Muslim Mob Attacks Christian Youth Retreat

Recent incidents have led to debates over where Indonesian Christians can worship.

An aerial view of a village near Sukabumi where the attack on the villa occured.

Anadolu / Contributor / Getty

In late June, 36 Christian students gathered at a spacious white villa in Sukabumi in Indonesia’s West Java for a retreat organized by Indonesian Christian Youth Movement. Ranging from elementary to high school ages, they sang worship songs, listened to sermons, and played games.

Suddenly, on the afternoon of June 27, a mob of about 200 Muslims marched to the home shouting, “Destroy that house!” according to video clips posted on social media. Claiming that the group was unlawfully using the private residence as a religious worship site, they stormed the place, forcing the teachers and children out of the house. The mob damaged the home’s main gate, windows, gazebo, garden, and toilets, according to media reports. They also threw a motorbike into a nearby river.

Rita Muljartono, a leader at the retreat, noted that when the mob arrived, “we were all in shock, and we were trying to calm down and trying to keep the kids calm, and we went out of the room to get into the car.” She recalled in a video she posted on Instagram, “And it happened so fast that the kids couldn’t get their clothes, their bags, their equipment. We just herded them into the car.”

As they evacuated the premises, Muljartono noted all of their cars had been destroyed, as the mob had thrown rocks and broken their windows.

“This incident was really traumatizing for us and for the children in particular, as they experienced it firsthand,” she said in the video. She noted that even after the children returned home, they had trouble sleeping and have been afraid of loud noises.

After the homeowner’s younger brother filed a report on the vandalism, the police detained eight people involved in the destruction of the villa.

Christian groups as well as human rights organizations have decried the attack, noting that Indonesian law does not prohibit Christians from worshiping outside church property. Indonesia has the largest Muslim population of any country in the world, yet its government is secular and based on the principals of Pancasila: a political philosophy of monotheism, civilized humanity, national unity, deliberative democracy, and social justice.

Still, attacks on churches and Christian groups are increasing in Indonesia as government officials question whether to regulate non-church buildings serving as “prayer houses,” or places for Christians to offer prayers, praise, and worship. (The house used for the retreat would be considered a prayer house.)

“Worship like this does not have to be restricted, because it is an inherent right of religious individuals, a human right,” said Darwin Darmawan, general secretary of the Communion of Churches in Indonesia (Persekutuan Gereja-Gereja di Indonesia, PGI). “And in my opinion, as long as it does not interfere [with people around them], neighbors or the community should not prohibit it.”

Tangkil village head Ijang Sehabudin, said that the Sukabumi attack stemmed from information circulating among residents on the morning of the attack. A video stated that young people staying at the home of Maria Veronica Ninna were singing Christian worship songs.

Ijang said he and other local leaders went to the house, asking the retreat organizer to stop the gathering, but the group ignored the request. As they returned to their office to write a formal appeal letter, the mob had already started marching toward the house. “They felt that their environmental rights were being disturbed because this house is legally only a living place, not a place of worship,” Ijang told a local publication. He also said it wasn’t the first time Christians had worshiped in the house.

In a meeting between the homeowner’s brother, Yongki Dien, and local officials after the vandalism, Yongki denied the accusations by local residents that the house was a place of worship. Rather he said they used it for “just gathering and praying normally,” adding that he had coordinated the meetings with his neighbors.

Yongki agreed to stop holding religious activities at the home. The local government will compensate the family with $6,250 for the damages.

Recent years have seen an increase of religious freedom violations, according to reports from the Setara Institute. In 2024, the group recorded 402 violations—including church closures, vandalism, and mob attacks—compared to 329 the year before. West Java was the province with the highest number of violations in 2024 at 38, as Islamic right-wing groups have a strong influence in local politics.

Securing a building permit to construct church buildings in Indonesia is difficult, as a 2006 law requires churches to secure signatures of approval from 60 Christians and 90 people from another faith. Between then and 2015, more than 1,000 churches closed.

In late July, a group of Muslim men disrupted a Christian gathering and damaged the facilities of a prayer house belonging to Indonesian Faithful Christian Church’s Anugerah Padang congregation in West Sumatra. The attackers threw objects, injuring two children who were attending a service. Earlier that month, hundreds of Muslims in West Java protested the construction of a church building, claiming the church leaders had failed to communicate enough with the community about construction plans. In South Sulawesi, local officials denied a Catholic church a building permit after residents of the village voted against it. The church had waited 45 years for the permit.

The PGI, which represents 104 churches in the country, urged churches to continue worship and not to retaliate against the recent vandalism. Darmawan, the general secretary, said that any churches that gather for worship in buildings that aren’t legally church buildings should try to get the needed permits. Yet he also urged the government to facilitate and expedite the process for churches.

He also calls on congregations to “build good relationships with the surrounding community so that people realize the presence of the church is not a threat to their faith.”

Anis Hidayah, chair of the National Human Rights Commission, deplored the attack on worshipers in Sukabumi.

“This has actually harmed the right to freedom of religion and belief, which is a basic right that is not only regulated in the human rights law but also in the constitution and international conventions on civil and political rights,” Hidayah said.

Questions over permits for religious activities are not an excuse for residents to attack others, she added. She also encouraged different faith communities to engage in dialogue and understand the different styles of worship in other religions. For Muslims, corporate worship takes place in a mosque, which may make it more difficult for them to understand why Christians gather outside the church.

The head of the Indonesia’s Center for Religious Harmony, Muhammad Adib Abdushomad, argued that as a growing number of Christians use non-church buildings as prayer houses, the government needs to regulate them to prevent tensions in the community.

While prayer houses are “a religious expression guaranteed by the constitution,” their purpose as a place of worship “has an impact on the public space,” Abdushomad said in a statement. “So there is wisdom in its implementation and indeed this type of prayer house does not yet have formal procedures that can be used as a reference.”

Yet Christians view requiring permits for prayer houses as an overreach.

“The context in Indonesia: We have regulation that if you want to construct a place of worship, you have to get a permit with many requirements,” said Irma Simanjuntak, who attends an ethnic Batak church in North Sumatra’s Pematangsiantar. “But now the radical community also prohibits worship activity in retreat houses and in our houses.”

Rio Boelan, a member of the Protestant Church in Western Indonesia in Bali, noted that while it’s important to inform local officials if they are holding a retreat, “worship doesn’t require a permit because it’s a human right.”

Meanwhile, Muljartono, the teacher at the Sukabumi retreat, agreed.

“As Christians, we still have to worship,” she said in the video. “It can be anywhere, either at home or in church.”

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Books

Review

How to Be Faithful When You’re Too Busy to Think

Kenna Hartian

Tara Sun’s new book is a practical and realistic call to Christ-centered faithfulness for women who are overbooked and overwhelmed.

Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: Getty, Unsplash

It was well past 1 a.m., and I was still frantically working on an article with a deadline just hours away. I was exhausted but couldn’t sleep yet. Between classes and work, I knew the article wouldn’t be in on time if I didn’t finish it immediately—but I was near tears as I remembered the editing I still had to do. To top it off, I wasn’t going to have time to read my Bible, and I felt enormously guilty about it. I couldn’t even look forward to going to bed, knowing I’d have to get up far too early and spend the next day working feverishly.

This late-night rush to finish homework happened far more times than I could count last semester. And it wasn’t that I was procrastinating. Between full-time classes, my internship at a local newspaper, attempts to have a social life, and work as a conservative speaker, writer, and podcast host, I barely had time to think, let alone get everything done.

Probably every woman has gone through a period of feeling that it’s impossible to keep up. Tara Sun knows this well. Sun is a mother, the host of the podcast Truth Talks with Tara, an influencer, a speaker, and the author of several books, most recently the aptly titled Overbooked and Overwhelmed: How to Keep Up with God When You’re Just Trying to Keep Up with Life. Using her own struggles with busyness and distraction, Sun shares what she’s learned about prioritizing faith and slowing down.

Sun’s central theme is that “Jesus is better.” In fact, she writes, “before we named this book Overbooked and Overwhelmed, I toyed with the idea of including ‘Jesus is better’ in the title. … This is the bedrock upon which this whole book stands.”

We are overwhelmed not only because we have a lot to do, Sun argues, but also because we’re distracted and focusing on the wrong things. We’ve filled every space in our lives with something—be it scrolling social media for a quick five minutes, watching TV while doing mundane tasks, or listening to podcasts while we travel—using up time we should be giving to Christ.

“The little choices we make each day, saying yes to either devotion or distraction, add up,” Sun says. “Our choices, like ignoring our Bible yet again and scrolling social media, may feel inconsequential in the moment, but those choices put down roots too, whether we realize it or not.”

To break this pattern, she explains, we need to examine ourselves and discern what we’re desiring above the Lord, because the things we value influence how we live. We naturally long for peace, comfort, security, and acceptance, but too often we’re seeking them from sources other than God. In the midst of our over-busy, fast-paced lives, the fundamental answer to our feelings of overwhelm is to prioritize Jesus over our calendars.

But practically, how do we do that when our lives feel like a never-ending whirlwind? Sun stresses the importance of building habits and taking the time to reflect on what God has done in our lives.

Each chapter ends with reflection questions women can use to examine our minds and hearts and reorient our lives to focus on Christ. I know from experience that taking time to journal through questions like this can be a more effective teaching tool than reading alone, and Sun does a good job highlighting and then dismantling lies readers may have come to believe about busyness and distraction. Her practical tips for reorienting life around Jesus are tips we can actually follow.

In a few places, however, Overbooked and Overwhelmed struck me as a bit wordy and redundant, as if Sun didn’t have quite enough substance for a project of this size. For instance, when Sun is explaining the importance of devotion to Christ, she says the same thing multiple times in different ways. Her conversational tone would feel natural in an Instagram caption but didn’t always translate well to print.

A more serious flaw was some of Sun’s scriptural exegesis. Though the bulk of Overbooked and Overwhelmed is biblically sound, Sun sometimes plays fast and loose when turning to Scripture to support minor points—points that could have stood on their own as simple Christian prudence or that could have been better supported with other parts of the Bible. In these spots, Sun would pull a lesson the story wasn’t meant to teach or use a verse to make a point that had nothing to do with what the passage was saying.

For example, Sun gives a quick recap of the story of David and Goliath from 1 Samuel 17, focusing on the part where Saul gives David his armor to try on. David “tried in vain to go,” verse 39 says, and could not, “for he had not tested them” (ESV throughout). Sun concludes this retelling by commenting that “David playing dress-up in Saul’s armor teaches us something profound: What fits for some may not fit for others.”

That’s not false, and it may even be reminiscent of Paul talking in 1 Corinthians 9 about becoming all things to all people so he can deliver the unchanging gospel. But it’s not the point of David and Goliath. The story is about David’s faith and his total reliance on God, rather than external things like Saul’s armor, to defeat the giant.

It’s also not scripturally inaccurate to recognize, as Sun does, that human limitations can be a good thing: “Limitations, if seen through the lens of Christ, are liberating. They push us towards God’s strength when we come to the end of ours. And they are license to give two of life’s most precious commodities—time and energy—to the things of God.”

But when Mark 10:14 says, “Let the children come to me,” Jesus is not talking about the beauty of limitations. He’s highlighting God’s love for children and saying we should come to Christ with a trusting, childlike faith.

It’s not necessarily wrong to draw this kind of subpoint from Scripture—but it’s certainly not strong argumentation. And it risks looking as if the Bible is being used in service to a predetermined point rather than serving as inspiration and authority.

Fortunately, most of Overbooked and Overwhelmed doesn’t follow that pattern. The book is helpful for women who feel that they can’t keep up with life, much less their faith. As someone who is constantly overbooked and overwhelmed (you thought that frantic writing session was just last semester? You should see my summer schedule!), I found Overbooked and Overwhelmed to be encouraging.

Sun was at her best in calling out situations we don’t normally think of as problematic in our day-to-day lives, such as constantly being distracted and surrounded by the noise of social media, overbooked calendars, and overwhelmed hearts:

If we’re being honest, a lot of us don’t see distraction as a detriment to our souls. We don’t see the problem. Don’t we deserve to enjoy what makes us feel happy and rested? Don’t we deserve a little relief and entertainment when we work hard or when life is hard? Is distraction really that soul deep? What if it’s just the norm in this thing we call the twenty-first century?

It might be the norm, but Sun makes a compelling case that it shouldn’t be. Even when we don’t think our distractions are a big deal—it’s just five minutes on Instagram—they add up and often, subtly but surely, reshape our lives for the worse.

That’s especially true when we allow ourselves to be distracted from spending time with Jesus. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the things God has given us, Sun acknowledges, but we must not let them distract us from God as the source and center of our lives.

When my schedule is busy, I tend to reach for my phone or turn on a TV show during breaks because I just want to turn my brain off. Even when I get up in the morning, my first instinct is to scroll rather than read my Bible, because thinking itself can feel overwhelming. Overbooked and Overwhelmed reminded me anew that the fleeting comfort from numbing my brain will leave me empty and less mature in Christ.

“Netflix and Instagram may provide a hit of dopamine or a retreat from reality, and they definitely have their perks, but those perks are fleeting for our souls,” Sun writes. “A well that will always run out, a cistern too broken to hold anything of value. But how our souls really, truly, and deeply find satisfaction is through devoting ourselves to God.”

It’s easy to remember God works in us to sanctify us—and too easy to forget we have a responsibility as believers to make the right choices. Though God is working in our hearts, we still have a responsibility, Sun says, to “roll up our sleeves and participate in the work God starts and sustains in us.”

Practically, Sun advises, that may look like being more specific about the habit you want to form and layering it on top of something you’re already doing. Say you want to get some Bible reading in every morning, but you can’t seem to make time. Could you listen to Scripture while you’re making breakfast, commuting, or working out?

For women who desperately want to be closer to God but are so busy we can barely think, these practical ideas are a blessing. Sun provides realistic ways of keeping Christ the focus of our lives, including suggestions for reflection and creating goals. She explores the tendency to say yes too frequently and God’s ability to work through us—including our weaknesses and the times we have to say no. And she makes sense of our limitations, pointing out that Christ, though fully God, is fully human, and therefore had physical limitations too. Jesus, the Son of God, needed to spend time with his heavenly Father just as we do. He prioritized it where we too often do not.

It is vital to refocus our minds and hearts on the one who matters most, because our stress and responsibilities can only be handled through him. Even when our responsibilities are good, if we’re not focusing on Jesus, they can become burdens too heavy for us to bear.

“A wasted life happens,” Sun says, “when we let our forgetfulness of who God is and what we were made for allow us to live small and live forgetful of His goodness, His truth, and His commission.” I needed that reminder, and I know many women—and men—do as well.

Kenna Hartian is the Habecker fellow at Christianity Today.

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Culture

The Documentary That Devastated Me

Valerie Red-Horse Mohl

I’m a Native American and a Christian, and “Sugarcane” also moved me to prayer.

A statue of Mary and Baby Jesus looks over St. Joseph’s Mission, a former Indian residential school in British Columbia, in the documentary, Sugarcane.

Christopher LaMarca / Sugarcane Film LLC

A Native American–directed documentary, Sugarcane, made history earlier this year when it earned a nomination for an Academy Award.

Codirected by Julian Brave NoiseCat (Secwepemc Nation) and Emily Kassie, the film investigates the abuses against and disappearances of Indigenous children at Saint Joseph’s Mission Indian Residential School in British Columbia—and also delves into the traumatic legacy of the larger Native American Indian residential school system across Canada and the US. Highlighting stories from survivors and descendants, Sugarcane exposes for the first time a pattern of infanticide, the killing of babies who were fathered by priests and born to Indigenous girls.

Although it didn’t take home the Oscar, Sugarcane garnered critical acclaim, winning Best Documentary at the National Board of Review, US Documentary Directing Award at the Sundance Film Festival, and Best True Crime Documentary at the Critics’ Choice Awards. Since its 2024 debut, the movie has screened globally, sparking a grassroots movement to uncover the truth about hundreds of other schools.

From the mid to late 1800s until the 1970s, hundreds of thousands of Native children were forced to attend state-funded Christian schools in an attempt to “anglicize” and assimilate them into Canadian and American society. They were not allowed to speak their native languages or practice cultural traditions. Many were beaten and verbally abused, and thousands are believed to have died. Many young children perished because they attempted to escape, freezing in the harsh Canadian winter.

In Canada alone, a report by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission identified 3,200 children who died while attending residential schools. Canada’s institutions were very similar to facilities in the United States; between the two countries there were approximately 500 residential schools, often operated by Catholic and Protestant denominations.

As a documentary filmmaker myself, I appreciate the years of research that went into the making of Sugarcane. As a Christian—and Native American by heritage—I’m devastated by the shameful stories of violent sexual crimes and infanticide. It would be hideous if these crimes had been committed by hardened criminals. It’s all the more appalling that they were perpetrated by church leaders, entrusted to be child caretakers and preachers of the gospel.

The night after watching Sugarcane, I couldn’t sleep. I’d cringed, screamed, and wept through the movie, and now I couldn’t stop thinking about it. My father, who was Cherokee and born on Indian territory in Oklahoma, was forced to attend a boarding school as a very young child. Although I do not believe he was sexually abused, our family has certainly felt the effects and emotional scars of his traumatic experiences.

As I felt God calling me to react to Sugarcane, I prayed that the Native American community might understand that these actions were not of Jesus, and might believe that the Lord will judge the violent school officials. Indeed, one emphasis of Jesus’ ministry was his admonishment of church leaders for hypocritical behavior. He called them “whitewashed tombs,” beautiful on the outside but full of bones on the inside (Matt. 23:27–28). He chastised those who honored him with their lips while their hearts were far away (Mark 7:6–8). And he warned that if someone caused a child to stumble, it would be “better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea” (Matt. 18:6).

I continue to pray that the Native American community may understand the true nature of Jesus Christ: his love, his mercy, his support of children and others who are persecuted. Native Americans are in general a faithful people. According to recent surveys, around 6 in 10 identify as Christian believers. And yet one must wonder how much harm the horrors of these boarding schools did to the message of the gospel and trust in the church.

According to codirector Emily Kassie, Sugarcane is being screened post–award season for government officials, in classrooms, and in tribal community locations, including in New Zealand. I hope that through these screenings, Native communities can understand that beyond sin and hypocrisy there is healing and redemption at the hands of our Lord. Scripture promises ultimate judgement and victory from God (Rom. 12:19; 1 Cor. 5:10), and this gives me peace that I hope I can convey in my own life.

I also pray that as Christians we will remember that God created many peoples and cultures and that even though we are all one in Christ, we cannot ignore the differences between us. I encourage people of all backgrounds to celebrate Native American heritage and culture while also understanding tribes’ heartbreaking histories. Many tribal nations have museums and celebrations to which all are invited.

I recently led a Bible study based on the book B eyond Colorblind: Redeeming Our Ethnic Journey. Author Sarah Shin writes that “when we experience internal transformation in our ethnic journeys, God propels us outward in a reconciling witness to the world. Ethnic healing can demonstrate God’s power and goodness and bring good news to others.” My own ethnic-healing journey has been a story of two communities (Native American and Christian) intersecting and fusing to result in the inner contentment of my identity; of my mission; and of the deep, abiding love of Christ.

My prayer is that all of us can love the way Jesus loves us, with that love bringing healing and reconciliation to Native American communities and beyond.

Valerie Red-Horse Mohl (Cherokee) is a board member of Christianity Today, a finance professional, and an award-winning documentary filmmaker. She teaches part-time within Native American Studies at Stanford University.

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Theology

Put Down the Shofar

Brad East

Contributor

The early church earnestly considered the question of Gentile observance of Jewish law and customs. Their answer was a firm no.

Moses with the Tablets of the Ten Commandments by Rembrandt.

WikiMedia Commons / Edits by CT

One day a student approached me after class with an urgent question. The course was on the doctrine of the church, and we’d spent a few weeks on Abraham, Israel, and the law of Moses. Some years back, my student’s family left a mainstream congregation to found a house church which sought to be more like the Christian communities in the Book of Acts. Though Gentiles, they began observing Jewish customs and celebrating the festivals commanded by Moses, including Passover.

My student asked me earnestly, “Were we wrong?” This small church was trying to heed the admonition of James to “be doers of the word,” following “the perfect law, the law of liberty” (1:22–25, RSV throughout). And their logic was impeccable: The Torah (the Hebrew word for the law of Moses) is God’s Word for God’s people. Baptized Gentiles are members of God’s people; therefore, they ought to obey these commands.

The question is not a trivial one, nor is it obscure in American Christian life. You’re likely familiar with shofars blown in public, Seder meals for Passover, and circumcision for baby boys. But as common and well-intended as these may be, I want to explain why I told my student that, yes, his house church was wrong—or at least, misguided. The New Testament is not silent on the question of Gentile observance of the law of Moses. And its answer is a firm no.

The apostles are clear that Gentiles—that is, non-Jews, people who do not descend biologically from Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—need not become Jewish to follow Christ. Indeed, Paul goes further, particularly in his letter to the Galatians, where a young church had been convinced that God required circumcision and law following for Gentile salvation. He writes there that if Gentiles are circumcised, “Christ will be of no advantage to you” (5:2–4). Any who say otherwise, he charges, are preaching “another gospel,” one that is “accursed” (1:7–9).

Yet for all that clarity, I understand why the question is perennial. It certainly mattered to the early church—arguably it prompted the first theological crisis the apostles faced, and every document of the New Testament bears the impression of this debate. The question could be phrased from two different perspectives. Jewish believers asked, On what basis may Gentiles join us? Once included, Gentile believers asked, On what basis is the Torah authoritative for us?

The question didn’t stand alone but drew together a host of others: the oneness and justice of God, the sacrifice of Christ, the authority of Scripture, the election of Abraham, the vocation of the Jews, the scope of salvation, the gift of the Spirit, the purpose of faith, and the efficacy of baptism. Given its implications, everything hung on getting the answer to this question right.

The New Testament is written more or less entirely from the first perspective. This presents a conundrum for a church that has long been majority Gentile: How should we interpret texts written by Jews to Gentiles joining a religiously and mostly ethnically Jewish movement? The questions they were answering are subtly different from the questions we face today.

Nevertheless, we should start with their debates. Very early the apostles realized that Gentiles were eager to join the faith. It took the intervention of the Spirit to help them see that this was God’s will (Acts 10:1–11:18; Gal. 2:11–21). But eventually they couldn’t deny that Gentiles were receiving faith, baptism, and the gift of the Holy Spirit. Christ himself was welcoming Gentiles into his family, the family of Abraham.

What does it mean to become a child of Abraham? For Jewish believers, the answer in Genesis 17 came from God in no uncertain terms: “This is my covenant, which you shall keep, between me and you and your descendants after you: Every male among you shall be circumcised,” and any male not circumcised “has broken my covenant” (vv. 10–14). You couldn’t ask for a clearer command.

This is the biblical case pious Jewish believers brought forward for the apostles to consider. These believers were neither xenophobic nor racist, as they are sometimes labeled. They simply wanted Gentiles to join the family on the terms God had set. As they understood the Scriptures, that meant circumcision. And circumcision in turn stood for following the whole law, because it is the sign of the covenant and the doorway into all its obligations. On this, Paul agreed: “Every man who receives circumcision … is bound to keep the whole law” (Gal. 5:3).

It was hardly unreasonable for faithful Jewish Christians to suppose this long-standing command would remain the same for Gentile converts. After all, God’s command to Abraham even included circumcising foreigners joined to his house (Gen. 17:12–13)! So Jewish believers applied Scripture to the newfound situation of baptized Gentiles: “Unless you are circumcised according to the custom of Moses, you cannot be saved. … It is necessary to circumcise them, and to charge them to keep the law of Moses” (Acts 15:1, 5).

It seems to me that many believers today are like early Gentile Christians ready to go “all the way” as new members of Abraham’s household. This was the exact attitude that animated my student’s house church. They read the opening chapters of Acts and wanted to imitate the early church. A worthy impulse! But what they failed to do—and what I believe too many Gentile believers fail to do—is follow this thread of debate through the rest of the book.

The apostles approached the question of Gentiles and the law with the utmost seriousness. In Acts 15, we see them meet in Jerusalem with the church’s elders to consider the matter (v. 6). Peter bore witness to the work of the Spirit in Gentiles like the God-fearer Cornelius, whose story is recounted five chapters prior (vv. 7–11). Barnabas and Paul bore witness to the “signs and wonders God had done through them among the Gentiles” (v. 12). And finally, James arose to deliver the verdict (vv. 13–21).

The council’s answer was unambiguous: No, Gentiles need not be circumcised to follow Jesus; no, Gentiles need not be law observant to join the church; no, salvation is not impossible apart from the Torah. The grace of God is sufficient for all, and faith in Christ is available to all.

As Paul would later write, “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus. And if you are Christ’s, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to promise” (Gal. 3:27–29).

If James announced the ruling, Paul provided the reasons. Jesus is the Messiah of Israel. As the seed or descendant of Abraham, he is the one in whom all the promises of God are fulfilled (Gal. 3:14–18; 2 Cor. 1:20). The love of God comes to a head in him; grace and truth are flesh and blood in Mary’s son (John 1:17). To have Jesus, then, is to have everything: God as heavenly Father, Abraham as human father, and every promise God made to Abraham—blessing, family, election, covenant, inheritance, and posterity. In a word, life.

Take note that Peter, James, and Paul retain the background assumptions of the pro-Torah party in the Judean church. Redemption is not found apart from Abraham, or the covenant God established with him, or the people of God as a whole. As Jesus affirmed, “Salvation is from the Jews” (John 4:22).

Yet through Jesus, Gentiles are adopted as children of Abraham just as Jews and Gentiles alike are adopted as children of God (Rom 3:9–8:25; Gal. 3:6–5:1; Eph. 2:11–22). It was always God’s intention to bless the families of the earth (the Gentiles) through the one family of Abraham (the Jews). Christ “is our peace, who has made us both one,” reconciling Jews and Gentiles “to God in one body through the cross” so that “through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father” (Eph. 2:14, 16, 18).

In this sense, the pro-Torah party was right: Jesus is not a way to avoid either Abraham or his family. Jesus is a way—the way—to join them. He doesn’t “abolish the law and the prophets” but fulfills them (Matt 5:17–18). As Paul outlines in exacting detail in the Book of Romans, God is faithful simultaneously to Abraham, to his biological descendants, and to his adopted children.

Still, the apostles’ verdict at the Jerusalem council opens further questions for present-day interpretation. Neither circumcision nor Torah observance is a condition for receiving salvation in Christ—granted. But what then of Moses’ law? What is its status for faith, discipleship, and the church? How should Christians read it as the Word of the Lord to and for his people?

The place to start is where the New Testament is clearest: Gentiles are not meant to keep the law of Moses. They are not supposed to keep kosher, celebrate Jewish festivals, or circumcise their boys as a ritual sign of Torah observance. To do so is spiritually risky, suggesting—just as Paul warned the Galatians—that Christ alone is insufficient for salvation or implying that God is unable or unwilling to bring Gentiles into the fold as Gentiles.

This is the insecurity of the younger brother or, better said, the adopted sibling. Yet Paul reiterates time and again to Gentile Christians that Christ is enough. Torah observance is not the “next level” for spiritual maturity or devotion.

Confessing faith in Christ, we receive him in baptism, where his Spirit writes his law on our hearts, and we rise from the waters as children of God and Abraham both. Circumcision adds nothing to this, nor can anything else: “For neither circumcision counts for anything, nor uncircumcision, but a new creation” (Gal. 6:15). “Therefore let no one pass judgment on you in questions of food and drink or with regard to a festival or a new moon or a sabbath. These are only a shadow of what is to come; but the substance belongs to Christ” (Col. 2:16–17).

To be sure, Gentile Christians who use shofars or host Seders do not claim God requires these things for salvation. Yet many believe that Torah observance, if not mandatory for Gentile Christians, is nonetheless spiritually wise and edifying. This strikes me as difficult to square with the plain teaching of Galatians about Gentiles and the law.

Others simply want to get in touch with the Jewish roots of Christian faith. At the risk of raining on a well-meaning parade, allow me to place a question mark next to this practice. Seder meals, for instance, are not an ancient ritual long extinct; living Jewish families hold them every year. Gentile Christians trying on a Jewish rite that their own faith doesn’t instruct them to observe may not be “another gospel.” But it is in danger of slipping into a kind of ethnoreligious cosplay.

It should go without saying that I do not mean that churches should not teach or learn about Passover, whether in Scripture or in contemporary Jewish practice, perhaps in friendship with Jewish neighbors. But Gentile Christians curious about Passover need to remember that they have a Passover meal of their own: the Lord’s Supper. This is the church’s memorial meal of the new covenant wrought by the blood of Christ. As Paul wrote to the Gentiles in Corinth, “Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us: Therefore let us keep the feast” (1 Cor 5:7–8, KJV).

As to the authority of the Torah for Christians today, it remains God’s Word for his people. For Gentiles, it is a narrative that reveals God’s creation of the world, his calling of a people, and his deliverance of them from bondage in Egypt. It further unveils his will for this people as a nation distinct from other nations, including guidance for royal governance, ritual sacrifices, and moral behavior.

Christian tradition has tended to say that the first two kinds of instruction were specific to the Davidic kingdom of ancient Israel and its Levitical priesthood centered on the Jerusalem temple. Now that they are fulfilled in the priest-king Jesus, they have much to teach us but are not binding the way that, for example, the Ten Commandments still are. This too stems from the verdict in Acts 15.

The tricky business is what the church should think about the status of some of these commands for Jewish Christians. Peter and James in the Book of Acts seem to presuppose the law’s continuing authority for Messianic Jews, and even Paul in Romans and Galatians appears to assume that the church will include the circumcised and the uncircumcised in perpetuity, just as it will always include both men and women. The apostles did not easily foresee a day when the super-majority of Christ’s body would be Gentiles and the Resurrection would be centuries behind us.

I am in the minority of Christian theologians who believe that parts of the ceremonial Torah remain binding on all Jews, including baptized believers. It’s not salvific for Messianic Jews any more than the moral law is salvific for Gentiles—yet I think it’s binding just the same.

I can’t argue the full case here, but let me show you why it matters. Paul’s driving vision was for Jews and Gentiles to be united and reconciled in Christ without Jews becoming Gentiles or Gentiles becoming Jews. He came to realize that this was God’s plan all along. By the Spirit’s power, this unity is itself a testimony to the Father’s matchless glory (Eph. 1:3–23) and a preview of the countless multitudes in Revelation, who hail from both the 12 tribes of Israel (7:1–8) and “all tribes and peoples and tongues” (v. 9). What they share is love for the Lamb of God.

Paul anticipated this final unity when, some 25 years after the Resurrection, he wrote to Jewish and Gentile believers in Rome struggling to share a common life. After much dense argument, he summarizes the Good News for them: “Christ became a servant to the circumcised to show God’s truthfulness, in order to confirm the promises given to the patriarchs, and in order that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy” (15:8–9).

This single sentence says it all, and in so doing it captures Paul’s purpose in writing to them: “that together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ” (v. 6). The Lord, in short, wants to hear both Jews and Gentiles singing aloud with one voice. This polyphony of praise is the point of all God’s ways and works in the world. No believer need envy another’s part. When the result is harmony in difference, then we know we are on the right path. When someone’s part goes silent, then we know that something has gone wrong.

Brad East is an associate professor of theology at Abilene Christian University. He is the author of four books, including The Church: A Guide to the People of God and Letters to a Future Saint.

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How to Lead a Youth Group Through a Missile Attack

Jill Nelson

Ukrainian teens and tweens learn to pray and read Psalms through a Russian bombardment.

Sergey Vivchar, left, and the Baptist youth group that he leads in Dnipro, Ukraine.

Sergey Vivchar

At 1:30 a.m. on July 26, Sergey Vivchar heard his city’s air-raid siren and jumped out of bed. He knew he had less than three minutes to find a safer location before Russian missiles hit.

He went to the corner of his bathroom, away from the windows, and sat down. He got on his phone and sent a group message to the Baptist youth group he leads. Many of the 30 teenagers were scared.

“These kids carry pain and trauma far beyond their age,” Vivchar told Christianity Today. “Some cry during air raids. Others tremble and hide. Some simply scream in fear.”

This night was particularly long. Vivchar, a pastor at Ark Church, counted 30 explosions that shook the eastern city of Dnipro, Ukraine. The drone and missile attacks continued until 5 a.m.

A 12-year-old girl named Tanya told the group, “I’m afraid! I’m afraid all the time.” Vivchar led them in prayer. He guided the group through breathing exercises. He asked them to repeat the Bible verses they studied during summer camp, from Psalms 58 and 62, where David talks about putting his trust in God even when his life is in danger.

The group continued to send voice memos and texts. Tanya said she felt better, but another explosion made her panic. Vivchar asked the group to pray again.

“Yes, it’s a little bit easier for me now,” said Tanya.

The barrage killed three people and wounded six. Russia has intensified its aerial campaign in recent months, with hundreds of drones firing upon civilian centers nearly every night. The attacks have overwhelmed Ukrainian defense systems.

Last Monday, US president Donald Trump changed his 50-day cease-fire deadline. The new deadline is 10 days. He threatened to enforce “very severe tariffs” on Russia and secondary tariffs on countries buying Russian oil and gas if President Vladimir Putin doesn’t agree to end his war in Ukraine.

“I’m not so interested in talking [to Putin] anymore,” Trump said. “He talks, we have such nice conversations, … and then people die the following night” in a missile strike.

Many Ukrainians question whether Putin will accept a cease-fire, even with US pressure.

Trump announced the new deadline on July 28. That night, Russian missiles and drones rained down in three cities, hitting a hospital and killing at least 22 people, including a 23-year-old pregnant woman.

One of the cities was 20 miles west of Dnipro. “The sounds of the explosions there were so powerful that I heard them in our city,” Vivchar said. “Maybe Putin didn’t hear about Trump’s ultimatum?”

Each day that passes brings more deaths, he added. Vivchar frequently sees social media posts from friends across the country who have lost loved ones, and three deacons from his church have died fighting on the frontlines, including one last month. The soldier, Volodymyr Holer, was a close friend of Vivchar’s and left behind a wife and a five-year-old.

Vivchar is encouraged by one of the last texts he got from Holer, telling him he needed to keep ministering to teenagers.

“If Ukrainians don’t have believers who trust Christ and who follow Christ, we don’t have a Ukraine,” the text said. “I cannot see Ukraine without Christ and without Christians.”

Vivchar, who has worked with teens for 16 years, said God is at work in Ukraine, even as the country faces suffering and grief. When the full-scale war began, 70 percent of Ark Church’s 150 congregants fled. But then the church gained 700 new people, who came to Dnipro from regions Russia occupied. The church’s youth programs have drawn many into the pews on Sundays, and Vivchar has seen a lot of teenagers come to faith in Christ and engage in daily Bible reading and prayer.

But the entire country is feeling the strain of more than three years of war.

Vladyslav Sobolevskyi, adviser to the commander of Ukraine’s 3rd Army Corps, told CT that many soldiers have been fighting since 2022. Approximately 2,000 soldiers have been on the frontlines since 2019. Some have served since the first Russian invasion in 2014, Sobolevskyi noted.

Vivchar said the church is also encountering fatigue.

Many Christians, including pastors, have left the country. Others, like Vivchar, have stayed to help meet the spiritual needs all around them, but sent their families away to keep them safe. Vivchar’s wife and eight-year-old daughter are temporarily living in England alongside a group of Ukrainian orphans and foster families. His wife serves as a translator for the group. Sometimes he misses them desperately.

Vivchar said 90 to 95 percent of Ukrainians have experienced some form of psychological distress from war and displacement. Teenagers have missed out on much of their childhood due to both COVID-19 lockdowns and years of war.

“They sit all the time in a basement because almost every day Russia tries to kill us,” Vivchar said.

A 2024 JAMA Pediatrics study concluded that Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has greatly impacted the mental health of Ukrainian adolescents, with those exposed to war “more likely to screen positive for PTSD, depression, anxiety, substance use disorder, and eating disorders.”

Vivchar has taught his youth group the trauma-response techniques he learned during a spring retreat sponsored by The Renewal Initiative. He said one of the most helpful tools involves bringing yourself “back to the present moment through breathing, sensory awareness, and prayer.”

He taught the teenagers how to count their inhales and exhales during a Russian attack and name things they can see, hear, touch, taste, and smell. The tools help, but he says the most important thing the teens have learned is that “Jesus is near, even in the darkest moments. That’s our comfort.”

One of the church youths, 16-year-old Anya Volkova, said Russia has attacked Dnipro approximately ten times this past year, usually on a large scale. She has things she does now on nights when suicide drones are crashing into buildings. She grabs her two cats and runs with her family to the nearest shelter.

Then, as she learned in youth group, she prays.

“I ask God to protect all of the people who are in danger now,” she said. “And as soon as I finish, the anxiety immediately leaves me, and I feel like everything is fine now because I entrusted it to God’s hands.”

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Pastors

Ministry Lessons from the Bottom of the Cave

Thomas Anderson

Elijah’s greatest lesson came not from fire on the mountain, but from a whisper in the dark. When pastors feel like quitting, God may be just getting started.

Marcia Straub / Getty

On my desk there’s a photo I usually keep facedown. It shows our church plant’s launch team in my living room, our hands joined in prayer and our faces bright with anticipation—27 people who believed God had called us to something extraordinary. Three years of preparation, planning meetings, financial sacrifice, and kingdom-sized dreams captured in a single frame.

The man in that photo believed he had ministry figured out. He believed faithfulness plus hard work plus prayer equaled predictable kingdom results. He hadn’t yet watched his calling crumble in real time. He hadn’t sat in a cave, wrapped his cloak around his face, and begged God to let him die (1 Kings 19:4, 13).

I keep the photo facedown because in my darkest pastoral season, I couldn’t yet see what God was doing. He was accomplishing something in the darkness that couldn’t happen in the light. He was teaching me truths about his character that I could never learn from spiritual strength. He was revealing depths of his love visible only from the bottom of the pit.

If you’re reading this with discouragement pressing against your chest like a stone—if you’ve wondered whether you misheard God’s call or whether your ministry has become a cruel joke—then you need to meet Elijah again.

Not the Elijah of Mount Carmel who calls down fire and makes false prophets look foolish. That Elijah is the pastor we all want to be.

I’m talking about the other version of Elijah. The one under the broom tree. The one who runs from a queen’s threat right after witnessing the most spectacular move of God since Sinai.

The Elijah nobody talks about

Here’s what nobody tells you about ministry: You can believe in God’s sovereignty with your mind and still forget that the Lord is God when the messenger arrives with bad news. In 1 Kings 19, Elijah has just orchestrated Israel’s greatest spiritual victory since Moses. But when Jezebel threatens to have his head by sunrise, the prophet who called down fire and rain forgets every drop of theology he’s ever taught—and runs for his life.

His fear doesn’t come from weak faith. It comes from a broken heart. Elijah isn’t disillusioned because he stopped believing; he is undone because he has believed deeply, passionately, sacrificially. He has given everything to see the one thing he desires: for God to be glorified in Israel. He longs for conversion, repentance, revival. He wants to be the instrument God uses to bring it about.

Then Jezebel’s threat shatters those hopes. And his world collapses.

You know the feeling. You pray and preach your heart out, but your church hasn’t grown in years. You shepherd 65 people who argue about the fellowship-hall carpet while prosperity preachers fill arenas. You celebrate spiritual growth in a new congregant but grieve as your child walks away from the faith. Your wife loves Jesus, but she’s tired of sharing you with everyone else’s crises.

Elijah’s despair isn’t a weakness. It is the grief of a shattered dream. He forgets his own name—which means “Yahweh is my God”—along with the very message he wants Israel to embrace.

When God doesn’t give you what you want

So Elijah flees—then he hides in a cave at Mount Horeb, wanting to die. God meets him, but not the way you would expect. First comes a wind that shreds mountains. Then an earthquake that splits the earth. Then a fire that consumes everything in its path. It is exactly what Elijah has always wanted: a spectacular demonstration of God’s power that would compel Israel to believe.

But Elijah stays hidden. He no longer wants to see glory. His dreams lie around him, shattered like broken pottery.

Then comes a whisper. Elijah wraps his cloak around his face, shielding himself from the displays of glory. God speaks—not with consolation, as you’d expect, but with confrontation: What are you doing here? This isn’t where you’re supposed to be. I’ve got work for you.

Then comes what might be the hardest assignment any faithful servant has ever received: Go anoint a Syrian king, a godless Israelite ruler, and another prophet who will finish what you started. You’re not the one to bring the revival you longed for.

Those are crushing words for a man who has lived for one thing.

But here’s what I’ve learned in my own seasons of spiritual dryness and ministry disappointment:

When a voice whispers, “You should always have your heart’s desires,” you can be sure it speaks with a hiss from a forked tongue.

But when you hear, “That treasure you long for? You can’t have it—but I’ll give you me instead,” you can always trust where that voice comes from.

God will not let you preach a message you refuse to live. He loves you too much to leave your idols intact, even when those idols are good things like ministry success, church growth, or seeing your children follow Jesus.

The ruthless compassion of God

What happens to Elijah next reveals something stunning about God’s character. Even when God appears to be hard on his servants, his provision is staggeringly loving, generous, and kind.

How does Elijah’s story end? In 2 Kings 2, as he prepares to pass his mantle to Elisha, something extraordinary happens. Elisha asks for a “double portion” of Elijah’s spirit (v. 9). Elijah responds with a strange condition: “If you see me when I am taken from you, it will be yours—otherwise, it will not” (v. 10).

Then verse 11: “As they were walking along and talking together, suddenly a chariot of fire and horses of fire appeared and separated the two of them, and Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind.”

Do you see what God did? The man who was once so dead to hope that he couldn’t bear to look at God’s glory in the whirlwind is now ushered into glory—by a whirlwind and chariots of fire. God knows the deepest desires of his servants’ hearts. The one who takes Elijah home is worth infinitely more than anything he ever took away.

And still the story gets better. In Luke 9, Elijah appears again—this time on another mountain. Alongside Moses, he stares into the transfigured face of Christ. The man who begged to see God’s glory but was told no—and the man who didn’t want to see it at all—is now beholding the glory of God in the face of Jesus.

What the darkness teaches

In my darkest pastoral season, when my church plant collapsed before it even began—three years of preparation evaporating in a matter of weeks, 27 faithful people scattering to other congregations—I questioned everything I thought I knew about God’s calling. But I also learned something I could never have discovered in the light of success: that God’s love for me has nothing to do with my ministerial performance. I learned firsthand how he pursues his servants with ruthless compassion, stripping away everything we think we need so we can discover that he alone is enough.

The darkness redefined me, not as a successful planter or even a faithful pastor but as a beloved son. It taught me that the approval I’d been striving for was already mine in Christ—apart from any ministerial achievement.

Here’s what I couldn’t see while sitting in my own cave of discouragement: God was reshaping my vision, slowly and kindly. Through loss and limitation, he revealed aspects of his character I could never learn through seasons of spiritual strength. He was showing me depths of his love that become visible only from the bottom of the pit.

Every shepherd eventually faces a choice. We can fixate on the treasures we’ve lost—the ministries we dreamed of, the family lives we hoped for, the congregations that would hang on our every word—or we can discover that Jesus himself is the treasure that can never be taken.

The pastors who endure and thrive aren’t the ones who dodge disappointment. They’re the ones who keep limping forward, having learned that God’s grace is sufficient and his power is perfected in weakness. They’ve fixed their eyes on him, not on what might have been, as their ultimate treasure.

Missionary and martyr Jim Elliot said, “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.” I would only add, “Especially when what you cannot lose is God himself.”

The darkness has something to teach you that the light cannot. Don’t waste your cave season longing for Mount Carmel. Let God strip away your idols—even the “good” ones—until he alone is your vision, your treasure, and the satisfaction of your soul.

Thomas Anderson is the pastor of disciple making at Grace Community Church in Fulton, Maryland.

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Pastors

Pastor, Should I Stay or Should I Go (to Another Denomination)?

Matthew Z. Capps

It requires pastoral wisdom to walk with members who feel at home in your church but burdened by the weight of its denominational baggage.

Klaus Vedfelt / Getty

Anthony Chute begins his introductory essay in Why We Belong—a book exploring evangelical unity and denominational diversity—by recounting a scene from Charles Schulz’s 1966 classic, It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown:

… an interesting exchange takes place as Linus pens his annual letter to the Great Pumpkin. ‘When are you going to stop believing in something that isn’t true?’ inquires Charlie, to which Linus shoots back, “When you stop believing in that fellow with a red suit and white beard who goes ‘Ho, Ho, Ho’!” Charlie Brown looks at the camera and says dryly, “We are obviously separated by denominational differences.”

Linus’s line is whimsical, but it names something substantial. Denominational differences can feel stark. It’s also an intriguing window into Schulz himself, who grew up nominally Lutheran, then joined a Church of God congregation in Minnesota, later attended a United Methodist Church when he moved to California, and eventually distanced himself from the church altogether. In his later years, Schulz quipped, “I guess you might say I’ve come around to secular humanism” (Good Grief: The Story of Charles M. Schulz).

Reading his story, I can’t help but wonder what prompted those shifts. Were they theological? Personal? How did the pastors of these churches counsel him in these moments? Was he pushed away? There could have been many factors. The relationship between personal convictions, the local church, and denominational affiliation is rarely simple.

I write as a convictional Southern Baptist. I hold a master’s degree from one of our denominational seminaries. I also have a professional doctorate from a seminary that champions its evangelical ecumenism and am now pursuing a PhD at a seminary affiliated with the Anglican Church of Australia (Yes, I am still a Baptist). On Sundays, I happily pastor a Baptist church in North Carolina, where some members come from a range of Protestant evangelical traditions.

Some made the transition because their doctrinal convictions changed. Others made the change because they moved to the area and are drawn by shared convictions or relational connections. And occasionally, someone leaves for the same kinds of reasons.

But then there are those who leave—or contemplate leaving—not because of our preaching or our polity but because they are unsettled by our denominational ties. For some, the concerns are tied to deep wounds or painful past experiences because of how our denomination handled specific issues. Then there are those who consider leaving not because of heresy or scandal but because of disillusionment. They’re weary, ired, or simply drawn to another tradition over secondary issues like the meaning and mode of baptism, or tertiary matters like eschatology. These moments call for more than explanations. They call for pastoral presence, clarity, and patience.

Regardless of one’s tradition, it’s not uncommon for church members to raise concerns about denominational affiliation. Maybe they read something on social media. Maybe they saw a headline from a reputable media outlet. Sometimes the reporting is correct, but the concern is shaped by confusion about how denominations actually function. Sometimes the reporting is flawed—driven by misinterpretation or personal grievance. And sometimes, the concern is both well-informed and warranted.

Part of pastoral leadership involves clarifying the identity and purpose of our denominational structures. The word denomination is derived from the Latin denominare, which means “to name.” In other words, denominations name their distinctives. Doing so is good because it clarifies important convictions and provides shape to missional partnerships. Broadly speaking, evangelical denominations have always emerged at the intersection of conviction and cooperation. They help churches locate themselves within a confessional tradition, providing both theological boundaries and practical alignment.

Denominational structures provide systems for accountability and organization. They create space for shared purpose— missions, benevolence, education. In many ways, they formalize the guidelines for the types of collaborative ministry we see in the New Testament (see Acts 15:1–35; 1 Corinthians 16:1; 2 Corinthians 8:1–7, 19). Today’s structures may vary, but their purpose isn’t new.

So when a member is considering leaving because of denominational affiliation, it may be helpful to outline how that affiliation actually works. How does the broader denominational body relate to the local church body? What kind of authority does the denomination exercise? Does the issue at hand even reach the local level? Sometimes, the issue prompting concern has little bearing on the local body. Other times, it does. In either case, the member may need help seeing the connection clearly.

When possible, the disillusioned could be encouraged to stay and serve as agents of change. Like many other associative bodies, denominations often reflect the old adage “You get out what you put in.” Of course, this varies across Protestant denominations. But in general, I’ve found that many people bring faulty expectations to their understanding of denominations. While there is no perfect church or denomination, I still believe denominations serve a good net purpose.

Beyond clarifying how a denomination functions, it’s vital to understand what’s really behind the concern. Before you meet with a church member on such matters, pray for biblical wisdom and the guidance of the Spirit—it’s essential. James reminds us that if we lack wisdom, we should ask God, “who gives generously” (James 1:5). Wisdom is often what’s needed because the relationship between personal convictions, the local church, and denominational affiliation can be a complicated one.

It also takes patient listening and intentional questions. Proverbs 20:5 says, “The purposes of a person’s heart are deep waters, but one who has insight draws them out.” That’s our aim. Behind every concern is something deeper—maybe fear, maybe frustration, maybe a desire for justice, maybe a genuine theological shift. But we won’t know unless we ask pointed questions.

I’ve found it helpful to put the following questions on the table:

Are you considering leaving because our church or denominational leaders have adopted false doctrine, promoted heretical teachings, or refused to confront those who teach those things?
Are you considering leaving because immoral, unethical, and unbiblical behavior is either ignored or tolerated among the leaders or members of this church or our denomination?
Are your concerns based on biblical conviction or communal conflict?
Are the concerns prompting your consideration of leaving a hasty reaction or a prayerful and informed departure?
Have you thought through the implications of this decision for your faith, your family, and your future?

These questions can open the door to difficult conversations. And sometimes, the answers are hard to hear. That’s why it’s essential to be aware of your disposition. Every member mutters from time to time, but it stings when someone tells you they’re contemplating leaving the church. It’s difficult not to take it personally—even if their reasons stretch beyond the church to the denomination.

As the conversations unfold, it’s helpful to remember Paul’s words to Timothy: “Correct, rebuke and encourage with great patience and teaching” (2 Tim. 4:2). That kind of shepherding should always walk hand in hand with what Paul says in 1 Thessalonians 5:14, “Warn those who are idle and disruptive, encourage the disheartened, help the weak, be patient with everyone.” That last line is easy to overlook, but it matters—patience is to be given to all.

In light of this, I often ask myself: What concerns can I honor and what convictions should I challenge? That question guides how I respond, whether I’m offering counsel, correction, or caution. In the end, we are called to model gracious, wise, nondefensive shepherding—knowing when to listen, when to push back, and when to let go supportively with care.

And if it’s time to let go, I try to remind them that there’s a right way to leave and a wrong way to leave. Hopefully, they’ll be able to speak graciously about how God used the church in their lives, share their reasons with humility and wisdom, and not torch the bridge behind them on the way out. After all, their brothers and sisters in Christ will still be here. As Paul wrote, we are to “make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace” (Eph. 4:3).

Finally, let me offer one suggestion that may be of preventive aid.

On the front end, having a robust membership process allows the church to outline its confessional convictions and denominational distinctions. Joining or parting ways with a local church should never be an easy decision. That’s why, when we interview new members, we ask specific questions to understand the reasoning behind their desire to join our church, especially if they’re coming from a like-minded church in our area.

We’ve also followed an example from other churches and developed a church covenant that outlines the expectations of our members. In many of these covenants, you’ll find a line similar to this: “If we leave this congregation, we will join another gospel-preaching church as soon as possible, where we can carry out the spirit of this covenant and the principles of God’s Word.” A line like this lets prospective members know up front, “If you leave, we are going to follow up with you because we care for your soul.” In a culture shaped by consumeristic individualism, statements like that matter. They create space for clear expectations and accountability.

All this to say, when it comes to Christians and church membership, I am convinced that being clear about doctrinal and denominational distinctives from the outset is just as important as how you shepherd someone when they are deciding whether or not to leave the local church.

I affirm the Nicene Creed, in that “I believe in one holy, catholic and apostolic Church.” But I am also aware that within Protestantism, we have “one Lord, one faith” and many expressions. I agree with Carl Trueman, who once said on a panel discussion, “Thank God for denominations. That means someone somewhere actually believes something!”

We shouldn’t dissolve our differences. We should make them clear. In some instances, those differences are secondary or tertiary in matters of theology or ministry practice. However, there are other cases—when comparing Protestant traditions with Roman Catholics, the Eastern Orthodox Church, Jehovah’s Witnesses, or Mormons—where there is no commonality in matters of biblical authority, the doctrine of God, and salvation. Potential departures in the former category require care and kindness. Potential departures in the latter require us to offer clarity and strong caution.

In the end, when it comes to my like-minded Protestant brothers and sisters, I return to the prayer of Jesus—that Christians “may be one” in their unity on the primary matters of historic orthodoxy (John 17:21).

Matthew Z. Capps serves as lead pastor of Fairview Baptist Church in Apex, NC and as second vice president of the North Carolina Baptists. He is the author of several books, including Drawn by Beauty and Every Member Matters.

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With Student Visas in Limbo, Chinese Ministries Soldier On

Yixiao Ren

Even if incoming classes shrink, a Pittsburgh church sees a plentiful harvest.

Macancy / Unsplash

Eugene Ooi was driving toward Pittsburgh’s university district at dusk in June 2009 when a dazzling sunset brought about an epiphany.

“I started imagining how many [Chinese] students and scholars here must be longing for … a warm and welcoming home away from home.”

A native of Malaysia, Ooi was familiar with the feeling, as he moved to the States at 17 for college. So through his church, Pittsburgh Chinese Church Oakland (PCCO), he started a new small group called Xinjia, or “Home Away from Home,” focused on reaching out to Chinese students at the nearby colleges of Carnegie Mellon University, the University of Pittsburgh, and Duquesne University.

That first year, Home Away from Home saw a remarkable season of growth, “one we haven’t quite experienced again in the same way since,” Ooi noted. Around seven or eight out of every ten newcomers came to faith and many now serve in churches around the world. The Chinese students were hungry for community and interested in learning about Christianity.

“You could say this was God’s reward or confirmation for our decision to fully commit to campus ministry,” he said.

Today, Ooi is still ministering to Chinese international students as the church’s campus minister, yet global trends and geopolitics have changed the church’s ministry. An increase in Chinese students’ economic level has made the church’s practical outreach efforts, such as offering rides or free food, less effective. More students are suspicious or fearful of interacting with Christians in the US as the Chinese government tightens the reins on religion. Students are also more likely to return to work and live in China rather than staying in the US due to challenges securing work visas.

Recently, the Trump administration announced that it planned to “aggressively” revoke visas for Chinese students it believes have “connections to the Chinese Communist Party or studying in critical fields.” In May, the US suspended the process for foreigners to apply for student visas before restarting it a month later, adding the requirement that all applicants set their social media accounts to “public” for government review.

In the midst of the uncertainties, Chinese student ministries like PCCO’s are seeking to adapt.

“If we do make any changes to our approach, it’s not because of politics—it’s because we want to grow, to be renewed in our minds, and to continually seek better ways to connect with students,” Ooi said.

PCCO’s campus fellowship now has six groups spread across the three universities. Many of the Chinese students attending the groups have decided to stay in Pittsburgh this summer instead of returning to China, as they fear they won’t be able to reenter the country, said Situ Junqing, a minister at the fellowship. The government recently deported several Carnegie Mellon students and recent grads after revoking their visas.

“There’s a general feeling of instability, this fear of the unknown,” Situ said.

He noted that many students who come to study in the US face family pressure, as their parents invested a significant amount of money into their education. Students also don’t want to take part in China’s intense work culture, so the thought of returning home is emotionally taxing. “The pressure is intense,” he noted.

Situ sees this as an opportunity to help ground the students’ identities in biblical truth, rather than their careers or their ability to stay in the US. “I do believe these moments offer opportunities to walk with people, help them apply truth to their lives, and pray together,” he said.

Tsun-En Lu of the diaspora Chinese ministry Ambassadors for Christ (AFC) said that although the Trump administration has threatened to revoke Chinese student visas, that doesn’t necessarily mean there will be a large-scale policy shift. US universities, as well as industries like medicine and engineering, need talented Chinese students. “Once some political or interest-based conflicts are resolved, things will return to fundamentals, [as] cooperation is more of a need than competition for both societies,” he said.

Lu, director of AFC’s Discipleship Resource Center, noted that the number of Chinese international students has been dropping in the past decade, a decline the COVID-19 pandemic exacerbated. Yet ambitious Chinese families are still set on sending their children to top-tier schools in the States, and those who do come are often more intentional in their studies and plan to stay long-term, Lu said.

“They carefully choose schools, study diligently, plan their finances, and have a more favorable view of Christianity” and they are curious about American society, he said. “So from a campus ministry perspective, that’s actually good news. … It’s actually easier now to build real relationships.”

Back in Pittsburgh, PCCO conducted an online survey for members of the student ministry to gauge their needs. He found that young professionals, including those with H-1B work visas or green cards, were the most anxious, as they are more inclined to stay in the US, while many undergraduates or graduate students plan to return to China.

Ooi organized talks over the summer to explain to students their constitutional rights if immigration officers were to knock on their doors or ask to speak with them. But the turnout was lower than expected, which he believes signals that the students weren’t very concerned.

Courtesy of Eugene Ooi

Home Away from Home hosting a barbecue and picnic in June 2013.

“I think the pressure might be greater for those who haven’t yet come to the US and don’t know what to expect, whereas those already here have somewhat adjusted to how things are and feel it’s okay,” Ooi said.

While the leaders of the fellowship don’t know how the policy changes will impact the incoming class this fall, they know there will continue to be opportunities to tell new students from China about Jesus, as their mother church has done for nearly a century.

PCCO is a church plant of Pittsburgh Chinese Church, whose origins date back to 1937, when missionary Lizzie Shaw gath ered 13 children in Pittsburgh’s Chinatown for Bible study. Pittsburgh’s steel mills attracted many early Chinese immigrants, then later Chinese students came to attend the city’s universities. Pittsburgh Chinese Church was established in 1967.

Steve Sheng, one of the pastors of PCCO, noted that campus ministry has always been an integral part of their church because of its location. The church leadership want to strengthen the connection between campus fellowships and the local church.

For many Chinese immigrants, college is a pivotal time in their faith journeys. Ooi grew up attending church in Sabah in East Malaysia, and he felt called to go into ministry during a youth conference as a teen. While attending the University of Georgia, he got involved in student ministry and met his wife, Meiru, and together their hearts became burdened for mainland Chinese people.

They thought that meant they would go to missions in China one day, but the couple instead moved to Pittsburgh in 2005 for Ooi’s ophthalmology residency. They began attending PCCO and doing ministry with Chinese international students. Soon they “realized how vast the Chinese harvest field was even in this city,” Ooi said.

Situ and his wife, Yin Shengjun, who are from Shanghai, came to faith through the PCCO fellowship while they were attending grad school. Originally from a Buddhist background, Situ struggled to accept the exclusivity of Christianity after Yin, his then-girlfriend, connected with Meiru and became a believer. Then in 2012, he attended a PCCO retreat where during a prayer session, he felt the Holy Spirit move in him. Crying uncontrollably, he began to understand the gospel.

The Oois mentored the couple, walking with them through a difficult breakup, then witnessing Situ’s genuine growth in faith. “They basically watched us grow, break up, argue, slam doors—I don’t know how many times their doors were slammed,” he said, laughing.

Courtesy of Eugene Ooi

Left to right: Eugene, Situ, Meiru, and Shengjun after serving together at a retreat in 2015.

Seeing the impact college ministry had on their own lives, the couple started mentoring college students while working and raising their four children in Pittsburgh. They believe Chinese student ministry is a vital part of global missions; they are making disciples who go back to China or other parts of the world. “The discipleship is not necessarily for the Pittsburgh church but for God’s global church,” Situ said.

In July, the campus ministry team gathered to discuss new ways to reach students. Situ noted that the changes—both geopolitical and generational—forced them to think and pray about their strategy.

“Of course, God is in control,” Situ said. “We just need to be faithful and think through things both spiritually and rationally. I look at myself and realize that if God had just let us do whatever we wanted, we wouldn’t be here serving today.”

Ooi noted that the new generation of Chinese college students needs more than just biblical teaching—it needs “a new kind of connection.”

Traditionally, Chinese student ministries have reached students by putting on events like Chinese New Year dinners or hosting churchwide evangelistic rallies. But in the past decade, the fellowship leaders have found that students are less likely to attend large events but respond when Christians make an effort to befriend them.

“We must build deep relationships, enter into their lives, understand their academic stress, emotional struggles, and relational conflicts,” he said.

The fellowship follows a “life cycle” based on the school year: welcoming new students in August, focusing on outreach evangelism from September to December, and shifting to discipleship from January to May. The leaders host gatherings in the homes of families who live nearby and weekly meetings in classrooms to increase their physical presence on campus. This year, they plan to participate in more school-sponsored events and organize their own events, such as career talks or mental health workshops, to connect with more students.

As Christianity has grown in China in past few decades years, more students come to the college with background knowledge of Christianity or as Christians themselves. Still, most Chinese students hear the gospel for the first time while studying in the US.

Ooi leverages this change by pairing Chinese Christian students with mentors and encouraging them to take “an active role in leading [the fellowship’s] on-campus activities so they can genuinely feel a sense of belonging.”

Chinese students made up 18 percent of Carnegie Mellon’s student body in 2023, according to the school’s official enrollment data. Ooi noted that even if the Trump administration’s policies mean a couple hundred fewer Chinese students come this year, there are still thousands of Chinese students for Ooi and his team to reach.

Currently many Chinese students are struggling with belonging, Ooi said. “The US doesn’t feel like home, they face unfriendly attitudes, and it’s hard to find work, yet going back to China doesn’t seem like a better opportunity,” he noted.

This is an opening for students to reconsider where their true home lies, Ooi said.

“This may be an opportunity for students to realize there is a third way: It’s not America or China but Jesus Christ,” he said. “So we continue to work, no matter the environment.”

- More from Yixiao Ren

Books

Review

The Book of Psalms Is the Bible’s ‘Little Bible’

Blake Adams

We should read it not as an assortment of poems and songs but as a single rhapsody on God’s covenant promises.

Illustration by Christianity Today / Source Images: Getty, Unsplash

Late in the fourth century, a man named Palladius of Galatia left his home (somewhere in present-day Turkey) and journeyed into the Egyptian desert, intent on meeting the ancient monks we now remember as the Desert Fathers. One afternoon, he realized he had wandered into the middle of a monastic community. Although he didn’t immediately see any of the monks, he could hear them chanting psalms from the mouth of every surrounding cave. Describing the experience decades later in a book, The Lausiac History, he recalled feeling as though “one is high above the world in Paradise.”

This story came to mind as I read Reading the Psalms as Scripture, a short work by James M. Hamilton Jr. (a seminary professor) and Matthew Damico (a pastor). This book is not a commentary, a study guide, a devotional, an overview, or even an introduction to the Psalms, though to varying extents it embodies all these genres. Instead, it boldly ventures to say what the Book of Psalms is and to propose we read it accordingly.

As the book’s title suggests, Hamilton and Damico regard the Psalms as a book of Scripture. This point might appear so basic that it’s barely worth mentioning. But Hamilton and Damico mean at least two things by it.

First, the book of Psalms is a book. It is not merely an assortment of songs, like hymns in a hymnal, but a coherent, unified work of literature that we can read in sequence.

This fact easily escapes us. At a glance, the Psalms have no plain order. They are not arranged chronologically: The oldest (perhaps Psalm 90, attributed to Moses) doesn’t appear first. Psalms were not added to the book as they were written. Nor are they organized by author, theme, subject matter, or genre.

There are certain signs, however, that the arrangement isn’t entirely random. Certain clusters of psalms, such as Psalms 1–2 or Psalms 15–24, have long been recognized as discrete literary units.

Hamilton and Damico perceive a unity not only within these smaller units but also throughout the Psalter. This unity had not been agreed upon before the psalms were composed. The authors hypothesize that “David started this process of organizing the Psalter into an intentionally arranged collection, and … it seems that people who came after David completed it.” In this sense it is possible to “attribute” the Psalter to David, even if he did not author every psalm. In fact, it is possible to think of the Psalter as a single, grand psalm: a rhapsody on God’s covenant promises, full of repeating themes and refrains.

Just as we can miss the forest for the trees, so we might miss the Psalter for the Psalms. The Psalter, however, includes material besides psalms—namely, the superscriptions, small headings included for many purposes. Some name the author (as with those that specify, “Of David”). Some convey liturgical instructions (as with Psalm 22, which begins, “For the director of music: To the tune of ‘The Doe of the Morning’”). Others identify the genre of the psalm (as with Psalm 145, “A psalm of praise”) or indicate the historical context behind its composition (as with Psalm 3, “A psalm of David. When he fled from his son Absalom”). Some superscriptions run to multiple lines, while others employ a single word.

Superscriptions are key textual tools for tracing literary units, large and small, within the Psalter. So are the poetic devices the book highlights, like parallelism or acrostic and chiastic structures. Incorporating them into our reading is the first step toward comprehending the Psalms as a unified Psalter.

The crucial next step is ensuring that King David remains at the center. We need not credit him with composing all 150 psalms, but his personality, vision, and biography are their unifying force. In sum, not every psalm is “of David,” but all are Davidic.

We see this in the basic story line proposed by Hamilton and Damico, which unfolds in five stages, corresponding to what biblical scholars recognize as the five “books” of the Psalter. Book 1 (Pss. 1–41) takes its inspiration from David’s suffering under Saul and other historic foes. Book 2 (42–72), from his reign as king. Book 3 (73–89), from the end of his royal line on earth. Book 4 (90–106), from God’s vow of faithfulness to his covenant with David. And book 5 (107–150), from the promised triumph of the Messiah who would bring about its ultimate fulfillment.

When we comprehend this structure, the authors argue, the Psalter emerges as a prophetic document through and through, “written from a messianic perspective, to sustain and provoke a messianic hope.” Seen this way, the book’s prophetic significance extends beyond a select few “messianic” psalms. Indeed, the entire Psalter is a sustained prophecy concerning the king to whom God pledges himself, despite the nation’s schemes. Here, in poem after poem, song after song, we find the unified theology of the Psalms.

In highlighting the Psalter’s prophetic thrust, Reading the Psalms as Scripture has implications for understanding how the New Testament writers used Old Testament passages. Far and away, they cited the Psalms more than any other Old Testament source. By some estimates, the New Testament quotes or alludes to over 100 of the 150 psalms, with Psalm 110 alone inspiring 22 such mentions. All this suggests that Hamilton and Damico are correct to portray the Psalter as playing a pivotal role in stoking and conceptually framing the messianic expectations that prevailed thereafter.

There is a possible pushback to the way Hamilton and Damico emphasize the Psalter’s overall structure. One Old Testament scholar, David Willgren, has argued that the choice of which Psalms to include should take precedence over their order. After all, not all the psalms of ancient Israel appear in the Psalter, and although ancient editions may differ in how they number the psalms, they agree on which ones belong. Seen this way, the psalms themselves, not their sequencing, are the most stable feature of the Psalter.

But the insights of Hamilton and Damico can complement rather than contradict this perspective. What distinguishes their own perspective is the conviction that we should sing the psalms, not merely interpret them. Their ultimate agenda is elevating the Psalter to a central place in Christian formation and the prophetic identity of the church—the same place it held for the New Testament writers.

The second core claim Hamilton and Damico make builds on their first. If the book of Psalms is a book, it is also a book of Scripture. By this, they do not merely affirm the Psalms’ divine inspiration and authority. They also suggest that the Psalms engage other books of Scripture, just as those books engage each other.

The Psalter stands apart from the rest of Scripture as an anthology of songs and poems. Accordingly, most scholars bring it into conversation with songs and poems from other ancient Near Eastern cultures. While this comparative work is fruitful, Hamilton and Damico emphasize that the key literary backdrop to the Psalter is other earlier Scriptures. Like all the Bible’s books, the Psalter, to invoke a term from biblical scholarship, is intertextual: It exists in conversation with Scriptures written before it. It quotes from them, alludes to them, and interprets them, just as later Old Testament books quote, allude to, and interpret the Psalms.

When we combine the two main ideas Hamilton and Damico advance—reading the Psalms as both a book and a book of Scripture—we arrive at their overarching objective: presenting the Psalter as Christianity’s premier “sourcebook for a faithful conception of who we are and how we ought to live in God’s world.” The authors want the church to embrace the Psalms as one of its primary distinguishing marks, just as ancient monks did by chanting them into the howling wilderness.

By emphasizing the Psalter, the authors hardly mean to exclude the rest of Scripture. As Martin Luther taught, the Psalter “might well be entitled a Little Bible, wherein everything contained in the entire Bible is beautifully and briefly comprehended.” Moreover, as Hamilton and Damico take pains to point out, the Psalter is connected to the rest of Scripture and meant to be read alongside it. Even so, it is a unique microcosm of the entire Bible, elevated in song. Unlike, say, a historical book we can reading and understand, a psalm remains unfinished until it is sung. That is what makes it a psalm.

We cannot read the Psalter in the same way we would read any other book of the Bible. On this, Hamilton and Damico are clear. Memorizing is a good devotional practice for, say, a letter of Paul, a section of a Gospel, or a story from Old Testament history. With the Psalms, however, memorizing and singing is how we actually “read” them. To be sure, Hamilton and Damico don’t wish to exclude all other hymns or spiritual songs from the church’s worship. Yet they acknowledge that the Psalms do something these other songs don’t. Once we understand the Psalter as a messianic text whose ultimate subject is Christ, we can see how it defines the church’s prophetic existence within the world.

Through the Psalms, we can reassert our Christian identity in a secular age. “If we know the ‘little Bible’ inside and out, we are on our way to knowing the whole thing,” write Hamilton and Damico. “And if we know the whole thing, we’ll know what it looks like to love the Lord and walk in wisdom, and we will not be lured by the prevailing narratives and vacuous promises of the world around us.”

In this way, the “little Bible” of the Psalter offers a potentially radical approach to Christian formation. Through it, the church can demonstrate to a watching world that its borders are held by not an army but a choir.

Blake Adams is a writer and editor living in Glen Ellyn, Illinois.

- More from Blake Adams

News

As Nigerian Health Care Crumbles, Patients Seek Alternatives

Emiene Erameh

How Christian hospitals are caring for neglected cataracts and common ailments.

An ophthalmologist examines a man's eye as part of a free medical outreach program in Nigeria.

NurPhoto / Getty

When a friend pointed out a white spot in Onjefu Agbo’s eye, he knew he’d have to pay for treatment himself. Barely able to see out of his left eye, Agbo sought care at several facilities that couldn’t identify the problem before doctors at Meserat Defar Eye Clinic in Ikeja, Lagos state, Nigeria, diagnosed him with an advanced cataract.

They recommended a surgery costing 75,000 naira (about $49 USD). Agbo earned only 15,000 naira (about $10 USD) monthly at the time: “I was at a loss on where to get that kind of money, having spent a lot to get the diagnosis.”

While visiting his parents in Jos, Plateau state, Agbo heard a radio ad about an annual outreach at Vom Christian Hospital offering the procedure for free. He traveled 30 minutes by public transportation to the hospital, where doctors conducted new tests, then removed Agbo’s cataract and implanted an artificial lens.

“Life would have been better if government facilities are as responsive as these faith-based organizations are,” he said.

Agbo was not unusual in finding it hard to get adequate medical attention in Nigeria. Public hospitals in Nigeria bustle like markets, with consulting areas so full waiting people have to stand. A 2022 study showed Nigeria’s emergency hospital bed capacity stood at 0.9 beds per 1,000 people, less than half the global average.

Within the broken infrastructure, less than 5 percent of Nigerians have public health insurance, and 70 percent pay for their health care out-of-pocket. According to the World Health Organization, Nigeria should have 237,000 doctors but only has 35,000 for a population of over 200 million. And like Kenya, Nigeria is hemorrhaging medical staff to emigration.

Christian hospitals and ministries are trying to fill health care gaps. An Evangelical Church of West Africa (ECWA) Evangel hospital in Jos—known locally as Jankwano, meaning “red roof”—offers free surgeries for patients with vesicovaginal fistula—a condition that’s rare among women in developed countries but is a public health concern in developing nations such as Nigeria.

Emmanuel Adewara—the senior pastor of First Baptist Church in Kubwa, Abuja—said his church organizes a medical outreach every July and has a sick bay for treating common ailments such as malaria and typhoid. When Nigerians can’t afford care, Adewara warned, some turn to dangerous practices.

Some turn to cheaper traditional herbal remedies, but without proper dosages they may complicate rather than heal what started as minor ailments. Others turn to pastoral prayer rather than going to the hospital.

“We believe in supernatural healing.” Adewara said. “We believe in divine health. We do all those as a church. But we still have great commitment to orthodox medicine, which we encourage people to do.”

Some Nigerians have also fallen back on faith healers, putting themselves at risk of exploitation. The country has seen several cases of fraudulent pastors bribing people to fake healings during services. Some HIV patients may have died after pastors told them to stop taking antiretroviral drugs.

Meanwhile, the death of former Nigerian president Muhammadu Buhari made headlines beyond usual obituary coverage because of the location of his passing: an elite hospital in the United Kingdom on July 13. The London Clinic—where Buhari died after falling ill during a routine visit—boasts private luxury rooms with dressing gowns and spa products.

All that did not help Buhari. It did help Abdulsalami Abubakar—the former military head of state who helped transition Nigeria from military to democratic rule in 1999—who admitted he once received treatment there. Both clergy and journalists, such as Onjefu Agbo, lamented that public officials and wealthy private citizens seek treatment abroad instead of improving Nigeria’s health care system.

An article in one scholarly journal, Health Policy and Planning, indicated that reforms achieved limited success because “senior politicians did not spend political capital to ensure fundamental institutional reforms.”

Reforms could have helped Adesuwa Osunde last year when a public hospital in Abuja couldn’t finish her three children’s eye and dental exams because there were too many patients.She took them back the next day, but by the time a doctor finished their exams and prescribed the right follow-up tests, the lab had closed for the day.

“These people don’t care about us. If they did, at least they would make hospitals work,” Osunde said. If reforms continue to lag, she worries next time could be worse: “What if there is an emergency?”

- More from Emiene Erameh

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