By Ashley Berryhill
What the American Church Must Hear from the Global Body of Christ
“If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.” —1 Corinthians 12:26
This summer at the Baptist World Alliance Congress in Australia, I sat shoulder to shoulder with leaders from Syria, Indonesia, Nigeria, Rwanda, and beyond. These were not high-profile speakers or celebrity pastors. They were everyday shepherds and servants—faithful in hard places, often at great cost. Their faith was not shaped by ease, but by adversity shaped by war, displacement, and threat.
As they shared stories shaped by persecution, political pressure, and scarcity, I was struck again by the gift the American Church has been given—freedom, resources, opportunity. But I was also struck by what we often lack: depth formed through suffering, joy in the midst of injustice, and a fierce dependence on Jesus alone.
While we build programs and polish our platforms, they hold onto their convictions at great personal cost. We seek influence; they seek faithfulness. We talk about revival; they live with resurrection hope in the face of suffering—often in the shadow of suffering we can barely imagine.
In the American Church, we sometimes claim persecution when cultural shifts make us uncomfortable or when Christian influence is no longer centered in society. But losing status or facing criticism is not the same as true suffering. Being pushed to the margins is not persecution—it is a moment of reckoning, a chance to decide what really matters.
Around the world, people are being imprisoned, attacked, and driven from their homes simply for practicing their faith. And yet—they stay. They serve. They speak with clarity and compassion.
We must stop confusing discomfort with oppression. Real persecution is happening. And those who endure it are showing us what it means to live grounded, courageous, and faithful—no matter the cost.
And yet, despite all they carry, they do not speak with bitterness. What they offer is a deeply rooted, hard-won hope—shaped by suffering and sustained by something greater than fear. It is the kind of faith that stirs you to your core—the kind that reminds you Jesus is still worth everything.
The Global Church is Not Silent
At the Congress, I heard story after story that bore witness to a resilient, Spirit-empowered faith. A woman from Damascus shared how, after a devastating earthquake and during a time of humanitarian blockade, Syrian churches turned to the story of the loaves and fishes (Matthew 14:13-21). Believing that God could multiply what they surrendered, the church adopted a posture of faith-in-action: if someone had two shirts, they kept one and gave the other away. It was simple, sacrificial, and deeply symbolic. Scarcity gave way to abundance—and miracles followed.
An Indonesian pastor shared his story of standing for justice during a time of political violence and religious unrest. He spoke out on behalf of people from other faiths and ethnicities who were being targeted with violence. His advocacy came at a cost. It placed his entire family in danger. At one point, his wife’s life was at risk.
But in the midst of that threat, their Muslim neighbors stepped in to protect her. With courage and compassion, they chose solidarity over silence—risking their own safety to protect someone whose faith and background were different from their own, moved by the pastor’s example.
After multiple other stories, a common thread weaved throughout. Their lives remind us of what we so easily forget: true spiritual depth is not built in comfort, but in costly faithfulness. In contrast to our abundance, their endurance reveals what it means to rely fully on Christ. Their stories do not just inspire us—they expose what we are missing. They point us toward the kind of discipleship we are called to, and the kind of Church we are meant to become.
The American Church Must Listen
The American Church has freedom—but when that freedom is hoarded, it can harden into apathy, especially toward the suffering of others. And even when we do feel something, sympathy alone is not enough. The persecuted Church is not asking for our pity. They are inviting us into something deeper: solidarity—shared courage, shared burden, shared witness.
This kind of solidarity begins with listening—not just to loud voices, but to faithful ones. And often, the most faithful voices are the quietest. Their quiet strength exposes a lie we have too often believed: that visibility equals faithfulness. But some of the most faithful voices in the global Church are the least amplified. Heaven hears them. And we must, too.
And listening is only the beginning. What we hear should shape what we believe—and how we act. Our theology compels us to believe in the imago Dei—that every person is made in God’s image (Genesis 1:27) and is worthy of dignity, conscience, and belief. When that dignity is violated— through imprisonment, violence, or repression—the Gospel calls us to speak up (Hebrews 13:3).
Our Baptist heritage compels us further. The doctrine of soul freedom affirms that every individual must be free to respond to God without coercion (Romans 14:5, Galatians 5:1). The principle of local church autonomy insists that each community of faith is responsible before God for its witness, even under pressure. The priesthood of all believers calls us to shared responsibility and spiritual solidarity (1 Peter 2:9). These convictions are vital to our understanding of mission and justice.
Jesus taught us to pray, “Your kingdom come…on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10). This kingdom is not a distant hope or a delayed promise—it is a present reality. We are not waiting for heaven to rescue us from the world; we are joining Jesus in restoring what is broken right here and now. The stories from the persecuted Church do not reflect resignation but resurrection power. They show us what it looks like when heaven breaks in through ordinary people who trust God in impossible situations.
An Urgent Call from the Global Church
One of the most pressing realities I heard came from 21Wilberforce, the religious freedom and justice advocacy arm of the Baptist World Alliance. At the Congress, they were inundated with requests from majority world pastors and church leaders: Teach us how to advocate. Help us engage our governments. Do not let our suffering go unheard.
Persecution is rising for many parts of the world where believers face pressure from hostile governments, systemic discrimination, and unstable political environments. My friend and colleague Wissam al-Saliby leads 21Wilberforce with deep resolve and wisdom, advocating not only at the United Nations, but also with national governments and through quiet mediation efforts around the world. This work is about protecting people made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). It is Gospel-shaped justice for a Church that refuses to abandon her persecuted family. But the demand exceeds the funding.
This is why advocacy is not optional. It is not a trend, and it is certainly not about being ‘woke’—it is about being awake to what matters to God. Advocacy is the outworking of love, justice, and solidarity. At BWA, we signed a global covenant together. We joined with leaders from Lebanon, Nigeria, Ukraine, and multiple other nations—some of whom serve in regions where macro-level geopolitics fuel instability, and where Christian faith is often martyred in the shadows of global indifference. We committed to defend dignity, protect conscience, and reject religious nationalism. We signed with conviction and hope. (You can read and sign the covenant here.)
That moment of unity was powerful—but it is meant to lead to participation. There is a role for all of us to play. Here are a few simple, meaningful ways you can join this movement of solidarity and hope.
What You Can Do
- Listen. Do not just hear about the persecuted—really listen. Their witness is sharper than our sermons.
- Pray. Pray for believers in persecuted nations, and join our 365 days of missional prayer.
- Support advocacy. Partner with 21Wilberforce who are on the frontlines.
- Sign the Covenant. Add your name to the Global Covenant and become one of 1 million voices for freedom in the BWA family.
The Church that suffers is not silent. We heard her at BWA—and now it is our responsibility to respond.
May we become a church family that does not turn away, but leans in. That does not just admire courage from afar but learns from it. That lets the faith of our global brothers and sisters reshape our own. Not out of pity—but because we are one body, and their witness is a gift we cannot afford to ignore.
Ashley Berryhill is the Global Engagement Director. She loves cultivating people’s hearts to bring hope to this world – so invite her to coffee.
July 19, 2025
Reprinted from FBCA.org