—slightly muffled by the distance—woke the parents consistently at 3 a.m. An Egyptian with Canadian citizenship said the blasts were so loud he sometimes thought they had happened just across the street—only to look out the window and see smoke plumes rising across the valley two miles away, not far from his church outside Beirut.

An American married to a Lebanese woman said that while the bombings did not threaten him directly, he was deeply troubled as each missile resulted in more deaths and displaced families. And a single American woman raised in urban poverty amid gang warfare stated casually, “I grew up rough, but gunshots and bombs are not the same thing.”

A Shared Resilience

This woman, a Black millennial from Ohio, has…

This article was originally published at Christianity Today on November 1, 2024. Please click here to read the full text.

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Satellite Imagery Documents Erasure of Armenian Christian Heritage

NurPhoto / Getty / Edits by CT

Discovered ruins of a fourth-century church in Armenia are “sensational evidence” of the nation’s early Christian history, stated Achim Lichtenberger, the lead German archaeologist of a binational excavation effort with the local National Academy of Sciences. Carbon dating of wooden platforms may establish an octagonal structure as the oldest documented church in Armenia.

Tradition indicates that Armenia became the world’s first Christian nation in AD 301. The church design reflects features resembling similar building styles in ancient eastern Mediterranean civilizations, previously unknown in the Caucasus region. The ruins were found in Artaxata, once the capital of the Kingdom of Armenia, which means “the joy of truth” in the original Indo-Iranian language.

But Christina Maranci, an Armenian professor of art and architecture at Harvard University, said the joy of these discoveries is outweighed by alarm at the destruction of Armenian heritage sites in the neighboring country of Azerbaijan. The Muslim-majority nation initiated fighting that displaced its Armenian residents from a disputed region and is now accused of systematically removing the remaining evidence of their ethnic historical presence.

“This is their long-term plan,” she said. “The intent is to erase evidence of our existence, which they do not admit anyway.”

In a 44-day war with Armenia in 2020, Muslim-majority Azerbaijan reclaimed most of its internationally recognized territory in Nagorno-Karabakh, a mountainous enclave then populated by ethnic Armenians who had proclaimed themselves a breakaway republic they called Artsakh.

And last month marked the one-year anniversary of a lightning Azerbaijani offensive to capture the remaining pockets of land, which resulted in their near depopulation as 100,000 refugees fled to Armenia. Furthermore, beyond the geopolitical dispute and humanitarian crisis, critics see new evidence that Azerbaijan continues to demolish signs of the region’s historical Armenian presence.

Maranci is one of several academics employing scientific and technological advances to demonstrate claims of antiquity. Her expertise includes the study of spolia, remnants of ancient structures repurposed in modern construction.

As an example, Manci cited two monasteries from the 14th and 15th century that were destroyed—twice. In the 1950s, Soviet authorities leveled the structures and haphazardly incorporated the medieval stones into the building materials for two public schools. Children could daydream, Maranci said, while looking at randomly placed images of crosses, saints, and angels.

Until Azerbaijan…

This article was originally published at Christianity Today on October 28, 2024. Please click here to read the full text.

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Lebanon Evangelicals Serve Shiites Displaced by Hezbollah-Israel War

Marwan Naamani / AP Images

On September 23, Mustafa put his family of five on a small motorbike and drove seven hours north from Tyre to a village in the Lebanese mountains, weaving slowly through lines of gridlocked vehicles. Some in those cars—like his brother Hussein’s family of six—would not arrive for another two days.

The path normally takes two hours.

Mustafa, and thousands like him, were frantically fleeing Israeli bombs aimed at Hezbollah, the Shiite militia designated by the US government as a terrorist organization. Until that moment, he and his brother had been agricultural workers in a farm outside the city, living in a spartan two-bedroom apartment provided by his employers.

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CT agreed to withhold his family name for security reasons. Mustafa is a Christian originally from Afrin, a Kurdish area in northwest Syria. Asked if he shared his brother’s faith, Hussein said, “Not yet.”

Their home nation does not recognize converts from Islam. And while Lebanon is the only Arab nation to grant freedom of conversion, Tyre is a socially conservative Shiite city under the political sway of Hezbollah.

This was Mustafa’s second displacement. In 2013, he and his brother fled the Syrian civil war. But over the past five years, as poverty rates tripled in Lebanon, the nominal Sunni Muslims found support from a local Christian ministry offering aid.

Eighteen months ago, Mustafa professed faith in Christ.

“I follow Jesus,” he said. “He saved me.”

When Israel began its ground invasion of Lebanon, it issued evacuation orders to both Muslim and Christian villages in the south. But the large majority of the displaced come from Shiite areas suspected of housing weapons depots and underground tunnels—where resident Shiites may or may not align with Hezbollah’s Islamist ideology.

According to a survey conducted in early 2024, while 78 percent of Shiites viewed positively the militia’s role in regional affairs, only 39 percent said they felt closest to Hezbollah among Lebanon’s political parties, compared to 37 percent of Shiites who felt closest to none.

Only 6 percent of Christians had “a lot of trust” in the Shiite militia.

Within these realities, Christians are eager—and cautious—to help. Gospel commitments and national solidarity require hospitality. Sectarian guardedness encourages suspicion. And Israel’s bombing campaign creates fear that welcoming the displaced might make them a target. 

Many are helping anyway.

Mustafa and Hussein found shelter in living quarters offered by an evangelical church in the mixed Muslim-Christian village where they sought refuge. A plastic rug covered half of the cement floor in their private allotment, with thin mattresses pressed up against the walls. Blankets and pillows strewn about were evidence of their children’s fitful night of sleep.

“This is our message: to show love in action as we lead people to Christ,” the church’s pastor said. (CT is granting him anonymity due to the uncertain political situation in Lebanon.) “As they receive, we teach them to give.”

His congregation currently hosts about 100 people, displaced from their homes in the south and in Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley. More than half are from neighboring Syria; the rest are primarily Lebanese Shiites. The pastor said 60 percent of the total are believers in Jesus. Others, like Hussein, are their relatives or Muslims already closely connected to churches in their original area.

They all pitched in to prepare 500 tuna sandwiches for local distribution.

Not Just Talk

Hezbollah’s current conflict with Israel began last year on October 8, one day after Hamas invaded from Gaza and killed approximately 1,200 Israelis, taking 250 hostages. The Lebanese militia initiated what it called a “support front” for Hamas, launching missiles that caused 80,000 Israelis to flee from villages near the border.

A similar number of Lebanese also fled from Israel’s retaliation, and for 11 months the two sides had kept their missile exchange relatively contained, aiming to avoid a larger and perhaps regional conflict with Iran, which backs both Hamas and Hezbollah as proxy forces.

That status quo held despite…

This article was originally published at Christianity Today on October 17, 2024. Please click here to read the full text.

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Can a Lebanese Seminary Move Beyond the Liberal-Conservative Impasse?

Courtesy of Near East School of Theology

The oldest Protestant seminary in the Middle East has a new vision.

Officially founded in 1932 but with origins dating back to the 19th-century missionary movement, the Near East School of Theology (NEST) is operated by the Presbyterian, Anglican, Lutheran, and Armenian Evangelical denominations.

Installed this week, its 11th president is a nondenominational Lebanese evangelical.

Martin Accad, formerly academic dean at Arab Baptist Theological Seminary (ABTS), was installed on Sunday at the historic institution’s Beirut campus. He graduated from NEST in 1996 with a bachelor of theology degree, eventually earning his PhD from the University of Oxford. Awarded scholarships by the World Council of Churches and the evangelical Langham Partnership, Accad is a locally controversial theologian who, like NEST, straddles the liberal-conservative dichotomy.

Author of Sacred Misinterpretation: Reaching Across the Christian-Muslim Divide, Accad has urged believers to approach Islam in a manner that avoids the twin pitfalls of syncretism and polemics. But before joining NEST he resigned his prior academic position at ABTS to apply his biblical convictions within Lebanon’s contested political scene. Creating a research center, his last four years have been spent in pursuit of reconciliation between Lebanon’s often-divided sectarian communities.

Accad will now bring his vision to a new generation of Middle East seminarians.

Although doing public theology is novel for the institution, NEST has long sought, with some struggle, to balance the two streams of its early predecessors’ commitments to evangelistic outreach and service-oriented witness. Its founding in 1932 resulted from a merger of two programs, each with its own distinctives.

One stream of NEST’s roots dates to 1856, when American missionaries began what Accad describes as a discipleship training program in the mountains of Lebanon. Along with providing pastoral development, it functioned as a mission station for sharing the gospel in local villages with non-Protestant Christians and diverse Muslim communities. Its remote location was also designed to isolate these early “seminarians” from the corruption of city life in Beirut.

American outreach to Armenians and Arabs in the Ottoman Empire (modern-day Turkey) led to the creation of similar schools beginning in 1839. After the Armenian genocide in World War I, these efforts relocated to Athens where they coalesced into a seminary that adopted an ecumenical, Enlightenment-informed model, emphasizing the importance of social service. This was especially true in its approach to Islam—sympathetic and comparative with an eye toward reconciliation.

The merger of these two programs created NEST, which eventually settled in the cosmopolitan Hamra neighborhood of Lebanon’s capital. Although it is situated near three historic Protestant liberal arts colleges—now known as the American University of Beirut (AUB), the Lebanese American University (LAU), and the Armenian-led Haigazian University—early cooperation was shattered by the Lebanese civil war in 1975 and has not been re-established.

Accad wants to restore this collaboration and embody an integration of scholarship and discipleship. CT spoke with him about Protestant distinctives, “electric shock” pedagogy, and how to understand the mainline-evangelical divide in the Middle East.

Why does serving as president of NEST appeal to you?

We need to rethink what it means to be a seminary student today. This question is a key issue globally, but especially in the Middle East. Ideally, the seminary leads the church to be relevant in society. This requires beginning with society and determining its needs. And then the seminary addresses the church—what does the pastor need? Finally, it works backward and designs a program to fit this profile.

Historically, NEST has been an ordination track. This is the traditional model, and it is still necessary if the church believes that it is. But I want to explore with the churches their vision for seminary training, for congregational service, and for regional witness—and how NEST can help prepare leaders to implement this vision.

How do you plan to prepare leaders to serve the church?

Nontraditional, focused tracks are becoming the way people want to learn. Accrediting bodies speak of micro-credentials that may contribute toward academic goals but have value in and of themselves and fit into the bigger puzzle of what students want to do with their lives.

But this system of training should not be only for evangelicals. I want NEST to attract…

This article was originally published at Christianity Today on September 27, 2024. Please click here to read the full text.

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Middle East Muslims are Finding Jesus. Can They Fit Within a Weakened Church?

Mohammed Huwais / Stringer / Getty

In the Arab world today, the war in Gaza dominates the news, with its small Palestinian Christian community caught in the crossfire. But over the last decade, ancient churches have faced persecution in Syria and Iraq, while political instability and terrorism have threatened believers in Egypt, Lebanon, and Jordan.

Nevertheless, the church’s activity in this region is about much more than war and persecution, as the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) chapter of the Lausanne Movement’s State of the Great Commission report shows. For example, congregations have cared for refugees, and online ministries have expanded.

One notable development is the numerical growth of Muslim-background believers (MBBs).

The report provides an ominous description of Christianity in the MENA region: “The outlook for all Christian communities is negative.” Yet the section on MBBs concludes with hope amid the devastation, predicting that “a new church, from among the majority people, will rise up from the ashes of the traditional structures.”

CT spoke with Rafik Barsoum—coauthor of the MENA chapter, president of Message to All Nations, and pastor of a digital church initiative launched in 2022—to elaborate on key ideas in the report. He described the difficulties faced by MBBs and Christian-background believers (CBBs) alike, the witness offered by both, and why he dislikes the distinction between them.

Why did the report begin with a negative assessment?

Iraq, for example, is nearly bereft of Christians. The region is experiencing war, famine, terrorism, poverty, instability, and turmoil in every way. And with any turmoil anywhere, minorities are the first to be affected. In nearly every nation, if they are not facing outright persecution, struggles such as these pressure believers to leave the region.

Ancient churches are losing their people. The Middle East was once the beacon of Christian history; now it is at risk of losing its Christian presence.

But these struggles do not suggest a gloomy picture as concerns the work of Christ. We have seen signs of revival in the last decade like never before. But a price has been paid for it that is not often covered by the news or political analysis. We do not want this persecution to continue, but new signs of hope are emerging.

One of these signs of hope is the MBB community, which the report calls a “movement.”

The word movement is a missiological term describing an intangible awareness that God is drawing people to himself in ways we cannot explain, beyond the work of any one church or organization. It is as Jesus told Nicodemus: The wind blows where it will, and we see its effects in the wave that is forming. People are coming to know the truth through dreams and visions, the work of missionaries, the testimony of the church, and online media ministry.

Amid political turmoil, people are challenging taboos and delusions of the past—independently of this movement, but also as they witness Christian love in action. God is doing something unique.

Yet the report calls this movement “small.” How should it be measured?

The MBB movement is…

This article was originally published at Christianity Today on September 26, 2024. Please click here to read the full text.

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Gaza War Strains Bible Scholars’ Model of Christian Conversation

Mlenny / Getty

When Jesus told the 12 disciples to shake the dust off their feet in protest of any town that did not receive them, it is easy to forget their mission was among fellow believers in Yahweh. Jews were speaking to Jews, and the message was simple: The kingdom of God is near.

But Jesus foresaw even greater opposition than rejection, according to Matthew 10. His disciples would be dragged before councils, flogged in the synagogues, and betrayed to death by their own brothers, he warned. “I am sending you out like sheep among wolves.”

Christian discourse on the Holy Land conflict is often similarly contentious.

“A conversation is needed,” said Darrell Bock, senior research professor of New Testament at Dallas Theological Seminary (DTS). “People talk at each other, not to each other. But with the emotion and distance between the two positions, is it even possible to try?”

Not from what another Bible scholar witnessed when each camp gathers alone.

“Their conferences only preach to the choir,” said Rob Dalrymple, course instructor of New Testament and biblical interpretation at the Flourish Institute, the seminary for evangelical Presbyterians in the ECO denomination. “Nothing changes; it only reinforces how bad the other side is.”

Each academic belongs to a community traditionally associated with one or the other side of the Israel-Palestine conflict. DTS teaches dispensationalism, which anticipates the restoration of Jews to the Promised Land before the return of Christ. Presbyterians adhere to covenant theology, which interprets the promises given to Israel—including the land—as fulfilled in Christ.

The Jews of Jesus’ day also had factions. But while “shake the dust off” was the instruction given to disciples in the face of opposition to the gospel, to all who believed in him he gave a very different message in the Sermon on the Mount:

Take the log out of your own eye first.

One group of Bible scholars…

This article was originally published at Christianity Today on October 7, 2024. Please click here to read the full text.