The small shop across from a Sikh temple

A Daily Reminder

This is where Simran and her three boys live now. Her oldest is fourteen, her youngest just six. And right across the street stands a Sikh temple with a sign about their martyrs. I couldn’t help but think about how she sees that sign every morning when she opens the small shop we helped build – a reminder of the community that took her husband’s life just months ago.

He was killed with swords at what should have been a joyful church dedication service. That’s the reality of following Jesus in parts of India today. The same hands that once shared meals and friendship can turn to violence when you choose Christ.

I wasn’t sure how Simran would talk about it. The trauma is so fresh. But she wanted to tell her story, even as tears rolled down her cheeks. Her mother-in-law sat nearby, sobbing as we spoke. When Holly, who was traveling with us, knelt to pray with her, the older woman grabbed her in a bear hug and wouldn’t let go. Some grief needs no translation.

“I have already forgiven them,” Simran told me. She said it simply, like stating a fact about the weather.

When I asked how, she explained that God gave her the power – she couldn’t do it on her own. Watching her there, I thought about Stephen’s last words as he faced his killers, asking God not to hold their sin against them. It’s one thing to read those words in Acts. It’s another to hear them from a widow whose husband was killed just months ago.

From Nothing to Everything

“I felt very happy,” Simran told us about her wedding day, smiling briefly at the memory. “Because my wedding was conducted according to Christian traditions, even though my mother and father were not Christians.”

She and her husband started with nothing. No bicycle, no transportation. They’d walk for hours between villages with their six-month-old son to share about Jesus. They sold their own clothes to fund their ministry work. Even their wheat harvest went to support their calling instead of feeding their family.

I’ve been meeting persecuted Christians for years now, but I’m still struck by how different their faith looks from mine. Simran wasn’t raised in this – she came from a Sikh family. She chose it. And even after losing everything, she’s still choosing it.

A Shifting Landscape

Rev. Arun, who works with Christians across India, told me how things have shifted here: “There was a time when we lived as brothers and sisters. Now that same brotherhood is diminishing.” He explained how persecution has evolved – where it once took fifty people to disrupt a church service, today it only takes one. The others are just a phone call away.

The government’s new anti-conversion laws make it worse. In Uttar Pradesh alone, 144 pastors have been jailed this year. Christians face “delisting” movements threatening their tribal benefits, boycotts cutting off their water and food, social isolation making every day a struggle.

“Don’t cry, Mom, Dad is in heaven.” – Simran’s youngest son

But sitting there with Simran as the rain fell, watching her youngest son try to comfort her, I saw something I didn’t expect. Not just grief, though there’s plenty of that. But a quiet determination that reminds me of the early church.

When I asked about her hopes for her boys, she didn’t talk about their safety or success. “I want them to become good servants,” she said simply. “To serve the Lord like my husband did.”

A Future of Faith

I think about Simran often now. About how she opens that small shop each morning, facing that Sikh temple, choosing to stay and serve in the same community that took her husband. About her boys growing up in the shadow of that choice. About what real faith looks like when measured in daily acts of forgiveness.

We cut a ribbon to open her shop that day. Had to do it inside though – too many eyes on the street. As we prayed over the neat shelves of groceries and household items, I noticed Simran’s mother-in-law had stopped crying. She was watching her daughter-in-law with something like pride.

The rain eventually let up. But I keep thinking about that sound on the tin roof, the mud on our shoes, Phoebe padding around our feet, and the kind of faith that grows in places like this – where following Jesus costs everything, and people choose it anyway.

*Names changed for security. Your support helps provide for families like Simran’s across India, where Christian persecution continues to intensify.