News

Christians Dodge Drones in Ukraine as Trump Considers Putin’s Maximalist Demands

Kherson pastor says, “Every day is a small story about how God protects and preserves his people.”

A man in Kherson Ukraine rides a bicycle through wreckage from Russian bombs
Christianity Today May 5, 2025
Ivan Antypenko/Suspilne Ukraine/JSC "UA:PBC"/Global Images Ukraine via Getty Images

The southern Ukrainian city of Kherson is one of the country’s most dangerous cities. Russian troops are stationed just across the Dnieper river, and simple errands require Presbyterian pastor Volodymyr Barishnev to do some careful planning before he walks out his front door. 

Each morning, 32-year-old Barishnev checks the city’s Telegram channel for reports of Kremlin drones and shelling. He maps his route accordingly and always brings his drone detector—a small black device that beeps louder when a drone approaches.

“Every day is a big test,” Barishnev told Christianity Today. “Words cannot express how we feel here.” 

Just last month, Russia hit a local sports arena with four glide bombs. The bombing destroyed the sports facility and left one person dead and multiple people injured. The attacks are so frequent, Barishnev said, that silence is unnerving. It makes people feel that Kremlin troops are gearing up for a larger assault.

The people of the region are bracing themselves this week, waiting for something to shift. 

United States secretary of state Marco Rubio said this week is “very critical” for America as it decides how much more effort it will pour into negotiations. Kyiv signed an agreement last week granting the US access to minerals, which may encourage President Donald Trump to feel more invested in Ukraine’s success, stability, and sovereignty. 

Yet if Russian president Vladimir Putin gets his way, the region of Kherson and its capital, also called Kherson, will become part of Russia. Kremlin troops currently occupy 75 percent of the region, and in 2022, Russia officials claimed it as “forever” Russian territory. Putin is currently insisting that a cease-fire deal give Russia not only all the land its soldiers have seized since the invasion but also complete control of four regions it only partly occupies, according to Bloomberg news. 

If America agrees to that maximalist position, things would be bad for Holy Trinity Reformed Presbyterian Church, Barishnev said.

Kremlin forces have shut down churches that are not part of the Russian Orthodox Church and have forced Christian leaders to flee. About a quarter of the 40 members of Barishnev’s congregation continued to meet when Russian troops last occupied his city. But he said many people in the city were seized, detained, and even tortured. The son of a Pentecostal bishop who is a friend of his spent 100 days in captivity. He said the Russians tried to force his friend’s son to speak favorably about the occupation of Kherson. 

About 75 percent of people in Kherson have fled. More might leave if it looks like America will grant Putin’s demands. 

“Members of our church are worried about what is happening, and it’s affecting their health,” Barishnev said. “They are waiting for the victory of Ukraine to come.” 

Victory doesn’t seem to be on the negotiating table, though. The Kremlin is demanding recognition of its 2014 annexation of Crimea, all the current territory it controls, and some it does not. The territorial gains give Moscow access to strategic Black Sea ports, threatening Ukrainian sovereignty over shipping lanes.

Land concessions remain a key sticking point in US-led efforts to negotiate a peace deal, frustrating Trump’s mission to end the war quickly.

The administration’s latest proposal for a peace deal gives Russia a litany of wins: Ukraine agrees not to join NATO, the Kremlin keeps the 20 percent of Ukrainian territory it currently occupies, and the US recognizes Moscow’s sovereignty over Crimea. Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky has rejected it. 

“There is nothing to talk about,” Zelensky said. “This is our territory, the territory of Ukraine.” 

Last month, US special envoy Steve Witkoff told talk show host Tucker Carlson that the Russians are “de facto in control” of the occupied regions and that its residents voted in favor of Russian annexation during a referendum vote. 

But both claims are false, Barishnev noted. Ukrainian forces freed the city and about a quarter of the region. He remembers the celebrations in the streets as Russian troops retreated. 

People voted in a referendum in September 2022, but Western observers recognized it as a “sham.” Barishnev said voting took place after most of the region’s residents had fled and Russian troops with machine guns “went from apartment to apartment and sat on the street near the markets,” intimidating people to vote in favor of Russian annexation.

Even if a negotiated deal were to freeze Russian gains along the current frontlines, some population centers in Ukraine would remain dangerously close to Russian firing lines. Kyiv wants assurances that Putin won’t rearm and continue its land grabs as it did in the wake of the 2014–2015 cease-fire agreement

Barishnev said a second Russian occupation of his region would be disastrous for his city’s residents. More people would probably flee. He’s not sure what would be left of his church if they did—or if they didn’t, and tried to continue worshiping under Russian occupation. 

But continuing as they are now, living, working, and praying in a war zone, also feels impossible. 

“Psychologically you just can’t do anything,” Barishnev said. “It’s hard to explain what’s going on inside. … You just want to drop everything and run away somewhere.” 

He points to Isaiah 6:8 as the reason he decided to stay, enduring months of Russian occupation and years of deadly assaults on his city. Like Isaiah, he said he heard God asking, Whom will I send? Who will go for us? He committed to serve as a shepherd in this city.  

He tries not to dwell on the drones, glide bombs, and constant shelling, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult to avoid them. He hears the drone detector he always carries beeping. There have been so many close calls, like the time he made a quick stop on the way to the train station and got there just after an attack that killed 23 people. 

“It was a real miracle from God we were late,” Barishnev said. “Every day is a small story about how God protects and preserves his people.”

News
Wire Story

Houston Megachurch Sued After Pastoral Transition Without Vote

Current and former members claim Second Baptist deceptively changed its bylaws so Ed Young’s son could succeed him.

Brick building lit up at night with sign saying Second Baptist Church and a cross
Christianity Today May 5, 2025
Loren Elliott / AFP via Getty Images

A lawsuit alleges Second Baptist Church in Houston unlawfully changed its governing documents to eliminate the congregation’s power to vote on virtually everything, including budgets and the selection of a senior pastor.

One reason for changing the church’s bylaws and articles of incorporation, the suit claims, was “to secure the ascendance” of Ben Young, son of longtime pastor Ed Young Sr., to the senior pastorate. Ed Young Sr. is a former SBC president, and Second Baptist is among the convention’s largest cooperating churches with more than 90,000 members across six campuses.

“The represented and ostensible purpose for these amendments was to clarify the church’s beliefs, and to reinforce its stance on social issues such as marriage and family, in response to the ‘woke agenda,’” states the suit, filed last month in a Harris County, Texas, court by a group of current and former church members known as the Jeremiah Counsel Corporation.

“However, the true objective for the amendments was to radically alter Second Baptist’s long-observed democratic governance processes—and to eliminate the congregants’ voice in church matters in its entirety.”

Second Baptist sent the following statement to Baptist Press: “Our leadership and legal team are aware of the lawsuit and will respond appropriately.”

The case aligns with a trend of congregationally-governed churches in various denominations “contemplating—and in many cases adopting through revised bylaws—structures that consolidate the decision-making power to fewer individuals, such as a group of elders or the board of directors,” according to an article by Erika Cole, a Washington-area attorney specializing in churches and faith-based organizations. Shifting governance structures has led to “a corresponding increase in litigation,” she wrote for the website Church Law & Tax.

Among Southern Baptists, any move away from congregational church government could stir a discussion of biblical church polity. The SBC’s confession of faith, The Baptist Faith and Message, states in Article VI, “Each congregation operates under the Lordship of Christ through democratic processes.”

The suit against Second Baptist concedes that a vote was taken in May 2023 on the new bylaws. But it claims proper procedures were not followed leading up to the vote and that notice of the meeting where the vote occurred was “legally insufficient.”

Church committees did not conduct required reviews of the then-proposed bylaws before the vote, according to the suit, and “the purported notices advising recipients of the May 31 meeting were intentionally misleading by omitting material facts about the impact these radical changes would have on church governance.”

The lawsuit further alleges that notices of the meeting “were also deceptive in that they were intended to minimize the number of members who would become aware of the meeting.” Most of the approximately 200 people attending the meeting allegedly “were never provided a copy of the proposed Amended Bylaws or the proposed Amendments to the Articles of Incorporation.”

At the meeting, attendees were told “that the purpose of the ‘updates’” was “not to effect any change in governance of the church,” the suit claims.

Second Baptist’s former bylaws called for church votes on various matters, including adoption of an annual budget and selection of a senior pastor. Those and other decisions now are made by a Ministry Leadership Team comprising “the Senior Pastor, and those individuals appointed by the Senior Pastor,” the new bylaws state, adding, “Members are not entitled to vote in person, by proxy or otherwise.”

The changes were driven, the suit alleges, by church leaders’ “dual motives of controlling Pastor succession and seizing control of church finances.”

The suit asks a court to declare that the church must revert to the previous bylaws.

Cole told Baptist Press governance structures and leadership succession “comes up quite a bit” in legal cases and likely will arise increasingly in years to come.

“We know that the leadership of the church is an aging population,” she said. “There are fewer people going into ministry and more church leaders reaching a traditional retirement age. I expect that areas and challenges around succession will continue to increase.”

When changing governance structures, Cole said, churches should exercise caution and transparency. Rules for amendments stated in previous bylaws are not the only relevant standards for bylaw changes, she said. State laws, IRS requirements and state and federal case law may dictate that some types of bylaw changes are impermissible.

Though courts tend not to adjudicate spiritual or theological conflicts, they may rule against churches when bylaw changes are unlawful, Cole said. “We have many cases to point to showing courts may interpret whether the bylaws have been properly followed.”

The legal name of the case involving Second Baptist is Jeremiah Counsel Corporation v. Ben Young, Homer Edwin Young, et al.

Ideas

AI Porn Is Covetousness

AI-generated pornography promises to meet all our sexual desires—but only adds to our pervasive violation of the tenth commandment.

Woman's face with a loading symbol over it
Christianity Today May 5, 2025
Illustration by Christianity Today / Source Images: Getty, Unsplash

The artificial intelligence revolution is well underway. Along the cutting edge, tragically but predictably, is pornography produced through generative artificial intelligence.

AI porn is in its early days, but it is exploding in prevalence, popularity, and sophistication. As Christians, we need to consider where this might lead us.

At this stage, all the problems of “ordinary” pornography attend AI porn as well. It assaults the imago Dei by violating people’s autonomy, by treating them as objects for consumption, and by subjecting them to unwarranted shame and guilt.

Those most injured are generally girls and women and celebrities who are “undressed” through AI and cast in deepfake pornography, among other horrors.

One need no longer be filmed to be subjected to the degradation of revenge porn: AI can turn anyone into an unwilling porn actor in simulations that are “always available and can never die.” The problem has grown serious enough to prompt bipartisan legislation backed by First Lady Melania Trump and passed near unanimously by both houses of Congress.

Meanwhile, some companies like OpenAI are suggesting that the path to “ethical” porn goes through generative AI. If all porn were produced this way, the thought goes, no one would be harmed in making it. Porn users could get what they want without the human costs.

No Christian, so far as I can tell, has joined this chorus. Nevertheless, the allure of AI porn makes plain a largely ignored mechanism that makes pornography so devastating, whether AI-generated or not. Its consumption fuels and is fueled by pervasive violation of the tenth commandment: “You shall not covet” (Ex. 20:17, ESV throughout).

In particular, AI porn amplifies the reciprocal dynamic between the sin of covetousness and porn—because covetousness is a kind of fantasy. When we covet, we project ourselves into alternative worlds that revolve around our own desires.

Augustine, in a homily on Matthew 5, cautions us not to “unfold the lap of covetousness, whereby you would at present possess the earth, to the exclusion even of your neighbour by whatever means; let no such imagination deceive you.” The earth is the Lord’s (Ps. 24:1), not our own, and what the Lord has given to our neighbor is in our neighbor’s trust. Covetousness rejects this order in favor of a world of our own making.

In this way, covetousness is the interaction between pride, which is a rejection of our rightful place in relation to God, and our own desires. “Pride is simply turning away from the immutable good [that is, God], and covetousness turning toward a transitory good,” Thomas Aquinas writes in On Evil. “And one sin is constituted by these two turnings … since every sin is a turning away from the immutable good and a turning toward a transitory good.”

As Aquinas implies, we rarely covet what we imagine is God’s immutably good life. The fantasy world of our covetousness is often the world that we imagine to be our transitory neighbor’s.

Your neighbor’s ox never tires. His donkey takes direction. Her home doesn’t have your home’s plumbing problems. His friends are more encouraging and generous. Her body never aches. His children are better behaved, more successful, smarter, and kinder.

The world we covet is a fantastical world. This is its appeal.

In his letter to the Roman church, Paul publicly wrestles with the relationship between law, sin, temptation, and freedom in Christ. In the middle of his letter, he confesses to the Roman Christians his sin of violating the tenth commandment when he writes,

Yet if it had not been for the law, I would not have known sin. For I would not have known what it is to covet if the law had not said, “You shall not covet.” But sin, seizing an opportunity through the commandment, produced in me all kinds of covetousness. (7:7–8)

In Exodus 20, the tenth commandment is accompanied by a prohibitive list (don’t covet our neighbor’s house, wife, male or female servant, ox or donkey) that culminates in a generalization: Do not covet anything that is your neighbor’s.

Paul’s comment about “all kinds of covetousness” in Romans 7 is thus key. Covetousness cannot be contained. It is a kind of toxin, a drop of which poisons the whole well.

When we covet seemingly benign things like our neighbor’s living room decor, our neighbor’s social media following, our neighbor’s car or vacation or phone, we invite covetousness to envelope other areas of life. Our sin is like Paul’s: When we give the fantasy of covetousness an inch, it takes the whole world.

This is especially true when it comes to the sexual realm. Fantasy lands are aggressively imperial, and they will overwhelm the borders of our sexuality. Pornography promises to be a place where everything goes your way, for your fulfillment. No matter your sexual fantasy, the lie goes, porn can deliver. And AI porn only makes this fantasy more tailored to individual proclivities.

In the throes of sexual fantasy, AI porn may appear to be stable ground, but it is a tempestuous sea driven by an embrace of a covetous way of life—a riptide that pulls us underwater and far from shore, into the sunless depths.

Sexual covetousness drives other forms of covetousness too. As we organize our sexuality more closely around our personal whims, tailored to our own desires, the rest of the world grows less enticing; less worth pursuing, engaging, and exploring; less worth loving. We recede all the more into the fantastical world of our increasingly covetous hearts.

The irony is that in this process, we lose what we love, and indeed what we need. Our real life becomes all the more dissatisfying, not only because it seems to pale next to our fantasies but also because it grows more distant from us. This makes the fantasy world of our covetous hearts still more enticing compared to the real. And so the cycle continues.

Part of what it means to be the imago Dei is that we are embodied souls, psychosomatic entities whose bodies are intertwined with our spirits. The covetousness of pornography is dehumanizing because it encourages a disembodied view of life detached from real relationships.

Pornography therefore poses a profound spiritual problem that cannot be spliced from physical, emotional, and intellectual mechanisms. In the end, we become not only wretches but isolated, lonely wretches.

So while this problem is not merely spiritual, it is spiritual. Pornography shackles us within a place where God’s light no longer appeals. This is a fate worse than unmet desire, worse even than death. It is—literally—hell.

The fantasy world is ultimately a world of idolatry, where the idols one worships are one’s own sexual desires. This should come as no surprise, for as Paul explicitly tells the Colossians, covetousness is idolatry (3:5).

What one worships shapes one’s entire life. The first commandment—“You shall have no other gods before me”—flows into the other nine. But equally, the tenth flows back to the first, connecting covetousness back not only to idolatry but also to Sabbath, adultery, murder, and so on.

In On the Spirit and the Letter, Augustine writes that the apostle Paul in Romans 7 chose the tenth commandment “as a general maxim, and included everything in it. … For there is no sin which is not committed through desire.”

Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount similarly connects lust to adultery and hatred to murder. But what is lust except coveted adultery, and hatred except coveted murder? The turn into the heart represented in the tenth commandment can be read back through the other nine.

If covetousness is at the heart of sin, then its solution must be at the heart of our formation. The solution to covetousness—and our guard against AI porn—is simple to state but difficult to implement.

The solution is gratitude. To inhabit a fantasy is to reject God and his creation for a world of our making. Gratitude rejects this fantasy through both confession and repentance.

A grateful heart, in naming what it has received, is compelled by love to confess its past ingratitude and to turn anew toward God. Conscious gratitude, in other words, is the shape of ongoing confession and repentance from covetousness.

We must be grateful to God for our lives, relationships, and communities, for opportunities and dangers, for vocations and obligations and constraints, for the large and small gifts and kindnesses of everyday life and extraordinary experience.

Gratitude flows from being united with Christ through the indwelling of the Spirit. Thus united, we can begin to see our sexuality not through the haze of our fleshly desires but through the lens of the gospel.

The frustration of singleness can become an opportunity for Christ-honoring freedom (1 Cor. 7:1–7). A sexless marriage due to strife, illness, or age can be a season to grow in grace, to serve a suffering loved one, or to find new ways to love and be loved. In this way, gratitude becomes an expression of our trust in the will of God in a particular moment.

Paul understands this role of gratitude in putting covetousness to death when, at the end of Romans 7, he bursts into a hymn of hopeful woe, even praise: “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (vv. 24–25).

In the grateful embrace of this reality and all the other gifts God has given us, we are delivered from the trench of covetousness into God’s light. There, we find a world and a love that are real.

The fantasy world of covetousness—now made manifest through the potential of AI porn—promises to satisfy our shallow desires. But it fails us. We are left thirstier than ever.

The love of God is fantastical in the opposite sense. We may not get what we want in the moment, but we are guaranteed what we most deeply need forever. Indeed, we will receive far more than we can ask or imagine.

Timothy Pickavance is a professor of philosophy at Talbot School of Theology at Biola University and a ruling elder and scholar in residence at Redeemer Presbyterian Church in Newport Beach, California. He is the author of three books, most recently Knowledge for the Love of God: Why Your Heart Needs Your Mind, and publishes regularly on his Substack, Becoming Human.

News

‘I Watched My Life Burn’

How a gig worker in Togo pushes back against disaster, with Christian help.

Street scene with motor scooters in Lome, Togo.

Lome, Togo

Christianity Today May 5, 2025
Wolfgang Kaehler / Getty

The first crackling sound came like the snap of dry wood. Then came the flames—wild orange tongues licking the old Toyota Corolla’s hood, dancing with the dusty African wind. Komlan Ametepe’s car, the one thing standing between his family and despair, was gone in minutes.

“I watched my life burn,” Ametepe said.

Ametepe had worked as a driver for over ten years. He knew every shortcut in Lomé, Togo, every pothole, every unwritten rule. Just days before the fire, he had spent his last savings—roughly $500—on repairs. A faulty secondhand battery likely caused the fire. He had car insurance, but it didn’t cover fire damage. He couldn’t afford comprehensive coverage after COVID-19 wiped out his savings.

Around the world, gig workers like Ametepe face the same harsh reality: no insurance, no safety net, and no backup plan. According to the International Labour Organization (ILO), 2 billion workers—61.2 percent of the world’s employed population—work informally, most without social protection or income security. In such fragile terrain, one fire, one illness, one policy shift can erase years of effort.

For Ametepe, the Corolla wasn’t just a vehicle. It was his job, his children’s school fees, his wife Ana’s tomato-selling capital, and his family’s hope for something better. When it burned, everything changed. On some days, he borrowed a friend’s motorcycle to make deliveries. On others, he walked for hours in the heat, looking for transport gigs.

In Togo, over 90 percent of the workforce is informal, according to Women in Informal Employment Globalizing & Organizing (WIEGO) data from 2022. Many have no social safety net. When life breaks down, they are left to fend for themselves.

Togo’s insurance system remains underdeveloped, and microinsurance only reaches a small portion of workers. The government hoped to alleviate economic pressures on informal workers by tasking agencies such as FNFI (Fonds National de la Finance Inclusive) with expanding access to microcredit and insurance for small entrepreneurs and low-income households. But for many, access remains difficult.

FNFI products often require documentation, bank accounts, and participation in group-loan models managed by intermediaries. The loan amounts are small—often between 30,000 and 100,000 CFA francs ($50–$170 USD). They help, but the deadlines for repayment can be rigid. Grace periods are minimal. And defaulting even once can block future access.

“I went to the FNFI office twice,” said Agbégnon Edo, a shoe repairman from Adétikopé, Togo. “They asked for my national ID, voter card, and proof of a group leader. I left with nothing.”

After the fire destroyed his livelihood, Ametepe pulled away from church. “Why has God allowed this to happen to me?” he asked. He said his brother pressed further: “Where was your God?”

Ametepe grieved the loss not just of the car but of purpose, provision, and presence. He didn’t have enough collateral to get a loan.

But Ana didn’t give up. “God has not finished with us,” Ametepe remembered her telling him. Slowly, they returned to prayer. They began asking God not just for bread but for breakthrough.

Dignity, Ametepe said, means having the means to provide. To stand tall in front of his children. To work and not beg.

As state solutions have proved inconsistent, churches and Christian organizations have stepped in to restore dignity.

The Assemblies of God Church of Togo’s licensed microfinance institution (COOPEC-AD) and the Church of Pentecost’s similar institution (COOPEC Solidarité) have helped congregants, businesses, and church-based projects since the 1990s. But over time these institutions have limited their impact by adopting policies similar to traditional banks: requiring a three-month savings history, a registered property document as collateral, and guarantors to back the loan.

That’s where informal savings groups—long embedded in African communal life—have become vital again. Known as tontines, these member-led groups allow individuals to save and lend money on rotating schedules. Most operate on trust, not paperwork.

Christian development organizations have built on this tradition. The US-based Chalmers Center helps churches form and guide savings groups that offer instruction in budgeting, recordkeeping, and accountability. Each savings group decides how much to save weekly, and members contribute small amounts—as little as 1,000 CFA ($1.70 USD). After three to six months of saving, groups distribute loans among members, then share or reinvest interest earnings.

Those same values of practical solidarity reached Ametepe.

About six months after the fire, a Christian acquaintance from his drivers’ cooperative offered to help him apply for a microloan to buy a tricycle for deliveries.

Then, another Christian—someone Ametepe had helped years ago—offered something more: a taxi car through a work-and-pay system. Ametepe would drive, earn, and slowly repay the full cost until he owned it outright.

Today, Ametepe is driving again. He’s up before dawn, ferrying passengers across Lomé, carefully tracking each repayment. With every kilometer, he moves closer to owning the vehicle and reclaiming stability for his family.

“God didn’t forget me,” he says. “He just had another road for me to take.”

These days, that road begins as Ametepe slides into the driver’s seat, turns the key, and waits for the familiar rattle as the trembling engine finds its rhythm. A low hum rises as the fuel catches, and Ametepe pulls onto the dirt road while the city yawns awake behind him. At home, his children are still sleeping. This road, this work, is their provision.

It wasn’t the government, the microloan institutions, or even the savings groups that helped him. For Ametepe, the road back ran through Christians who saw, who remembered, who acted.

For others still standing in the ashes, that same road might run through us.

Ideas

How to Do Redemptive Welfare Reform

Warm feelings about nice-sounding programs aren’t enough. Genuinely transformative efforts are long, slow, and local.

A street level map with pieces made of money and photos of poor neighborhoods
Christianity Today May 5, 2025
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: Unsplash

President Donald Trump’s governing style is chaotic, confusing, and abrupt. Compared to past presidents’ methods, his may be different more in degree than in kind, as the executive branch has become increasingly powerful, complex, and slow to fix problems. But one bright spot, easily missed in the recent hodgepodge of executive orders from the White House, is that some of Trump’s reforms are grounded in—or at least unwittingly resonant with—the reality of how poverty fighting actually works.

While some Christian commentators lament cuts to the USAID budget, for example, international economists and social scientists have long critiqued (here and here and here) the failures and even harms of humanitarian international aid. This model was due for reassessment long before Trump’s first administration, let alone his second. Unfortunately, White House adviser Elon Musk’s sledgehammer approach has obscured such legitimate concerns by suggesting that cuts are about nothing more than reducing the federal deficit.

The truth is that USAID makes up about 0.3 percent of the federal budget. Pre-Trump, substantive critiques of USAID came from the political left as much as the right and, alongside concerns about high costs and disincentivizing work, have included accusations of neocolonialism, harm to local economies, and aid to corrupt dictators in recipient countries. The danger in simplistic “USAID bad” rhetoric from the White House is that Trump’s critics will merely respond with “USAID good.” What about “USAID improved”?

A similar dynamic may happen with domestic social programs too. America’s antipoverty interventions tend to entail invasive micromanagement of the personal lives of the poor. These programs often discourage decisions that lead to long-term wealth-building, and a disturbingly high percentage of their budgets go to middle-class bureaucrats rather than program recipients. 

As federal programs are cut, many Christians lament the loss of support to the poor, the widow, the fatherless, and the stranger. There is a good and biblical impulse here, but a totalizing lament could serve to defend government-funded efforts with the same sledgehammer approach DOGE is using to attack them. Just like foreign aid, domestic aid deserves scrutiny and reform that deals in reality, not quick political “victories.” We need careful distinctions between helpful and unhelpful programs to guide meaningful reform.  

This is not a partisan argument. While critiques of the welfare trap might ring conservative in our ears, many on the left are just as incensed at the way the system is set up, even if they’re more sanguine about broadening social safety nets. For example, both right and left critique benefits cliffs, which make smart moves like work, promotion, and marriage economically irrational. (Picture getting a small raise at work, only to find out that you just exceeded the low-income requirement for an important benefit such as food stamps or childcare. Suddenly, your small raise turns into a massive pay cut, and it makes more sense to quit or sabotage the job than to keep plugging away at it.)

Benefits cliffs are what economists call a perverse incentive or moral hazard, because they incentivize short-term decisions that undermine long-term advancement. This critique is ubiquitous, but we simply have not managed to backpedal out of our current system and prevent this dynamic in US social spending, even though experts have suggested various ingenious schemes. A safety net should be just that—something to fall back on in desperate times—not a net that entraps people and keeps them dependent. Solving this long-standing problem would actually be a good use of DOGE.

Unfortunately, private antipoverty efforts often have similar problems. There are unique concerns with state projects, but concerns about private charities’ spending to address domestic poverty are also growing. Free-market conservatives insist that civil society institutions can offer the relationships, networks, and moral formation that make a genuine difference in poverty, especially in an American context where social connection is the hinge on which one’s economic prospects often turn. That sounds very sensible, but oddly, this model often isn’t often what we see. 

Conservatives need to be reading great works like Bob Woodson’s Lessons From the Least of These and Bob Lupton’s Toxic Charity. These books outline how destabilized neighborhoods require investment in grassroots leaders from the neighborhoods themselves. Grassroots leaders have the local knowledge, personal investment, and credibility to do what no outsider could possibly accomplish. They need to be supported by those who have greater access to resources and networks. Woodson and Lupton have been widely praised, but in practice Americans still send charitable dollars to a lot of the same old models that don’t really work. 

Going forward, Trump or no Trump, public or private, focus on the local is vital. Warm feelings about nice-sounding programs aren’t enough. Genuinely transformative efforts are long, slow, and local. Those with middle-class backgrounds and college educations are not more capable than the men or women from the block when it comes to rebuilding poor neighborhoods.

This bewildering political moment might be an opportunity for us as Americans to recalibrate how we dream of stabilizing our most struggling neighborhoods, both at home and abroad. But we must determine not to be deceived by partisan politics or defensiveness about the charitable efforts many of us have supported till now. Those distractions will keep us from making a redemptive turn. 

Rachel Ferguson is director of the Free Enterprise Center at Concordia University Chicago, coauthor of Black Liberation Through the Marketplace, and affiliate scholar at the Acton Institute.

Books

Meet Five Filipino Christian Children’s Authors 

They’re writing books on parasitic worms, parental expectations, and wrongful convictions.

Collage on green background of Filipino author's and books and leaves.
Christianity Today May 2, 2025
Illustration by Abigail Erickson / Source images: Getty, OMF

During the COVID-19 pandemic, Filipino publishers saw a sharp decline in their sales. In 2020, the industry in the Philippines lost more than half its revenue as physical bookstores closed and people lost their jobs and disposable income. E-books are not common in the country; a 2024 survey found that 74 percent of readers prefer printed books over other types of reading including magazines, newspapers, and e-books.

OMF Literature, one of the largest Christian publishers in the country, also felt the impact of the pandemic on its sales, said Myrna Reyes, former head of publication and current publishing consultant at OMF Lit. As a result, they have licensed fewer books from the US.

Yet one bright spot Reyes sees is Hiyas (Gem), OMF Lit’s children’s book imprint, as more Filipino Christians are writing and illustrating original books. Before the pandemic, children’s books contributed about 15 percent to total company sales, according to OMF Lit. This fiscal year, its contribution is estimated to be slightly over 70 percent. While not all the children’s books are explicitly Christian, “our priority is sharing Christian values through our stories,” Reyes said.

Christianity Today spoke with five Filipino children’s book authors about the challenges and blessings of writing for the next generation.

Luis Gatmaitan

With colorful drawings and emotive characters, most of Luis Gatmaitan’s books explore the human body, drawing from his expertise as a pediatrician.

For instance, the 2021 book Covidoom! follows the battle inside a boy named Jonas between  the evil coronavirus and his antibodies, which are anthropomorphized as soldiers on a battlefield. Written in both English and Filipino, the book is aimed at five-to-seven-year-olds.

“I want children to see that the God who made us is amazing,” he said.

Gatmaitan, who has written more than 40 storybooks, said he seeks to promote health literacy among Filipino children, where undernutrition is rampant. Books in the series Mga Kwento ni Tito Dok (The Stories of Uncle Doc) explain what happens when a child is bitten by a dog, gets lice, and contracts leptospirosis, a bacterial disease, from floodwater. He noted that children’s books from the West aren’t equipped to address issues in the Global South.

“I want Filipino children to see that they have a face in the world,” he said.

One woman shared with Gatmaitan that when her child read Ayan na si Bolet Bulate! (Here Comes Bolet Worm!), a story about how parasitic worms can enter the body when one is barefoot and has long fingernails, he asked her to cut his nails for him. Gatmaitan’s works highlight the intricacies of creation and teach kids how to care for their bodies well.

In 2005, the Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards inducted Gatmaitan into its hall of fame after he won five Palanca Awards, the highest literary honor in the Philippines.

Jacqueline Franquelli

Jacqueline Franquelli won third place in the Palanca Awards in 2019 for her children’s book Anak ng Tinapay (The Bread Baker’s Daughter).

With bright, warm scenes set inside a bakery and an extensive glossary of Filipino breads, the story follows a baker and his daughter, Niña, who wants to follow in his footsteps to bake bread. Yet her father discourages her, telling her to instead pursue a profession that would guarantee her a better life. The story resonates with Filipinos, as it explores family dynamics and parents’ concerns about their children’s economic well-being.

Franquelli said she was inspired to write another book, Alin? Alin? Ang Daming Damdamin! (This or That? I Feel a Whole Lot), after spending time with her nephew. “I want to show children, especially young boys, the importance of recognizing their God-given emotions,” she said.

After college Franquelli worked in Manila at the Museo Pambata children’s museum, where she was exposed to children’s literature through her job’s reading campaigns. Afterward, she became a freelance writer and teacher at a Catholic seminary in Manila.

Today, she writes children’s stories in between grading her students’ papers. The publishing process has taught Franquelli patience because of the long wait time between writing a story, letting the illustrator work on its visuals, and putting the book into the world. “Waiting is a faith-strengthening exercise,” she said.

Despite the long delays, she said Hebrews 11:1 (“Faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see”) keeps her hopeful in the face of rejection and encourages her as she waits.

Maloi Malibiran-Salumbides

Maloi Malibiran-Salumbides’ journey into children’s literature is also a story of faith. Best known for the radio show Protips, which teaches Christians how to live out their faith in the workplace, Malibiran-Salumbides still recalls the sting she felt as publishers rejected many of her early stories.

Then, in 2019 she attended a workshop with leading publishers. Hiyas picked her story idea Tinola ni Nanay (Mother’s Chicken Soup) and agreed to find an illustrator and publish her book. The story follows a young boy who prepares a dish for his incarcerated mother. Readers learn she is serving time for a crime she didn’t commit.

After the book was published, Malibiran-Salumbides remembers reading it to a group of children in the city of Batangas. When she asked her audience why they thought the mom was in prison, they responded, “She was a bad person.”

It was an opportunity for Malibiran-Salumbides to explain to kids that not all the people in prison have committed crimes. It was also a chance to teach Christian values like honoring parents and visiting someone in prison.

“You cannot manipulate kids,” she said, noting that adults often talk down to children instead of explaining complex topics through stories. Malibiran-Salumbides said the image she has in her mind when she writes stories for kids is Jesus humbly inviting the little children to come to him. “We need to be children ourselves and see the world through their eyes.”

Grace Chong

Grace Chong sees the task of making abstract concepts understandable to younger readers as a ministry. A retired executive vice president at an advertising agency, she has written more than 40 children’s books. “It’s not for honor or readership,” she said. “It’s for the Lord.”

Half and Half in the Oh Mateo! series is a story about a farmer’s son, Teo, who shares fruits with his father. “It helps the church talk to children about sharing their blessings” rather than hoarding them, she said.

In the books in the series, which are written in English with parallel Filipino text, Teo meets a balikbayan girl (an overseas Filipino returning to the Philippines), a fruit-eating dog, and crying children. Despite their differences, Teo loves them well because of his love for God, and he sets an example for other kids to do the same.

“My advocacy is for kids to love reading,” Chong said, noting that today many kids grow up scrolling on their smartphones rather than reading books. According to a 2022 study by the World Bank, nine out of ten Filipino ten-year-olds struggle to read simple text.

Chong received feedback from parents who said her books have turned their children into book lovers: “Thank you for giving us tools to teach values to our children.”

Jojie Wong

Meanwhile, Jojie Wong wants to help the church talk to children about missions, so she wrote abridged illustrated biographies of China missionaries J. Hudson Taylor and Eric Liddell, which are distributed by the OMF mission agency internationally. Wong focuses on how God was with these missionaries and how he helped them overcome their trials.

In the future, she also wants to profile Filipino missionaries who have made an impact on their country.

One time, a Christian preschool invited Wong to speak about loving people from different religious backgrounds. She struggled to find material for her presentation, so she ended up writing the book Peter and Ahmed about a friendship between two boys, one Christian and one Muslim.

“Christians stay inside our own cultural bubble to the point where we don’t interact with people from different backgrounds,” she said. She hopes her books help kids learn not to discriminate but instead to see the inherent value of people as God made them.

Wong first heard the gospel story as a preschooler, so she finds value in sharing God’s love with kids early on.

“A seed was planted in me as a child, and later on I realized who God is,” she said. “We need to take the opportunity for seeds of the gospel to be planted among other children.”

Additional reporting by Angela Lu Fulton

Culture

American Idol’s ‘Songs of Faith’ Wasn’t a ‘Night of Praise’

But the Easter special was a reminder of how the church influences mainstream music.

Carrie Underwood and Luke Bryan singing on American Idol
Christianity Today May 2, 2025
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: Youtube

When I was 18, my mom drove my younger sister and me to Kansas City in our family Suburban for American Idol open auditions. I sang “Mercy” by Duffy for a panel of barely interested producers. (I later learned it was a pretty popular audition song.) My sister sang the song “Plain” by contemporary Christian girl-group Zoegirl.

At the time, American Idol was in its eighth season, and it was the singular singing competition in the burgeoning world of American reality television. Millions of viewers tuned in every week to watch cringeworthy auditions, showstopping virtuoso performances, and of course, Simon Cowell’s unfiltered cruelty.

The show is now in its 23rd season, and it’s been getting a lot of attention from Christians this year. There have been viral videos of spontaneous worship sessions. A performance of Brandon Lake’s worship song “Gratitude” drew attention online when Idol artist-in-residence Jelly Roll called the songwriter over FaceTime so he could compliment the singers. Carrie Underwood, the newest judge on the panel, has made Christian music a part of her brand—she released a Southern gospel album in 2021 and regularly performed the hymn “How Great Thou Art” as part of her Vegas residency set.

Earlier this year, when Idol announced that it would be airing a three-hour “Songs of Faith” special on Easter Sunday, some celebrated the move as a sign of a major sea change in the entertainment industry.

“Pop culture is experiencing a spiritual revival, and it’s hard to deny: Jesus is back at the forefront of mainstream entertainment,” wrote Logan Sekulow of CCM Magazine, citing the popularity of the show The Chosen and the faith-based film The King of Kings as corroborative examples.

“There’s a clear appetite for faith-driven content,” wrote Sekulow. “But perhaps nowhere is this revival more evident than on the American Idol stage.”

One viral Instagram post remarked that “A lot has changed in the last year. … ABC is straight up having a Christian concert on national television.” Another celebrated: “American Idol had a three-hour worship service last night that was streamed nationwide. You can’t make this stuff up. America is in revival! 🔥”

Some of these viewers may be interpreting “Songs of Faith” in light of national politics. The Trump administration has promised to “eradicate anti-Christian bias” and “bring back religion” in the US; evangelical leaders and outlets have said that the president is committed to defending Christianity. Social media posts also show worship services at the White House.

But reading the American Idol takes, I wondered how many people posting in praise of the special actually watched the whole thing.

“Songs of Faith” showcased songs this season’s contestants find personally meaningful—but only about half the selections were explicitly religious. Josh King delivered a heartfelt cover of Joe Cocker’s “You Are So Beautiful,” dedicated to his mother. Amanda Barise sang Alicia Keys’s “If I Ain’t Got You,” and Olivier Bergeron performed Rihanna’s “Stay.” Simon & Garfunkel’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water” made an appearance, as did “Soulshine” by the Allman Brothers Band and “Silver Springs” by Fleetwood Mac. Desmond Rogers high-fived the crowd from the stage as he performed Jon Batiste’s “Worship,” which is not a religious song but a tribute to the formative power of family and community.

There were religious songs too. Thunderstorm Artis, acoustic guitar in hand, sang Cory Asbury’s worship hit “Reckless Love.” American Idol judge and country artist Luke Bryan said the performance felt like a “big Christian rock concert.” After delivering her rendition of Coldplay’s “Yellow,” contestant Drew Ryn told the judges she had chosen the song because it “sounded like a conversation with the Lord.”

During his introduction, host Ryan Seacrest welcomed viewers to the “place where stars always rise,” with “Happy Easter” splashed on the giant screens behind him; he referred to the show as a “night of praise.” After a stirring performance of “Amazing Grace,” R & B legend and American Idol judge Lionel Richie offered a quip: “Who knew that for this Easter celebration we were going to create the church of American Idol?”

Contestant performances alternated with cameos by the judges and special guests like The Brown Four, a quartet of four children whose tight harmonies and virtuosic gospel singing went viral last year. Luke Bryan sang “Jesus ’Bout My Kids,” a song about praying for his children as they grow older. Jelly Roll and guest Brandon Lake belted and growled their new single “Hard Fought  Hallelujah.” Gospel legend CeCe Winans made a repeat appearance (she performed the song “Goodness of God” during last season’s finale) with former contestant Roman Collins, singing “Come Jesus Come.”

Carrie Underwood, draped in a gauzy white gown and flanked by background singers in front of projections of swirling clouds and sunlight breaking through, closed the night with “How Great Thou Art.” Gold confetti fell onto the stage and crowd at the end (gold dust adjacent, perhaps?).

Was “Songs of Faith” a “night of praise”? Not really. But that’s a good thing. A night of required expressions of faith from singers vying for a pop music career wouldn’t be something to celebrate. (Tabloids reported that the show’s crew was divided over the special’s overt religiosity.)

While it might be fun to hear familiar worship songs on network TV, “Songs of Faith” is best understood as another case study in the influence of Christianity on American music—not as a sign of religious revival.

As a child of the ’90s, I’ve seen multiple iterations of evangelical hype around Christian crossover artists and artworks. I remember the excitement around Amy Grant, the contemporary Christian music star who seemed to have the talent and likeability to make Christian music cool to mainstream listeners. In 1998, The Prince of Egypt grossed $218.6 million worldwide. Was it a sign that audiences were hungry for more faith-based films? After Rick Warren’s book The Purpose Driven Life was published by Zondervan in 2002, it remained on the New York Times bestseller list for almost two years. Warren landed appearances on Oprah Winfrey’s talk show. Was that a sign that widespread spiritual awakening was coming?

I’m skeptical of seeing pop culture as either a bellwether or a lagging indicator of spiritual health. I say this as someone who takes the study of popular culture and media very seriously. We can learn a lot about the world around us by looking closely at the entertainment we engage with and consume.

Performances of Hillsong’s “Oceans” on cable may not reliably tell us anything about the religious fervor of American audiences. But they do remind us that the American church is a powerful influence in American musical life.

Some of the most recognizable and influential voices in America’s musical landscape were molded by years of singing gospel music, hymnody, and contemporary worship music. Aretha Franklin, Elvis Presley, Beyoncé, and Justin Timberlake all started developing their voices in church. In the American music industry, the boundary between secular and sacred is almost nonexistent, and musicians outside the Christian niche borrow language, repertoire, and style from church music.

It follows that Christian music has made appearances on American Idol for years. Season 5 contestant Mandisa performed the song “Shackles.” Season 8 contestant Chris Sligh sang DC Talk’s “Wanna Be Loved.” During season 7, the top six contestants performed the worship megahit “Shout to the Lord” by Hillsong worship leader Darlene Zschech. (The performance drew criticism because the lyrics were later changed from “my Jesus, my Savior” to “my shepherd, my savior.”)  

And American Idol isn’t the only network reality show that frequently features Christian music. During season 15 of NBC’s singing competition, The Voice, singers performed “Oceans,” Tasha Cobbs’s “Break Every Chain,” and MercyMe’s “I Can Only Imagine.” Multiple worship leaders have made it past the show’s blind auditions, foregrounding their faith in their biographies.

“Songs of Faith” isn’t the anomaly some online cheerleaders have made it out to be. It’s another example of the entertainment industry’s recognition that there’s a market for Christian music. Many of the country’s best musicians get their start singing in church; gospel in particular is an ideal genre for gifted vocalists to showcase their agility, power, and emotive sensibilities. Over the past five years or so, a new crop of Christian artists has proven that faith-based music is continuing to attract young listeners. The larger industry is paying attention to these trends.

But recognizing that something is profitable or marketable is not the same thing as recognizing that it is good, beautiful, or true. Use is not necessarily synonymous with respect. Media that positively portrays Christian faith has always coexisted with media that pokes at it, subverts it, or glorifies value systems that are antithetical to the example of Christ. The pornography industry isn’t losing any steam; sports gambling is growing fast. The entertainment industry simultaneously feeds appetites for feel-good, inspirational programming and addiction-stoking content.

Put simply, it’s unwise to interpret public acknowledgements of Christian holidays as indicators of revival. (Think of Christmas!)

So is there any reason to celebrate that American Idol seems to be featuring Christian music more, or more reverently, than usual? Perhaps. If you, as a viewer, feel seen, affirmed, or encouraged by “Songs of Faith” or by hearing a worship song you know and love on a show like The Voice, that’s understandable. Isn’t that just a version of “representation matters”?

In a pluralistic country, seeing Christianity treated with respect in our media feels good. It makes us feel that we belong, that we have a place, and that those outside our in-group see something winsome in our beliefs and practices. I tend to think that panic about anti-Christian bias in media is overblown. (After all, it’s more often the prudishness or hypocrisy of flawed Christians than something like the doctrine of the Holy Spirit that’s the butt of jokes.) But I can also understand the relief that comes from seeing our faith elevated rather than sent up.

Two things are true: Many of America’s most celebrated vocalists honed their craft in church, and American Idol is, above all else, a singing competition. Network executives know that the show simply will not capture the broadest-possible audience by emphasizing religion too much. But they also know that 62 percent of American adults identify as Christians. In the case of the “Songs of Faith” special, they made the calculation that a broadly spiritual acknowledgement of Easter couldn’t hurt and, at best, might draw new viewers.

The healthiest Christian response to pop culture moments like this one is to enjoy them—if that’s the kind of thing you enjoy. No revival prognostications necessary.

Kelsey Kramer McGinnis is the worship correspondent for Christianity Today.

News

Died: Samuel Escobar, Who Saw Evangelism and Social Action as Inseparable

The Peruvian theologian wasn’t afraid to debate Marxists or challenge the church.

samuel-escobar-portrait
Christianity Today May 1, 2025
Ruth Padilla / Edits by CT

Samuel Escobar, a Peruvian pastor and theologian whose passion for social justice and evangelization resulted in a new field in missiology died on April 29 in Valencia, Spain. He was 90.

In 1970, Escobar and fellow Latin American theologians René Padilla, Orlando Costas, and Pedro Arana coined the term misión integral to refer to a theological vision that sees evangelism and social justice as inseparable components of Christian life. They saw this principle as a way to apply the evangelical faith to the injustices they saw, highlighting that care for the poor was at the center of Jesus’ message.

At the inaugural Lausanne Congress in 1974, Escobar gave a plenary address to more than 2,000 Christian leaders from 150 countries, arguing that the church had a responsibility to address the poverty and deprivation affecting its most vulnerable members. 

“The way of Christ is that of service,” he said in a speech that quoted Matthew 20:27 (“Whoever wants to be first must be your slave”) and John 20:21 (“As the Father has sent me, I am sending you”).

Escobar was born in Arequipa, a city in southern Peru, in 1934. His parents became Protestants shortly before they had him, despite the fact that the country was almost entirely Catholic. Escobar’s father was a police officer, and when he and his wife separated, their son went to live with her. Escobar attended a missionary-run primary school and later was one of only two Protestants among 500 students at his public high school in Arequipa. 

A young man who “devoured books and wrote poems,” Escobar entered the school of arts and literature at the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos in Lima in 1951. That same year, American Southern Baptist missionary M. David Oates baptized Escobar at the Iglesia Bautista Ebenezer de Miraflores in Lima. Later, from 1979 to 1984, Escobar served as the church’s pastor. In 1958, he married Lily Artola, whom he had met at church. 

After graduating with a degree in pedagogy in 1957, Escobar began serving as the Latin American traveling secretary with the International Fellowship of Evangelical Students (IFES). As part of this work, Escobar engaged young people who had been heavily influenced by leftist ideology, which had spread across Latin America since the Russian Revolution in 1917 and gained renewed strength after the Cuban Revolution in 1959. 

“Marxism was a powerful ideology on campuses, and extreme poverty, military dictatorships, and oppression of the poor made its message relevant,” he wrote

Escobar often visited Latin American universities, giving lectures on evangelism and missions before opening up the space for questions. 

“Marxists would come, not only to refute me, but also to use the occasion for proclamation of their message,” he said. “Evangelical students were surprised that it was possible to debate the Marxists and present the Gospel as a valid alternative.” 

In 1967, Escobar published Diálogo Entre Cristo y Marx (Dialogue Between Christ and Marx), a compilation of these lectures. At an evangelistic campaign later that year, the event organizers distributed 10,000 copies to attendees.

Despite the hunger for dialogue, “in the evangelical atmosphere in which I grew up in Peru in the 1950s, a distinctive mark of a bona fide Evangelical was that he or she did not believe in or practice dialogue,” Escobar wrote

Nevertheless, Escobar “studied hard and prepared himself to speak to Marxist students in a way that made sense to them, with a concern that was both social and evangelistic,” said Brazilian theologian Valdir Steuernagel, who met Escobar while a student in Argentina in 1972.

“Engaging in dialogue with others about the path that led them to Christ can be a valuable first step in understanding how we can be a help—and not a hindrance—on the journey of many others to whom Christ wants to reach,” Escobar later wrote in his book Evangelizar Hoy (Evangelize Today). 

As Escobar connected with students, his country was in the midst of significant change. Peru was under a period of political unrest, with coups d’état in 1962 and 1968. 

The country was also in the middle of significant internal migration. In 1950, 59 percent of all Peruvians lived in the Andes mountains (today the same amount of the population lives on the coast) on land largely owned by a small number of elites. Tired of poverty and oppression, many peasants began moving to coastal cities, where they suffered in slums, enduring exploitation they had tried to escape. 

Witnessing this, Escobar and his Latin American counterparts—Padilla, Costas, and Arana—developed misión integral, their way of contextualizing their evangelical faith to the injustices they saw. (The four men also founded Fraternidad Teológica Latinoamericana, an organization which continues to promote contextualized Latin American theology.) The new convictions also drew on liberation theology, which Peruvian priest Gustavo Gutiérrez had developed as a Catholic response to the suffering he had observed. 

In their keynotes at Lausanne 1974, Padilla and Escobar introduced the global church to their conviction that evangelism and social action went hand in hand. In response, many conservative church leaders labeled integral mission as Marxist or leftist. Harold Lindsell, one of the founding members of Fuller Theological Seminary, wrote for Christianity Today that “Escobar seemed to be saying that socialism is preferable to capitalism and that many Latin Americans espouse Marxism because of its emphasis on justice.” 

Escobar never embraced Marxism. But his decision to teach his Christian students how to fight Marxist ideas with the Bible and theology disturbed even his IFES colleagues, who did not understand why he would be open to dialogue with these groups. 

Escobar also realized that his passion for political discussions didn’t resonate with everyone and that the wave of Marxism among students would not last forever. While giving a lecture in Mexico in 1973, Escobar listened as a student said his generation had rejected changing the world via Marxist formulas and instead was turning to hallucinogens. “What does Christ have to say about this?” he asked. Startled, Escobar shared Jesus’ promise of abundant life and explained to him the futility of religious experience without faith in Christ.

Escobar stayed attuned to his local context no matter his geography. Escobar moved, late in his life, to Spain. After observing the Catholic church’s decline and the rise of postmodernism, he applauded when a local ministry published an illustrated edition of the Book of Ecclesiastes as an evangelistic tool.

“A change in methodology will not be enough. What is required is a change of spirit that consists of recovering the priorities of the person of Jesus himself,” he wrote in 1999 in Tiempo de Misión: América Latina y la Misión Cristiana Hoy. The titles of some of his works communicated his belief in the constant need for change, including the 1995 book Evangelizar Hoy (Evangelize Today), the 1982 article “Qué Significa Ser Evangélico Hoy” (What It Means to Be an Evangelical Today), or the 2016 article “Mission Fields on the Move.”

“During the twentieth century the word missionary in Peru was reserved for blond-haired, blue-eyed British or American Christians who had crossed the sea to bring the gospel to the mysterious land of the Incas,” he wrote in 2003 in A Time for Mission: The Challenge for Global Christianity. “Today there is a growing number of Peruvian mestizos—dark-eyed, brown-skinned, mixed-race Latin Americans—sent as missionaries to the vast highlands and jungles of Peru as well as to Europe, Africa and Asia.”

Escobar was always looking to bring “answers to the political, economic, and social realities of his context,” said Ruth Padilla DeBorst, theologian and daughter of Escobar’s close friend René Padilla. 

Yet Escobar’s ideas of misión integral continue to shape Lausanne’s current work—and spark debate

“He demonstrated that our faith is not a faith that alienates itself, that hides itself, that refuses to talk,” said Steuernagel. “On the contrary, he used every opportunity to share his testimony. And he did so with grace and steadfastness, something so important in these polarized and angry times.”

Escobar served as honorary president of IFES and the president of American Society of Missiology and lived in Peru, Argentina, Brazil, Canada, the United States, and Spain. In Canada, he served as general director of InterVarsity Christian Fellowship for that country. In the US, he taught at Calvin College from 1983 to 1985 and at Eastern Baptist Theological Seminary in Philadelphia as successor to his old friend Costas from 1985 until 2005.

In 2001, the American Baptist Churches USA’s missions arm asked Escobar to help the local denomination in Spain grow its theological education program. For the next four years, he split time between Eastern Seminary and Valencia, where his daughter, also named Lily, was living. 

In 2004, Lily, his wife, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and Escobar and his daughter became her primary caretakers until she died in 2015. Escobar is survived by his daughter, Lily, his son, Alejandro, and three grandchildren. 

Primera Iglesia Evangélica Bautista de Valencia, where Escobar worshiped, will host his memorial service on Friday, May 2.

News

How ICE Deleted International Students at Christian Colleges

The Trump administration terminated the legal status of students at eight evangelical schools, then reversed itself, then warned it may eliminate more.

Student orientation

International students at orientation at Campbellsville University in Kentucky

Christianity Today May 1, 2025
Courtesy of Campbellsville University

Peter Thomas, who oversees international education at Campbellsville University, got the text at 6:19 in the morning.

“Check your records.” It was from a colleague at the University of Louisville.

So before sunrise on Friday, April 25, Thomas rushed to his computer and logged in to the Student and Exchange Visitor Information System, or SEVIS, a government immigration database that records the visa status of international students in the United States. He scanned the list of names at Campbellsville, a Baptist school in central Kentucky.

Weeks earlier, authorities had “terminated” more than ten of his international students from the system with little explanation, ending their ability to study or remain in the country legally.

Friday morning, Thomas saw that at least three had been returned to active status. Over the course of the day, more names flipped back to legal standing, as if coming back from a sort of academic death. “Everybody’s being made whole,” Thomas thought at the time, though it was not quite so simple.

Campbellsville is one of more than 290 colleges and universities that have been swept up in the Trump administration’s crackdown on immigration, with thousands of international students unexpectedly losing their visa status, only to see it resurrected in the past week.

At least eight evangelical schools have reported student records being deleted from SEVIS: Oklahoma Christian University lost two; Baylor University, three; Concordia University Wisconsin, ten. More than 60 students at evangelical institutions have been impacted, according to data from the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities (CCCU), though many small private colleges did not disclose their cancellations.

The disappearances began in March as the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) embarked on a series of high-profile arrests of international students—some for expressing pro-Palestine views on campus and some for reasons unknown. At the same time, it began quietly canceling the legal status of at least 1,800 students. In some cases, the government now says, it was not revoking visas; it was only deleting the digital link between the students’ visas and their schools. The move erased student authorizations to study, effectively forcing them to stop and to consider leaving the country.

The deletions, however, seemed to have nothing to do with political activism. In some cases, students had previously committed crimes such as underage drinking. In others, they may have had minor traffic violations that had been dismissed. In many instances, the government offered no reasoning for the terminations. A federal judge called them “arbitrary and capricious.”

In court hearings this week, the government revealed that it had combed an FBI database for thousands of international student names without thoroughly vetting them. At Campbellsville, where roughly 30 percent of the student body comes from abroad, one student appeared to have had his SEVIS record terminated because he filed a police report after being robbed, according to Thomas. “It just doesn’t make sense,” he said.

In the ensuing chaos, affected students filed dozens of lawsuits to preserve their status—including a group of recent Indian graduates of Concordia University, St. Paul, whose terminations forced them to abandon internships at IT companies.

After a month, the mounting pile of court injunctions made the government blink: On April 25, the same morning Thomas was watching his students’ academic careers being returned to rights, a Justice Department lawyer in Washington, DC, explained to a federal judge that DHS was working on a new system for reviewing international students; it would reinstate deleted records until the work was finished.

“There was a sigh of relief,” CCCU president David Hoag told CT. “That sent a signal that maybe the government was still working through the process, and then they realized, wow, maybe they didn’t have everything together and they’re going to have to modify their approach on the issue.”

But Hoag said the sense of relief is temporary. The administration has warned that it may still terminate the status of students it has reinstated and that it may still target students for deportation. And not all students have been restored.

“Records are getting corrected, but not consistently,” Thomas said. Reversing the terminations is a tedious process for both the government and schools, and for some students, administrators must manually request corrections to the database.

That adds one more burden for Christian schools that do not have dedicated staff members watching SEVIS records and managing international students, Hoag said. Sudden changes may get overlooked and remedies delayed, especially as schools juggle end-of-semester grading and graduations.

The visa-status whiplash has upended life for many students. Some have reported leaving the country or going into hiding to avoid deportation. Others sat out classes during the busiest stretch of the academic year. One student at Campbellsville, a woman from a farming community in rural India, said her family took out a $3,000 loan to hire a lawyer to fight her termination.

“It was very painful for her,” said Thomas, who is proud of his school’s large international student population. He’s grateful that the terminations have stopped for now. But “there’s some harm that won’t be reversed. I sure hope that things can get better.”

The campaign against international students comes at a time of record-high international enrollments at US colleges and universities. Foreign students are a significant source of revenue for many small schools, in particular. Colleges worry that the government actions could keep those students away, as it did during the first Trump administration.

“We may have a blip on the screen on our international enrollments this next year,” Hoag said. “With all these changes, the US doesn’t look as friendly.”

Even on campuses where no one lost visa status, the uncertainty has left students and staff on edge. Multiple colleges and seminaries declined to comment for this story and asked that their international students not be interviewed. One university president told CT his school had not been impacted at all, then requested nonetheless that his school not be named.

No SEVIS records have been terminated at Asbury Theological Seminary, which enrolls roughly 80 international students at its campus in Wilmore, Kentucky, an hour and half from Campbellsville. But registrar Allan Varghese still checks the database nearly every day.

A couple of weeks ago, someone stopped Varghese in the dining hall and said, “I heard ICE is talking with somebody.” A faculty member also emailed Varghese, mentioning that ICE was questioning someone. Did Varghese know who? Varghese went straight to the database, confirmed that no students were missing, and told everyone it was probably just a rumor.

At least twice, he said, his international students received phone calls from scammers warning that they had violated the terms of their visas and offering to help resolve their immigration cases. Varghese reassured them with a little gallows humor. “If ICE needs to find somebody,” he joked, “they’ll come to your door.”

Still, the registrar, a native of India, said many of the seminary’s international students are unshaken by the administration’s antagonism toward immigrants. Some are doctoral students, further along in their careers. Some overcame impossible bureaucratic and financial hurdles to study in America. Some come from countries where Christians live under authoritarian governments; they feel they know how to avoid the scrutiny of strongman leaders.

“They are used to that kind of rhetoric,” Varghese said. “Some of them didn’t think this would happen here. But at the same time, they were like, ‘What do you expect?’”

Varghese meets regularly with international students, praying and putting on workshops to help them navigate the struggles of studying in a foreign land. He encourages them with the story of Ruth, the Moabite widow and immigrant. “Just to remind everybody that ultimately God is who brought you here, and for a reason and a task, and let’s not forget that,” he said.

Then Varghese interrupted himself. “We are not going to put that out as an official email or anything.” The wrong person could take even the mention of a biblical heroine and somehow use it against you, he said.

“That’s the risky part of these things.”

Andy Olsen is senior features writer at Christianity Today.

Ideas

The Man Who Taught Us Orphan Care

Charles Loring Brace revolutionized America’s understanding and treatment of poor children—and he did it all for Christ.

Charles Loring Brace in New York City with orphans.
Christianity Today May 1, 2025
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: New York Public Library, WikiMedia Commons

In October 1849, a young seminary student in New York City rowed across the East River to preach. Charles Loring Brace had been charged to speak to terminally ill young women who resided at a charity hospital on Blackwell’s Island, a two-mile strip of land nestled between Manhattan and Queens.

Now known as Roosevelt Island, it once housed “undesirables” in institutions including a lunatic asylum, two almshouses, a charity hospital with a children’s ward, and a penitentiary. Brace knew many of the women he preached to were dying from venereal diseases contracted after they were driven into prostitution and shunned by society. Weeping as he spoke of Jesus’ love, Brace visited others on the island after his sermon and ministered to them as well.

This visit and others like it deeply affected Brace, inspiring him to dedicate his ministry to helping New York City’s most vulnerable. And nearly 200 years later, systems he created to care for orphans and the poorest of the poor are still in use. Brace founded the still-operating Children’s Aid Society, which was the nation’s first home for runaways, and he helped pioneer the Orphan Train movement and America’s foster care system. A minister, journalist, abolitionist, and author of nine books, he was inspired by his devotion to Christ to pursue a lifelong work to uplift those struggling in a rapidly changing America.

To understand the significance of Brace’s life and legacy, it’s important to have some sense of 1850s America. At the beginning of the decade, the nation’s 23 million people were spread across 30 states, with most people still living on farms. Yet industrialization, rising immigration, and the slavery debate were reshaping the country. 

Between 1815 and 1860, over 5 million immigrants arrived. New York City’s population surged from 60,000 in 1800 to over 1 million by 1860, sparking an unprecedented rise in poverty and crime. Overcrowded, unsafe housing and dangerous, unregulated jobs left tens of thousands living and working in inhumane conditions.

Life for poor children was especially harsh. Many were orphaned by illness, work, or the Civil War. Even poor children whose parents were alive often lived apart from them: Parents who became unemployed or otherwise unable to care for their children commonly “parked” them in orphanages or almshouses until they could afford to bring them back home. Child labor was also rampant, with one in eight children under 15 working in 1870, rising to one in five by 1900. Worst off were the 3,000 homeless children begging in New York City’s streets.

In his memoir, The Dangerous Classes of New York, Brace described the conditions faced by many children he encountered:

Parents drink, and abuse their little ones, and they float away on the currents of the street; step-mothers or step-fathers drive out, by neglect and ill-treatment, their sons from home. Thousands are the children of poor foreigners, who have permitted them to grow up without school, education, or religion.

The plight of New York’s poor children was a stark contrast to Brace’s own upbringing. Born in 1826 in Litchfield, Connecticut, he was the second of four children in a privileged family that included prominent ministers, abolitionists, judges, and lawyers. His mother was related to Harriet Beecher Stowe, author of Uncle Tom’s Cabin.

Brace’s father, a teacher at a prominent girls’ school, assigned essays on topics like “the difference between the natural and the moral sublime,” well afield from the era’s typical focus on domestic arts and elocution as suitable knowledge for girls. When Charles was seven, the family moved to Hartford, Connecticut, and attended North Congregational Church, led by theologian and civic leader Horace Bushnell, whose influence left a lasting mark on Brace.

After graduating at the top of his class from Yale Divinity School in 1848, Brace continued his studies at Union Theological Seminary in New York City. It was there that he committed his life to helping impoverished children. He created programs for “street Arabs”—as they were called at the time—and advocated for laws limiting child labor and keeping children out of almshouses for adults. He also won an award for his efforts to stop the exploitation of children brought from Italy in the infamous padrone system to work as beggars and street performers on the city’s streets.

In 1853, at 27, Brace cofounded the Children’s Aid Society (CAS). It would focus on improving children’s lives through initiatives like a summer home for girls, a sanitarium for sick babies, and CAS’s own probation department upon the founding of the first juvenile court. CAS laid the foundation for the US child welfare system, which was a revolutionary model for child protection in its day.

The next year, Brace opened the first runaway shelter, the Newsboys’ Lodging House, which also educated its residents. He went on to establish additional homes for boys and girls but became increasingly aware that he couldn’t pay enough employees or build enough group homes to care for all the vulnerable and needy children in the city. Instead, he began making plans to send children outside New York to give them a chance to flourish.

Brace’s Emigration Plan, now typically called the Orphan Train movement, began in 1854 and continued for 75 years. An estimated 105,000 children were routed to families outside of New York City in hopes of a better life—one shaped by farm work, small-town communities, family bonds, and Christian values. CAS required families to care for, educate, and treat the children as their own, though the agreement was informal and could be terminated at any time. 

The program was hailed as a success in its era, credited not just with uplifting the circumstances of cast-off kids but even with reducing crime in New York City. Many of the children did thrive—even excelled. Some became state governors, and one was a Supreme Court justice. Today, an estimated 3 million people are descendants of Orphan Train children. 

Many people view the Orphan Train more skeptically today, and for some, its shortcomings overshadow its successes. Receiving families weren’t adequately screened, and oversight was often lax. Some children were abused by their new families. Siblings were separated, and some children ended up in worse conditions than ones from which they were “rescued.” In hindsight, it’s clear that Brace placed far too much faith in strangers’ ability to care for the children he relocated.

From our vantage, the entire concept may seem appalling, but in the days of child labor and crowded tenements, this kind of uniform solution to child welfare seemed appropriate. In theory and sometimes in practice, it was a clear advance over the failures of institutional care for orphans Brace had seen in places like Blackwell’s Island. As scholar Stephen O’Connor speculates in his book on the Orphan Trains, Brace’s plan “may have succeeded as well as could reasonably be expected.” 

But Brace’s legacy is bigger than any one program. When he began his work in New York, the prevailing attitude was that the poor deserved harsh treatment. Their conditions were typically seen as divine punishment for laziness or other sins. Almshouses and orphanages were strict yet poorly run, and they notoriously underfed their charges.

Inspired by Bushnell’s sermons on spiritual development, Brace argued that we should not judge the poor for their destitution but treat them with kindness, dignity, and respect:

As Christian men, we cannot look upon this great multitude of unhappy, deserted, and degraded boys and girls without feeling our responsibility to God for them. We remember that they have the same capacities, the same need of kind and good influences, and the same immortality as the little ones in our own homes. We bear in mind that One died for them, even as for the children of the rich and happy.

In fact, Brace called Jesus the “greatest reformer of all time” and criticized New York’s materialism and American “anemic” spirituality. As an abolitionist, he castigated the church for allowing slavery. Above all, Brace was a man of action. “Quite simply,” writes Karen M. Staller in her history of CAS, “Brace saw the life of Jesus Christ as a model for his vision of missionary work. He wanted to travel among the poor embodying Christian values and inspiring others through deeds rather than words.”

More than a century after his death, Brace’s influence continues. He changed how Americans, particularly American Christians, think about their duty to care for children in need, both theologically and practically in emphasizing family care over institutionalization. But more than anything, beyond all his policies and programs, Brace wanted the children he served to know Jesus as their Savior.

Don’t think Jesus would only “trouble himself” about the “very rich, or very learned,” he told them. “Your soul is just as much to Him, as the soul of the richest boy on Fifth Avenue. … He knows all the trials you have had, all your lonely times, all your troubles at home, all your hunger and cold and poverty: when your little brothers and sisters were crying for food and you could not get it, He heard it; when your father or your mother became worse in their habits every day and you could not stop it … He saw it all and felt it all.”

Christina Ray Stanton is a New York City–based writer and licensed NYC tour guide since 1995. She has written over 30 articles about 9/11, and her 2019 book about 9/11 won two prestigious awards.

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