New Christmas Music with Just the Right Holiday Vibes

Kelsey Kramer McGinnis

From Matt Redman’s rich sing-alongs to CeCe Winans’s surprising crossovers, these 2024 releases are getting us in the spirit.

Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: WikiMedia Commons, Getty

Have you ever heard a medley of “Feliz Navidad” and “O Holy Night”? I hadn’t either, until this year (thank you, CeCe Winans).

This batch of new Christmas releases was full of fun surprises: elaborately orchestrated arrangements of favorite carols, bluesy ballads, and an array of thoughtful, original songs reflecting on the arrival of Christ and the eternal echoes of the first Christmas.

Whether you’re looking for Christmas music to accompany hosting and feasting or gentle songs to listen to in a quiet house with a cup of cinnamon tea, there’s something here for you.

As I write this, I’m looking at our family’s first batch of Christmas cookies, creatively decorated by my three kids. (I’m calling it our test batch.) We listened to some of these albums as we mixed and frosted. Their favorite new song so far is Cochren & Co.’s “This Christmas.” I don’t have a favorite yet, but Ben Folds’s new album has been a nice accompaniment to these first chilly days.

Matt Redman—In Excelsis (EP)

Finding new, singable Christmas songs can be challenging for churches that want to include traditional carols alongside music that reflects their usual worship style. Matt Redman’s “When We Behold (In Excelsis)” borrows the familiar melody of “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross,” making it an ideal seasonal congregational song to introduce at a time of year when people look forward to gathering and singing well-loved melodies.

The song is cowritten and performed by Redman and Jon Guerra, who replace the first verse of the hymn with lyrics that preserve the theme of “surveying” or “beholding” Christ in a new context:

When we behold that scene long ago,
Shepherds in fields under cover of night,
Breaking the silence, a heavenly choir,
As angels appeared in glorious light.

The EP also includes an arrangement of “Silent Night” and a song called “God the Son,” a hopeful, piano-driven original with rich string accompaniment, cowritten with Andrew Bergthold, Quintin Trotter, and W. David O. Taylor.

We Are Messengers—Rejoice! A Celtic Christmas (EP)

For fans of Keith and Kristyn Getty’s Irish Christmas music and tour, this release from We Are Messengers will be a welcome addition to the rotation of Celtic Christmas music. What is it about Celtic music that feels so cozy and perfect for Christmastime?

The festive, spirited arrangements of “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day” and “The Wexford Carol” showcase tuneful string lines and close vocal harmonies.

“Thorn and Thistle,” a contemplative original carol cowritten with Kristyn Getty, has a haunting, lilting melody reminiscent of “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence.”

The lyrics meditate on the mysterious, even sorrowful realities of the Incarnation—that Christ’s arrival was good news to humanity but was also an act of sacrifice and love that brought a perfect God into contact with the world’s brokenness and darkness:

To a world of thorn and thistle,
Shadowed still by Eden’s fall,
On a night so unexpected,
Enters the Lord of all.

CeCe Winans—Joyful, Joyful: A Christmas Album

CeCe Winans has been a force in Christian music for decades, winning 15 Grammy Awards, 31 Dove Awards, and 19 Stellar Awards. Her new Christmas album—produced and cowritten with her son, Alvin Love III—showcases Winans’s iconic voice across high-energy gospel tracks, simple arrangements of carols, and dance-pop infused Christmas favorites.

The opening track, “Joy to the World,” is a pop-EDM setting of Isaac Watts’s classic hymn, infused with exuberant choral interjections. “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” is a piano waltz with unexpected chromaticism and dramatic orchestral flourishes.

A surprising Latin jazz mash-up combines “Feliz Navidad” and “O Holy Night.” The final track is a simple setting of “Silent Night,” with Winans and a choir singing in resonant unison over guitar and orchestra.

Future of Forestry—Symphonic Christmas (Live)

Ambient rock artist and composer Eric Owyoung blends his electronic scoring techniques with the drama and dynamic range of a live orchestra for a unique, unified live project. The album begins with a plaintive solo of the first few lines of, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” dissolving into a gentle, uplifting “Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus.”

Owyoung’s orchestrations are lush, playing with texture and timbre to build a narrative arc into each track. A choral interlude in “Emmanuel” delivers wistful, close harmonies.

The closing track is a setting of “Joy to the World” over first suspenseful then increasingly anticipatory percussion and strings, finally breaking into a rock anthem setting of the hymn “All Creatures of our God and King.” It’s worth making time to listen to the album in its entirety to experience the emotional trajectory of the whole performance, from the first “O come, O come” to the final “rejoice.”

JJ Heller—The More The Merrier (full release Nov. 29)

Folk singer and songwriter JJ Heller’s vibrant voice and gift for lyrical imagery come together on an album of richly arranged Christmas favorites and thoughtful originals.

The personal, evocative “Thanksgiving Song” lovingly calls to mind encounters and images from family gatherings. “God With All of Us” is a stirring musical narration of human encounters with Christ as an infant—starting with an intimate vignette of Mary. Its anthemic chorus builds throughout the song:

God with us, close enough,
For our eyes to see and our hands to touch,
Hope for all, great and small,
God with us, God with all of us.

A very fun and un-grumpy cover of “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” and a retro-jazz version of “Jingle Bells” both feature playful original orchestrations and a kids’ choir. The album has something for everyone looking to add to their Christmas playlists—whether for quiet morning reflections or a party.

Ben Folds—Sleigher

Fellow millennial indie pop enthusiasts rejoice—it’s a Ben Folds album, complete with the lively, bright piano riffs and cheery vocal melodies that listeners expect from Folds. Instrumental tracks like “Waiting for Snow” and “Little Drummer Bolero” draw on the same festive energy as Vince Guaraldi’s Charlie Brown standards. Something about the jazz-pop piano harmony sounds like taking a walk on a still, snowy day.

“Sleepwalking Through Christmas” is a gently swung, bluesy track about going through the motions of merrymaking when your mind is somewhere else:

I’m sleepwalking through Christmas.
Everybody thinks that I’m awake.
I keep my eyes open; I’m eloquently spoken.
Oh, this might be the year I make a change.

The album has a magnetic blend of winter melancholy, introspection, and hopefulness that Folds always manages to turn into something warm and bright and comforting.

Jonathan McReynolds—Red & Green

Grammy Award–winner Jonathan McReynolds has become one of today’s most celebrated gospel vocalists, collaborating with artists like Marvin Winans and Chandler Moore. His first Christmas album is a gospel–R & B project with almost-cinematic scope in its arrangements and emotional range.

The title track, “Red & Green,” is a driving, feel-good pop anthem that showcases McReynolds’s vocal power and virtuosity.

“Sent Me a King,” a soulful duet featuring and cowritten by gospel singer and pianist Smokie Norful, is both personal and expansive in its reflection on Christ’s reign, proclaiming both “God sent me a king” and “God sent us a king.”

Tedashii—’Tis the Season

Celebrated Christian hip-hop artist Tedashii is known by his fans as a prolific rapper and member of the 116, a collective of artists signed to Reach Records (the label founded by Lecrae). Tedashii has had a long and successful career, helping build the Christian hip-hop scene and collaborating with artists like Trip Lee, Sho Baraka, KB, and Andy Mineo.

’Tis the Season is a departure from Tedashii’s usual musical output; it’s a warm, inviting collection of Christmas originals and rearrangements. His mellow singing voice is perfectly suited to the understated renditions of “Away in a Manger,” “The Christmas Song,” and “Silent Night.”

Alongside Christmas standards are several vibey romantic tracks—“Cold Outside” and “Christmas Call,” a charming, lighthearted duet featuring Christian electronic dance singer V. Rose—for anyone looking for something slightly steamy.

Cochren & Co.—The Company Christmas Album

Cochren & Co.’s Christmas album is a spirited southern-rock and blues-inflected collection of covers and originals. Lead singer Michael Cochren’s versatile and agile voice has the right amount of smoothness for an R & B standard like “This Christmas” and enough grain and soul for a driving, rough-and-tumble blues rendition of “Caroling, Caroling.”

“Ribbons and Bows” has the infectious, hook-driven flavor of a contemporary country ballad, and “That Spirit of Christmas” is a laid-back, loungy slow track. Both songs balance the sentimentality of familiar Christmas themes with fresh musical ideas and lyricism.

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Church Life

From Village Girl to Evangelical Leader

Surinder Kaur

How Martha Das grew into a powerful voice for Bangladesh’s Christian minority.

Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: Getty, Portrait Courtesy of Martha Das

Draped in a beautiful sari and smiling warmly, Martha Das stands out in any setting. As general secretary of the National Christian Fellowship of Bangladesh (NCFB), she is the only female leader of an evangelical alliance in Asia. Das’s rise to this position is a major milestone in her Muslim-majority nation of 174 million people, where fewer than half a million are Christians according to the 2022 census.

In her seven years as head of NCFB, Das has built unity among Christian leadership, managed crises, improved evangelical relations with the government, undertaken community development programs, and empowered women through various initiatives.

Asa Kain, superintendent of the Bangladesh Assemblies of God (BAG) and Das’s own pastor, praised her work in reorganizing the BAG national women’s ministry. “She does well to unite different denominations by her patient communication,” Kain said.

Born in the village Kotalipara about 90 miles from Dhaka, Das grew up in a nominal Christian family. Her mother was a deaconess in their small village church of about 15 families, where “few could read the Bible,” she recalled. “Therefore, no one taught us about the Bible, about Jesus, or at Sunday school.” Whatever they learned came from apastor from another community, who visited once a month to administer communion.

Despite this minimal access to Christian instruction, Das felt a pull toward God and the church at age nine. She would skip the first period of school every Sunday (as Bangladesh has weekly off on Fridays and Saturdays and Sundays are working days) to visit the church—often earning herself a smack on the face from her teacher for missing a class. “I didn’t feel embarrassment or shame; I thought to myself that I was not at fault, as I had gone to no other place but to church,” she said.

In 1987, at age 17, Das had a transformative spiritual experience. During the great floods in Bangladesh, a visiting Bible college student shared the gospel with her. “While he was sharing, I felt a strong force inside me, and suddenly, in the presence of my relatives, I went on my knees and accepted Jesus. He prayed over me, and joy, peace, and heat began to overflow inside me like a flood,” Das said.

This event sparked a passion for sharing her faith, and she soon began leading a youth group in her village. “So I got my first congregation,” Das said, laughing. The youth began to spend time meditating on God’s Word, fasting, singing, and praying, and “miracles of physical healing began to happen.”

Das’s early leadership was not without challenges. Her work aroused suspicion from her own mother and some older church members, and they asked Das not to gather the youth for prayer or Bible study. When the youth continued to meet at a different location, the Christian organization that was sponsoring Das’s college studies permanentaly suspended her scholarship. However, her determination led to the formation of a new church, which eventually grew to include many members from her community, including her parents.

An educational pioneer

Historically, few women in Bangladesh have pursued higher education. Das has sought to break that barrier, not only for herself but also for others.

“I wanted to see Bangladeshi young girls admitted to Bible colleges, so I wrote letters to the leadership requesting them to help them pursue studies,” she said.

Her own educational journey was full of obstacles, including visa issues and cultural expectations about marriage. Potential sponsors worried that if she went overseas to study, she would marry in that country and never return. To allay that concern, she agreed at age 20 to enter an arranged marriage with Dennis Das. Both of them then enrolled at Southern Asia Bible College (SABC) in Bangalore, India.

Jacob Cherian, a New Testament professor at SABC who taught the couple, called Martha Das an “engaged learner” whose “vibrant faith shone through.”

Upon returning to Bangladesh, the couple started a church near the Dhaka airport and initiated the formation of a slum school that grew to serve 180 children. In 2004, they earned MDiv degrees from Asia Pacific Theological Seminary in the Philippines.

Martha Das’s career progression included serving as BAG’s national ministry coordinator for women, head of the translation department for the Bangladesh Bible Society, and manager of Christian commitment at World Vision, where she was responsible for arranging spiritual retreats.

New direction for NCFB

In March 2017, Das became general secretary at NCFB. The position had been vacant for two years. When Das wondered why NCFB would hire a female and not a male, the alliance explained that they recognized her competence and valued having “a female figure with motherly qualities to trust and lead.”

“There should be no difference of gender,” said Philip Adhikary, chairman of NCFB. “We found Martha to be a right choice for this position whereas many male leaders weren’t.”

As she weighed whether to take the job, “God told me that he gave me good platforms and a lot of experience with different denominations and ethnic minorities,” Das said. “And if I do not step into this service, then who will? It also helped that I had the support of my husband and family.”

Demonstrating her leadership early on, Das persuaded denominational leaders to clear their outstanding dues and successfully raised sufficient funds for NCFB’s annual conference, challenging traditional expectations about women’s roles in organizational leadership.

As general secretary, Das said her primary mission is to foster unity not only among evangelicals but also within the wider Christian community and beyond, facilitating an effective witness of the gospel. When conflicts arise, Das steps in as a peacemaker and mediator. Her ecumenical influence extends further through her role as the secretary for the United Forum of Churches (UFCB), a collaborative platform that includes the NCFB, the Catholic Bishops’ Conference, and the National Council of Churches in Bangladesh.

Das’s influence also extends beyond religious circles. Among her noteworthy achievements, Das delivered a speech at a Christmas function hosted by former president of Bangladesh Abdul Hamid in 2022.

Das sees her position as an opportunity to inspire other women, especially younger ones, to step into positions of responsibility. Adhikary, the NCFB chairman, affirmed that “as a woman, she [Das] can reach many women to follow her lead.”

As part of her effort to establish Christians’ credibility in Bangladesh, Das conducts programs with other faith leaders. The NCFB has also initiated dialogues to raise awareness around such issues as child protection, violence against women and children, and human rights, in partnership with World Vision Bangladesh and other organizations.

A determined leadership style

Das’s leadership style, which evangelical leaders say is characterized by humility, inclusivity, and strong faith, has received international appreciation. Grace Hee, executive director of the Asia Evangelical Alliance, called Das “a visionary leader with a righteous indignation. Despite limited resources, Martha identifies what needs to be done and pursues it with unwavering faith.”

Much of this was on display during the pandemic. When COVID-19 shut down houses of worship across the country, NCFB distributed relief to thousands of families through various denominations in several phases. Simultaneously, NCFB started various initiatives, including income-generation programs, to support hundreds of pastors who had been adversely affected by the lockdown

Along with leaders from UFCB, Das also spearheaded nationwide prayer initiatives while making theological and devotional resources available to the church at large.

Das is “a warm-hearted person” who is “pastoral and with a passion for evangelism, mission, and social justice in Bangladesh,” said Godfrey Yogarajah, chairman of the Asia Evangelical Alliance, noting her theological astuteness and her commitment to equipping younger leaders for kingdom work.

The 54-year-old leader maintains an ambitious workload despite excruciating pain in her back, for which she has undergone two surgeries that have yet to eliminate the discomfort.

Das continues to push the NCFB to stretch its capacity. In one case last year, she proposed an evangelism program in an unreached district but was turned down. “So we prayed for an entire year, and this year they said yes,” she added.

Another big challenge is the uncertainty Bangladeshi churches are facing due to the political unrest in the country. After student protests last July turned violent, the prime minister, Sheikh Hasina, had to flee for her life in early August. While Islam is the official state religion of Bangladesh, activists—including some Christian leaders—continue to advocate for a more religiously pluralistic and inclusive national framework, seeking to protect the rights of religious minorities.

A firm advocate for a secular state, Das emphasized that “everyone should have the right to live in peace and harmony and propagate and practice their own religion.” However, she does not always experience such security herself. If she does not cover her head when walking in public, strangers sometimes approach her and insist that she do so.

“Many believers, especially those who converted from a majority background, face persecution and threats,” said Das, who noted that the Christian minority lacks a voice in Bangladesh’s parliament.

Das also hopes to address the lack of theologically trained leadership in the churches of Bangladesh.

Das is a “motivation for Asian women,” said Jyoti Bhattarai, a member of the Asia Evangelical Alliance Women’s Commission from Nepal. Bhattarai recalled that after their first meeting—which occurred after Das asked the predominantly male evangelical leadership in Nepal to introduce her to a Nepali female leader—“Martha called me many times to encourage and inspire me. It is only because of her that I am connected with the female leadership of Asia.”

Das reflected on the skepticism she encounters as a young woman occupying a high leadership position: “Some may even feel envious, though they don’t show it outwardly. I’ve come to understand that this isn’t their personal problem but rather a result of the culture they grew up in and the mindset they’ve developed.”

To navigate these cultural dynamics, Das has developed a nuanced approach. “I’ve learned to respect older leaders as I would my own parents,” she explained. “In that way, they treat me as if I were a younger family member rather than as a threatening authority figure. While the hierarchical mindset may never go away completely, I certainly do not expect them to put me on a pedestal. I maintain respect for their experience while fulfilling my role.”

Das’s husband, Dennis, who teaches at Gloria Theological Seminary in Dhaka, agreed that Bangladesh’s traditional social system “subjugated” women (under men) and that women had fewer opportunities than men, but he believes things have changed significantly.

“Women now receive free education, and gender discrimination is minimized in job settings through quotas for women in political leadership and through loans for women in business,” Dennis Das stated. “Churches are more in favor of encouraging female leadership due to their proactive involvement and greater participation.”

Das appreciates the progress. But she is still praying that more women will “help alongside men evangelizing the nation” and not be “left behind.”

Additional reporting by Morgan Lee

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Culture

Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Misunderstood

Paul Marchbanks

“Wicked” calls our judgments into question.

Cynthia Erivo is Elphaba in WICKED

Giles Keyte / Universal Pictures

Belief in wickedness both clarifies and complicates human relations. Accepting that an Adversary bent on our destruction actually exists, one who can’t be bargained with or appeased, places the sword of the Spirit in ready hands (Eph. 6:17). Configuring metaphysical struggles as active combat helps energize not only the prayer warrior on their knees but also the caregiver committed to returning love for endless demands and the day worker who braves mistreatment from a series of oppressive employers.

If we can remember that our true foe is neither the recalcitrant coworker nor the disgruntled family member, martial imagery can prove useful—focusing devotion and inspiring endurance.

But a mind primed for conflict can also mistake difference for malevolence or confuse an imperfect individual with the author of deception. Lucifer only inhabits a stabbable body in video games and horror films, and crossing swords without causing collateral damage requires discernment. No matter how flawed the person in question, remembering the call to love our enemies (Matt. 5:44), those who also bear the divine imprint (Gen. 1:27), should prevent us from targeting pesky people as if they were the Devil incarnate.

Victorian novelist Mary Ann Evans (aka George Eliot) had little patience for knee-jerk assessments of others’ moral character. She recognized the temptation to inflate our own sense of righteousness by deriding those who appear to fall short of invisible, exacting benchmarks. In the novel Adam Bede, she anticipates her reader’s desire to label as pagan a rural pastor who neglects to prevent sexual malfeasance. Pausing the tale to speak directly to her audience, her narrator declares that condemning others for such failures, as for their brusque manners or lack of beauty, constitutes egregious self-deception.

Jesus cautions against seeking specks with our log-filled eyes (Matt. 7:1–5). Similarly, the narrator of Adam Bede insists we remember our shared fallibility with those we denounce, lest we “leave them quite out of our religion and philosophy, and frame lofty theories which only fit a world of extremes.”

If we can instead learn to sympathize with fictional characters in books like hers, Eliot argues, we’ll be primed to extend charity in the real world.

This merciful ethos transformed storytelling in the last half of the 20th century with the retconning of established villains. Jean Rhys’s Wide Sargasso Sea (1966) reimagined Charlotte Brontë’s Bertha Mason as a mistreated, wrongly imprisoned Caribbean heiress instead of the violent adulteress in Jane Eyre. John Gardner’s Grendel (1971) recast the monster of Beowulf as a stymied philosopher. In the years since, nearly every classic villain bent on frustrating the happily ever after of a Snow White, Little Mermaid, or Sleeping Beauty has been reconfigured as a misunderstood victim of prejudice or bad luck.

Or take George Lucas’s original trilogy, in which a murderous psychopath fond of telekinetic chokeholds turns into a remorseful, conflicted father willing to die for his son. Darth Vader’s return to the light mirrored the redemptive arc of a Christian penitent, supercharging my young imagination with salvific possibility.

Today’s storytellers tend to either flatten baddies into risible, easily dismissed puppets whose defeat moves us not at all or grant villains the depth traditionally reserved for heroes. Marvel’s Killmonger, Loki, and Magneto fit the ranks of the latter, as do J. J. Abrams’s Kylo Ren, Todd Phillips’s version of the Joker, and Gregory Maguire’s Elphaba, otherwise known as the Wicked Witch of the West.

Maguire’s first novel about Elphaba, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, launched a book series and Broadway musical so popular that cinematic translation was inevitable. The movie Wicked: Part One (Part Two arrives in November 2025) writes backward from that weird moment in The Wizard of Oz when the diminutive inhabitants of Munchkinland sing a rousing, eerily vengeful chorus of “Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead.” Wicked opens with a similarly disturbing anthem, “No One Mourns the Wicked.”

“Ding-Dong” assumes that an individual can be wholly evil, that there is social utility in a scapegoat, and that an enemy’s death constitutes an intrinsic good. “No One Mourns the Wicked” ironizes such thinking by pushing its suppositions to the breaking point. Its cheerful melody is undercut with barely disguised cruelty. “The good man scorns the Wicked,” we’re told, leaving the pariah to “cry alone” until, finally, thankfully, they one day “die alone.”

How do we justify such marginalization? By convincing ourselves “we know what Goodness is” and “the truth we all believe’ll by and by / outlive a lie.” Lyricist Stephen Schwartz nimbly undermines the conviction that we can ever know another person well enough to damn them by appending the subtle caveats “we all believe” to “truth” and “we know” to “goodness.”

The Christian knows we are prone to rely too heavily on appearances (1 Sam. 16:7; John 7:24), and that darkness often obscures our understanding of truth (1 Cor. 4:5). The Munchkins’ summary judgment of Elphaba should make us cringe, not cheer.

Like the book and the musical, Wicked: Part One refuses to limit its critique to a single social dynamic. The most obvious target is racial discrimination, an abhorrence of green skin standing in for race-based prejudice writ large. (That cinematographer Alice Brooks lights certain passageways so Cynthia Erivo’s green makeup briefly resembles the dark brown of the actor’s skin underscores this commentary.)

Wicked also questions why we dole out pity toward people with mobility impairments. And (in a move C. S. Lewis would approve) it questions the mistreatment of talking animals. Every point in this multipronged assault on intolerance hinges on the central premise that all bigotry proceeds from unquestioned conclusions about others’ moral constitution.

Some might ask whether all this restructuring goes too far. If we recast every evildoer as a survivor of trauma and attribute actions we once thought evil to mischance and others’ willful misinterpretations, are we whitewashing the human condition? Does such relentless character revision amount to a methodical deconstruction of brokenness that explains away human error by blaming it on faulty design and unhappy circumstance?

Not really. For every villain we rehabilitate, there’s another waiting in the wings, hiding behind a veneer of respectability and effectively deceptive propaganda. Wicked is no exception. The film’s big reveal does not ask us to disbelieve in badness, merely to question those biases that so often mislead and misname. Something wicked this way comes, just not by way of the usual suspects.

Paul Marchbanks is a professor of English at California Polytechnic State University. His YouTube channel is “Digging in the Dirt.”

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News

Mozambique Drops Terrorist Case Against Missionary Pilot Helping Orphans

James Thompson

MAF’s Ryan Koher plans to return to the country where he was imprisoned now that investigators have cleared charges related to “suspicious” cargo.

Annabel and Ryan Koher

Courtesy of Ryan Koher

November 8 started off as a normal Friday for Ryan Koher.

The 33-year-old missionary pilot was at his desk in a hangar at Mission Aviation Fellowship’s (MAF’s) headquarters in Nampa, Idaho, where he had been working for several months.

But then a colleague came in with some long-awaited news: Authorities in Mozambique had finally closed an investigation of Koher on suspicions of supporting insurgents in the northern region of the country. No charges would be filed.

“It was kind of unreal,” Koher said in an interview with CT. “We’re really excited, and the main reason we’re excited is that this allows us to go back to Mozambique.”

Almost two years ago to the day, Koher and the volunteers flying with him were arrested. The three men spent four months in prison before being granted provisional release, after which Koher returned to the states last year.

MAF had always maintained that the charges were erroneous.

“From the very beginning, we knew that Ryan was carrying out a legitimate and needed flight and was completely innocent of the suspicions that were investigated,” MAF president and CEO David Holsten said in a press release.

“During this lengthy ordeal, Ryan and [his wife] Annabel have faithfully trusted the Lord and experienced His sustaining care on many occasions. We are so grateful to everyone who has diligently prayed for the Koher family. We know that God will use this situation for His glory.”

The public prosecutor’s office in Mozambique came to the same conclusion earlier this month. The document announcing the decision to drop the investigation stated that “it was not possible to determine any connection between the accused and any terrorist or terrorist organization at a domestic or international level.”

Instead, officials determined that Koher and the volunteers’ activities were intended to “support vulnerable people (widows and orphans).”

The Kohers had moved to Mozambique in December 2021 with their two young sons. Ryan Koher began flying for MAF’s local partner Ambassador Aviation, which provides medical evacuations, transport for doctors and conservationists to remote areas, delivery of humanitarian aid, and general charters.

Koher was transporting a delivery destined for an orphanage in Balama—located in the embattled Cabo Delgado province in northern Mozambique—back in November 2022 when police became suspicious during a security screening.

Koher had met up with two South African volunteers—W. J. du Plessis and Eric Dry—who had the supplies for the orphanage. They were scheduled to fly from Inhambane to Nampula, Mozambique, where another pilot would take them further. However, police confiscated the materials and detained the three men.

A document from the Mozambique public prosecutor’s office announcing the end of the investigation states that authorities took notice of the supplies in part because they were destined for a province plagued by a violent Islamic insurgency. Security forces have been battling militants in Cabo Delgado since 2017.

Despite attempts to explain the destination and purpose of the supplies, officials at the Inhambane airport suspected that they would be used to support terrorist activity.

Police kept Koher, du Plessis, and Dry in a holding cell for several days. They were brought before a judge who ruled that they should be officially arrested. The men were taken to the city jail in Inhambane, then two days later to a provincial jail, before finally being moved to Machava High Security Prison in southern Mozambique on November 16.

When she first heard that her husband had been detained, Annabel remembers assuming that everything would likely be cleared up soon. That changed when she learned he was being investigated for terrorism-related activity.

“This is a situation where faith becomes real,” she remembered thinking at the time. “Are we going to trust that God’s plans for us are good … regardless of what’s going on?”

During the initial days of his incarceration, Koher recalled being comforted by a sense of “supernatural peace.” However, he also experienced feelings of apprehension and bitterness. Not long after being booked into the high security facility, he realized that he had not yet forgiven his captors.

Courtesy of Ryan Koher

Ryan Koher

“We need to love and pray for everyone, including the people who are seemingly wronging us,” Koher said. “That really hit me like a ton of bricks, that I need to forgive them. So I forgave them, [and] I prayed and asked for forgiveness for not loving them.”

Koher said that the officials and guards at the prison treated him humanely, even kindly. But there were plenty of challenges during his four-month incarceration. He and the two South Africans were kept in solitary confinement for nearly two months after arriving at the high security prison, and all three men suffered from terrible itching. They later learned the itching was caused by scabies.

These experiences gave Koher a new perspective on the Bible, which he read from cover to cover almost twice during his time in prison.

“Paul wrote a lot of these letters from jail, and it’s something that’s easy to take for granted until you’re actually in jail,” Koher said. “Paul is writing from jail to other Christians who are being persecuted [and telling them] to stay strong, keep praising, keep praying, have joy, and keep following God’s commands, even when unjust things are happening.”

Reading Scripture helped motivate Koher, du Plessis, and Dry to represent Christ well to the others at the prison. They had opportunities to talk with other inmates and prison officials about their faith.

The three men were finally released from the Machava prison on March 14, 2023, but were required to remain in Mozambique. Koher’s passport was finally returned to him in late September that year, but the investigation remained open.

Koher was able to successfully renew his visa and work permit, meaning that he was technically allowed to live and work in Mozambique; however, MAF staff wanted Koher and his family to return to the United States as a precaution until his case was officially resolved. They arrived back in the US on October 5, 2023.

Now that the case is resolved, the Kohers are making plans to return to Mozambique and resume their ministry sometime during the first few months of 2025. The family will be bigger on this trip, though. Ryan and Annabel’s two sons, Elias and Hezekiah, will soon be joined by a daughter, Abigail.

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Theology

Happy Thankless Thanksgiving

Wil Rogan

Paul hardly ever thanked anyone directly. What can his refrain “I thank God for you” teach us about gratitude?

Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Getty, Unsplash

“Give thanks in all circumstances,” Paul says (1 Thess. 5:18). Usually, our difficulty with this instruction is the words all circumstances. Most of us, after all, are not thankful in all circumstances.

But there’s another difficulty. We have different ideas than Paul about who and how to thank. The surprising thing is that, for as much as he gave thanks, Paul almost never thanked anyone directly in his letters. Only one time do we see him do this: Paul thanked Priscilla and Aquila because they risked their lives for him (Rom. 16:3–4). But that’s about it.

Paul came close to saying thank you another time. He acknowledged that his friends at Philippi were the only ones in recent memory to lend him financial support (Phil. 4:15–20). He recounted his joy in the Lord and said it was good of them to share his affliction (4:10, 14). But instead of thanking them for the gift, Paul wrote about how he had “learned to be content whatever the circumstances” (4:11).

At best, Paul gave his friends a “thankless thanks” to show them he could have done without their support. Even today, such a response might be considered rude.

In his intellectual history of gratitude, Peter Leithart suggests even more was at stake in the ancient Roman world. Paul was disrupting a convention fundamental to social life: If you receive a gift, you owe the one who gave it to you. By avoiding direct thanks, Paul resisted this idea of social debt (though see Phm. 19).

What Paul did instead was direct all thanks to God. He had a peculiar grammar of giving thanks. Instead of “thank you,” Paul would say something like “I always thank my God for you” (1 Cor. 1:4) or “I thank my God every time I remember you” (Phil. 1:3).

So Paul almost never said thank you, but he was no ingrate. In fact, if his letters are any indication, Paul was a once-in-a-century giver of thanks.

It would be difficult to find a first-century Hellenistic author whose letters outdo Paul’s in terms of thanksgiving to God. By my count, the 13 canonical letters attributed to Paul have twenty thanksgivings to God (Rom. 1:8–10; 6:17; 7:24–25; 1 Cor. 1:4–9; 1:14–16; 14:18–19; 15:57; 2 Cor. 2:14–17; 8:16–17; 9:11–15; Phil. 1:3–11; Col. 1:3–14; 1 Thess. 1:2–10; 2:13; 3:6–12; 2 Thess. 1:3–12; 2:13–14; 1 Tim. 1:12–14; 2 Tim. 1:3–5; Phm. 4–6). Two letters have blessings in place of opening thanksgivings (2 Cor. 1:3–7; Eph. 1:3–14) and two do not have any expressions of thanks (Galatians and Titus).

There is some debate among scholars about whether Paul’s thanksgivings owed more to literary convention or to his own inventiveness—that is, did Paul have to give thanks at the start of his letters or did he do so by his own initiative? My own view tends toward the latter, allowing that he built on conventions that preceded him. Even where one finds thanksgivings comparable to Paul’s, they are, in my estimation, sparser in nature.

Note, for example, the contrast between thanksgivings in these excerpts from two letters of similar length—a second-century letter by a military recruit and Paul’s letter to Philemon:

Before all else I pray for your health and that you may always be well and prosperous, together with my sister and her daughter and my brother. I thank the lord Serapis that when I was in danger at sea he straightway saved me. (Letter from Apion to Epimachus, translated by Hunt and Edgar)

I always thank my God as I remember you in my prayers, because I hear about your love for all his holy people and your faith in the Lord Jesus. I pray that your partnership with us in the faith may be effective in deepening your understanding of every good thing we share for the sake of Christ. (Phm. 4–6)

Both letters interpret something that happened as the action of a deity, but, as David Pao has observed, Paul’s thanksgiving focuses on how God is at work in both his life and his readers’ lives. In so doing, Paul interprets their lives together in terms of the love and faith made possible by Jesus. This basic difference between Paul’s letters and other ancient writings appears several times over.

It seems to me that Paul gave thanks to God as much as he did because he found much before him to give thanks for: that God had raised Jesus from the dead, that God had called pagans into communion with Jesus, that God’s Spirit was working to make people holy, and much more besides. Sometimes it seems that Paul simply could not contain his gratitude to God. He once asked the Thessalonians, “How can we thank God enough for you in return for all the joy we have in the presence of our God because of you?” (1 Thess. 3:9).

Now, I don’t mean to suggest that ancient people were not in the habit of giving thanks to God. We are still discovering ancient texts with messages of thanks. In the mid-20th century, an ancient Jewish collection of thanksgiving psalms (Heb. Hodayot) was discovered near the Dead Sea. Earlier in the 20th century, a researcher found a nearly complete collection of early Christian hymns of thanksgiving to God called The Odes of Solomon in a stack of Syriac manuscripts.

But it is one thing to thank God in a collection of hymns and quite another to do so again and again in the personal letters you write to people. Rolf Jacobson speaks of a “costly loss of praise” when thanks to God happens only in the context of worship. We need also to articulate thanks to God in our daily lives. We need to learn to discern God’s work in the world, to name it as such, and to respond to God with thanks.

So thanksgiving calls forth attention. Paul does not give thanks to God for things in general but for particular things in the lives of his readers. He gives reasons for his thanksgiving based on what he knows of their lives. He thanks God for the Corinthians’ gifts of speech and knowledge, for the Philippians’ participation in the gospel, and for the faith and love of the Romans, Thessalonians, and Colossians. Whatever Paul thanks God for, he makes visible as God’s work in the everyday lives of the saints.

Thanksgiving, when done in this way, interprets what is most important in our lives in terms of what God is doing.

I remember the first time I experienced giving thanks like Paul. I had left home to attend university. I had only just begun to understand the effect that growing up without a father had on me. All that I might have learned, all the support I might have had—they now figured in my past as a shapeless absence. At that point, I wasn’t grieved so much as bewildered. What was I to make of it?

At a mountain retreat, in a windowed room surrounded by redwoods and twilight, we began to sing “This Is My Father’s World.” I couldn’t make it past the first verse before tears restrained me. What was it that so moved me? In that moment, I realized God had already made someone to be like a father to me: Ted Petrikis, a retired pastor who served at the local rescue mission where I volunteered. And as I gave thanks to God for Ted, I learned to think of the kindness and love he showed me as God’s own kindness and love.

Thanking God for Ted in the context of worship helped me learn to give thanks to God for Ted when I would see him. And in the years since, I have found myself thanking God for people who have loved me and whom I have loved. In recalling the faces of those I’ve been fortunate enough to know, I remember the grace of God. In this way, thanksgiving can convert memories into miracles.

To reverse an old saying—to thank is to think. That is to say, when we remember people and thank God for them, new possibilities open for how we think about our lives with them and with God. In giving thanks, we learn to think about our lives together in terms of God’s faithfulness, kindness, and mercy. I mean, think of it—in his thanksgiving for his friends at Philippi, Paul calls God the one “who began a good work in you” (Phil. 1:6).

I don’t want to give the impression that I’ve mastered thanksgiving—my everyday words of thanks to God for people are far too sporadic and thin. But in the last month, I’ve begun keeping a journal. And most mornings, I write half a page thanking God for someone. My prayers end up loosely following Paul’s structure: a line thanking God for someone in particular, a few lines on why I thank God for them, and a line or two praying for God to work in their lives. I’ve found the exercise worthwhile.

Beyond writing prayers, I wonder what it might look like to adopt Paul’s grammar of thanksgiving in our everyday speech. What if we said things like “You know, I was thinking of you, and I thanked God because …” or “I thank God for you, specifically for the way you …” or simply “Thank God”? Yes, there’s a way to do this that’s hollow and cliché. But if we express thanks in a way that shows how someone’s words or actions reflect God’s presence in the world, it’s more than likely to be weight-bearing speech.

In Paul’s thanksgivings to God (and his notable aversion to saying thank you), there is a deep theological conviction at work. Those of us in Christ are bound together in an exchange of kindness and love that originates from God. We can all thank God for the people in our lives because God really is at work in them and in us.

And if, like Paul, we are surrounded with people in whom God is at work, perhaps it is possible for us to “give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thess. 5:18).

Wil Rogan is an assistant professor of biblical studies (New Testament) at Carey Theological College in Vancouver and the author of Purity in the Gospel of John.

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Culture

I Give Thanks in the Bright Darkness

Christina Gonzalez Ho

These brilliant, painful days are all before God.

Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Pexels

In the months after my miscarriage, I thought often of a quote from C. S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia: “The sun is darkened in my eyes.” I had never experienced anything quite like it before—no matter how bright the leaves on the trees or how brilliant the afternoon sunlight, the world looked dim to me, as if someone had drawn a black veil over everything.

My miscarriage happened at the end of October, a few weeks before Thanksgiving. We celebrated the holiday with friends and family as usual, but that day felt dark in my eyes, too. The vivid decorations, the rich food, even the warmth of being surrounded by loved ones all felt like it was happening in another dimension, one that had nothing to do with my actual life.

Maybe that is how the impending holiday celebration feels to you this year, in the aftermath of another strife-ridden election season, as war continues to rage around the world and talk of mass deportations increases from a chatter to a roar. Amid so much uncertainty and suffering, sitting around a lavish table clinking glasses and thanking God for your blessings can seem ignorant at best and callous at worst.

Or perhaps the chaos and suffering are taking place in your own home, whether because of sickness, loss, or fractured family relationships—in which case celebrating Thanksgiving might feel out of touch in a different way, an exercise in going through the motions.

In recent years, I’ve watched more and more friends on social media declare their refusal to celebrate Thanksgiving. It is a colonizer’s holiday, they say, a gluttonous, jingoistic ritual steeped in oppression that we would all do well to avoid.

In the past, I might have dismissed these critiques as cranky and self-flagellating. Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays, with its focus on gathering and gratitude, and it’s less in the way of materialistic distraction than Christmas. True to my Chinese American heritage, I also have a profound attachment to food—to the love and care it symbolizes as well as its life-giving deliciousness.

Part of me still feels like dismissing these critiques, so reluctant am I to let anything mar my enjoyment of a day I hold dear. But although the dark veil of those first few months of miscarriage grief has dissipated, the memory of it is still with me. My heart feels more porous to the pain of others; the families in Ukraine, Gaza, Israel, Sudan, and beyond being displaced and watching their loved ones die do not feel so far away. The knowledge that in some cases my own nation is supplying so much of the weaponry being used against them—and that soon, we may also begin displacing millions of vulnerable people from within our own borders—feels more difficult than ever to square with any type of celebration, much less such an American one.

This isn’t the first moment in recent memory that Thanksgiving has been politically fraught. In 1970, some Native American activists instituted a National Day of Mourning as a protest against the way the holiday’s origin myth downplays the painful history of Native people. And in the years since Donald Trump’s first election, many an article has been written about family members so disturbed by each other’s political views that they no longer celebrate Thanksgiving together.

Yet there has also been tension at the heart of the holiday for centuries—almost since its inception. Thanksgiving as we know it today originated not with the 1621 harvest feast between the Pilgrims and Wampanoags but with public days of fasting, meditation, and prayer in colonial New England, during which the Puritans repented for their sins while giving thanks for the ending of a natural disaster, like an epidemic or drought.

Later, when US presidents and Congress began declaring national days of thanksgiving, they characterized them as “solemn” days, urging people to “express the grateful feelings of their hearts” while “join[ing] the penitent confession of their sins.”

And in 1863, when Abraham Lincoln proclaimed a national day of thanksgiving in the middle of the Civil War, he urged Americans to offer up “Thanksgiving and Praise” along with “humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend[ing] to [God’s] tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners, or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged.”

It seems that, historically, Thanksgiving was not meant to be a purely celebratory day, a time to luxuriate in self-satisfaction, but rather a day to hold gratitude in tension with sorrow, suffering, and sin—to acknowledge the brightness and darkness that always exist simultaneously in the world.

I experienced many emotions in the aftermath of my miscarriage: excruciating pain (both physical and emotional), rage at everyone who’d never had a miscarriage, despair at the thought that I might never get pregnant again, regret at telling so many people about the baby—for my parents, we’d ordered a cake that said “Congrats, Grandma and Grandpa” and videotaped them jumping for joy. Most of all, I felt a deep sense of meaninglessness.

When I was pregnant, I made sure to exercise, eat healthy food, take my prenatal vitamins, and examine every label on every product that came into contact with my body. After the miscarriage, all of that seemed pointless. So did prayer. When I announced the pregnancy to our friends, many of them said to us—some with tears in their eyes—that they had just been praying for us to have a baby. If all those people had prayed and the baby had still died, what was the point of praying at all?

I thought I’d never stop feeling the stabbing pain of the loss. But as the weeks and months wore on, the pain became less of an open wound and more of an ache, until eventually, I only thought about it sometimes. Then came the one-year anniversary of the miscarriage.

I hadn’t been tracking the date consciously, but as soon as the weather changed and the leaves began turning orange, my body seemed to know what time it was. By then, I was pregnant again. But in the days leading up to the one-year mark, I began to feel a heaviness in my stomach that had nothing to do with the baby growing inside of me.

It was like being dragged backward in time. The sun began to look dark again, and the meaninglessness began to suffuse the air around me once more. I knew things were bad when I found myself unmotivated to take my prenatal vitamins or even eat lunch—as if my current pregnancy did not matter, did not exist.

When I told my husband, he insisted that we pray. It was morning, and fresh sunlight was streaming through the windows into the kitchen where we sat. I stared at the light dully as he took my hand and asked God to grant us comfort, hope, and vision. When it was my turn to pray, I sat in silence for a long time, unsure of what to say. Then, remembering how my pastor begins every prayer meeting with a time of thanksgiving, I started to thank God. “Thank you for a new day. Thank you for the sunlight. Thank you for our friends.”

The words felt strange and clunky coming out of my mouth. I didn’t feel particularly grateful, but I pressed on. “Thank you for another baby. Thank you for our families, thank you for our community.” As I continued, my thanks became more detailed and specific. I still felt heavy and detached—yet I had the sense that the words were already working to call me back to myself.

That night, I reached out to my friends and family, asking for prayer and letting them know that I was struggling. Their support carried me through the week until eventually I began to feel like myself again. My healing process had begun with thanksgiving.

It occurs to me now that perhaps the darkness I began to see in the world after my miscarriage was not so much a product of my grief as it was a grief-induced revelation of the darkness that had been there all along. My loss made me more sensitive to the pain and suffering that exists continually in the world, such that for a while, it was difficult—almost impossible—to see any goodness at all.

Giving thanks in the midst of my grief did not dispel or deny my pain, but it did allow me to remember that joy and beauty still exist, and furthermore, that I need to acknowledge them in order to keep living well in this world. In naming what is good and giving credit to God for those things, we remind ourselves that God is at work in our lives and in our world—not just in spite of suffering and chaos, but right there in the midst of it. Giving thanks expands our imaginations so that we can do more than dread the future—we can also hope.

We celebrate Thanksgiving at the end of the fall, a time of bright darkness if there ever was one. In autumn, the colors and the light become so intense they are almost blinding, while the days grow shorter. It is as if light is performing its swan song while darkness crouches in the corner, ready to fling itself over everything. We can think of Thanksgiving as a celebration in defiance of darkness, or we can embrace the true roots of the holiday and treat it as a time to acknowledge the darkness and light together and to present them both to God.

Christina Gonzalez Ho is the author of the audio series The Last Two Years and the cofounder of Estuaries.

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News

Food Banks Thank God for Bacon, Buying in Bulk, and Local Support

David Roach

With grocery prices up, ministries across the country stretch to feed millions of hungry families during the holidays.

Rick Bowmer / AP

One woman at a Southern California food bank found herself overwhelmed by bacon.

“She started crying,” said pastor Charles Campbell, who directs The Joseph Project Citywide Food Bank in Moreno Valley, California. Because of rising food prices, “she never thought she would be able to eat anything that had meat in it again.”

At food pantries across America, rising food costs are swelling the clientele and forcing organizations to employ cost-saving measures to meet the need this holiday season.

Founded in 2011 by Koinonia Evangelistic Center, a 50-member nondenominational church outside San Bernardino, California, The Joseph Project is named after the biblical leader who managed Egyptian food distribution during a famine.

The Joseph Project went from giving out food to 1,000 families a week before the COVID-19 pandemic to 2,000 per week last year and now 3,000 per week.

“We just believe God every week for the money that we need to buy the food,” Campbell said.

Nearly half of congregations participate in some kind of food distribution program, according to researchers. The USDA reports that faith-based organizations run about two-thirds of community food kitchens and pantries in the US, as well as 9 percent of the country’s food banks.

Food prices in America have increased 28 percent since 2019, outpacing overall inflation over the same period. Among the factors driving higher food prices are supply-chain disruptions and rising costs of labor, production, and fuel for food producers. Amid such volatile conditions, food companies also have sought to increase profitability.

Food inflation has slowed over the past year to 2.3 percent, but the cumulative impact of food price spikes is unrelenting for families on the edge of poverty. More than 13 percent of US households—nearly 115 million people—were food insecure last year, according to the USDA.

“I can go to the grocery store, and I can fuss at my wife that I’ve got to pay $2 for a dozen eggs when I used to pay 88 cents for them,” said Kent Eikenberry, president and CEO of the Northwest Arkansas Food Bank in Lowell, Arkansas.

“But I can afford it. For those people who are right there on the edge—who make too much money to get government subsidies but not enough money to survive—that cost of food is paramount. It pushes them into the charitable food system.”

The financial pinch has grown the number of families seeking help in Northwest Arkansas. This year, the Northwest Arkansas Food Bank anticipates distributing more than 15 million pounds of food. That’s up from 14.5 million pounds last year and 8.5 million in 2018. The food bank distributes food through approximately 115 partner organizations, nearly 90 percent of which are faith-based.

Nationwide, the number of people seeking food assistance through private food distribution programs topped out at an estimated 60 million in 2020 during the COVID-19 pandemic. The figure dropped to 53 million in 2021 and 49 million in 2022 before ticking back up to 50 million last year, according to Feeding America.

Despite recent decreases, the number of Americans seeking food assistance still is well above the pre-pandemic level of 40 million annually.

Families aren’t the only ones feeling pinched. Feeding organizations feel it too. But they opt to get creative with their resources rather than leave anyone hungry.

The Northwest Arkansas Food Bank has reduced its workforce by attrition as employees have moved on or retired. The organization also tries to control its electric and gas bills. Those measures have helped it maintain a stable food inventory.

“As an organization that spends about $3 million a year buying food, that expenditure doesn’t go as far as it used to,” Eikenberry said.

The North Reading Food Pantry in the Greater Boston area has begun to adjust the items it gives clients. Previously, the organization gave a combination of gift cards and food items to any resident or local church attendee who was seeking assistance.

But in June the food pantry reduced the number of gift cards it distributed, opting instead to buy more food in bulk. It also began recruiting more local businesses and organizations to conduct food drives.

The reshuffling of resources permitted the North Reading Food Pantry to continue serving 80–100 families per month, who receive a cumulative 18,000 pounds of food each month. The food pantry is part of North Reading’s Christian Community Service organization, which helps local churches partner with ministries and in events.

“We have seen a big uptick as of late in the size of the families that shop here,” said Teresa Sanphy, a cochair at the food panty. “Seven to ten years ago, maybe a third of our clients were senior citizens. Now we have a lot more families,” as working-age people struggle increasingly with food.

Larger food banks in Greater Boston seem to experience greater effects from food inflation, Sanphy said. A food pantry in the next municipality to the south, Reading, Massachusetts, has seen an explosion of clients and is “struggling to meet the needs of their clients as of late.”

Back in Southern California, the financial hardship felt by The Joseph Project has been exacerbated by a new state law set to take effect in 2026.

Assembly Bill 660, signed into law by Gov. Gavin Newsom in September, will institute a uniform system of freshness labeling in grocery stores across the state. The law aims to reduce food waste by letting stores keep food on their shelves longer. One consequence of the law, however, is that stores will have less food to donate to local food banks that is expired but still edible.

Many stores already have instituted the new standards, Campbell said, reducing the amount of food grocers donate to Southern California food pantries by what he estimates as 40 percent.

Most of the time, The Joseph Project still can give clients what they need. But sometimes “we have to tell them, ‘This is all we’ve got today,’” Campbell said, noting that the organization has reduced food portions in its distributions. “But what we have to give, we give it.”

The biggest payoff comes for Campbell when physical food leads to spiritual nourishment as well. An atheist came to The Joseph Project for food and was so impressed with the operation that he wanted to volunteer. It didn’t take long before he committed his life to following Christ.

“Within a couple of weeks,” Campbell said, “he was saying, ‘What must I do to be saved?’”

For the stomachs fed and the lives changed, food ministries like The Joseph Project will keep making do as food costs keep rising.

As Campbell says, “Little becomes much in the Master’s hands.”

David Roach is a freelance reporter for CT and the pastor of Shiloh Baptist Church in Saraland, Alabama.

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News

Evangelicals Divided as Sharia Courts Expand in the Philippines

Caleb Maglaya Galaraga

Some view the expansion as an increase in Islamic influence while others see it as part of living in a pluralistic society.

Muslim women wait for the start of their noon prayer outside a crowded Mosque in the Philippines.

Jeoffrey Maitem / Getty

The Philippine government’s recent decision to expand sharia law into majority-Christian regions has surprised local pastors and missionaries.

In August, President Ferdinand (“Bongbong”) Marcos Jr. signed a law which created three new sharia judicial districts and 12 circuit courts across the country. Six of the seven evangelical leaders contacted by CT only learned about this decision several months later, when approached for interviews.

Some Christian leaders expressed concern that the new law was the beginning of a subtle and gradual increase of Islamic influence that would affect all Filipinos, including Christians. Others saw it as a positive step in making justice more accessible to their Muslim neighbors.

Regardless, the law “will influence the dynamics of doing the Great Commission with the culture and communities where [the sharia law] will take effect,” said Gab Nones, a lead pastor of the megachurch Victory Antipolo.

Under this decision, the Islamic court system will spread beyond the Muslim-majority territory of the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (BARMM) in southern Philippines, where former president Ferdinand Marcos Sr. first established the courts in 1977. The new judicial districts include areas that are majority Christian: northern Mindanao and the Davao region, provinces in the Visayas, and parts of Luzon and Metro Manila.

The legislation “acknowledges the importance of the sharia judicial system and brings it closer to the communities it serves, ensuring that justice according to Islamic law is more accessible to all,” said Bangsamoro Parliament member Amir Mawallil after the bill passed unanimously through the Senate.

These reforms also acknowledge a minority community (depending on sources, Muslims make up between 6 and 11 percent of the population) that for many years was violently oppressed under Spanish and American authority.

In the 16th century, when Spain colonized parts of the archipelago, the Spanish empire mobilized Christianized Filipinos to conquer and fight the Moros, a diverse group of indigenous Muslims. When Americans came to rule over the country in 1898, the US military created Moro Province, which was administered separately from the rest of Christianized Philippines. Many Moros resisted their new colonizers, which led to casualties, including more than 600 Moro men, women, and children killed in the 1906 Bud Dajo massacre.

Today, Muslims make up 90 percent of the population of BARMM, which was created in 2019 as the result of decades of peace negotiations between the Philippine government and the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF), the largest Muslim separatist armed group in the region. Prior to BARMM’s creation, MILF did not recognize the local government in the territory, claiming it did not meet the basic needs of the Bangsamoro people.

One missionary, who has been based in BARMM for more than two years, said Muslims and Christians get along in the region except in far-flung localities inhabited by militants who do not recognize normalized relations with the Philippine government. The missionary, who asked not to be named, noted there are still ISIS-affiliated groups in the area, which poses a threat to peace and stability.

He believes the MILF still aims to turn the island of Mindanao into an Islamic state with a broader agenda to convert every Filipino to Islam. “They won’t say it publicly because it will be politically incorrect,” he said. “But we need to understand their agenda for the future: If we Christians have the Great Commission, they have a comparable aim.”

The Philippines’ Muslim population has increased in recent years, boosted by converts from Christianity to Islam, known as Balik-Islam, which means “return to Islam.”

As evidenced in predominantly Muslim countries, the missionary noted, sharia is integrated into society. When fully implemented, it prevents Muslims from converting to other faiths. This is currently not the case in the Philippines.

A missionary who has served for 26 years in southern Philippinessaid that in her area, which she asked not to disclose, Muslim leaders are asking for Islamic teachings to be integrated into the curriculum, even for Christian schools. She had also seen fellow missionaries beaten as they evangelized to Muslims.

The expansion of sharia law is “alarming,” said the missionary, who asked not to be named for security reasons. “Gradually but surely, they [aim to] establish their belief and teachings on sharia law,” she said, noting that non-Islamic faiths are given “limited religious rights.”

In Davao City, Lakan Sumulong, an evangelical theologian and founder of the Mennonite-supported Peace Builders Community, believes some evangelicals’ concern about the expansion of sharia court is driven by “ignorance, prejudice, discriminatory attitude, [and] Islamophobia.” Having spent time with the MILF in 2016, he found Muslims to beaccepting of his Christian belief system.

“I lived among them,” he said, “I understand how sharia is implemented.” Sharia codifies Islamic laws in the areas of marriage, divorce, and inheritance and only applies in cases when both spouses are Muslims. It operates under the Philippines’ judiciary system, and its courts do not handle criminal cases.

“Because we Christians are in the majority like in America … our religiosity has an imperialist nature,” Sumulong said. “When it comes to minorities like Muslims here in the Philippines, it’s as if we don’t care about their rights.”

He noted that evangelicals should be more concerned about the Philippines’ justice system, “which came from the Spaniards [and] Americans [and] is not working out for the whole Philippines. The justice system of the Philippines is only for the rich.”

The creation of sharia courts in 1977 did little to provide Muslims access to judicial services, according to a 2012 study by legal scholar Gregory Chiarella. “The sharia courts are understaffed and underutilized,” he noted. He recommended legal changes to “increase knowledge of and access to” sharia courts, as well as “an increase in the use of customary law, and for the creation of more leadership roles for Muslims.”

Rey Corpuz, the former head of the Philippine Missions Association and a Filipino Christian scholar in Islamic studies, also cited the shortcomings of the 1977 law. For example, if a Muslim in the northern Philippines needed to settle a concern about inheritance or divorce, he would need to travel to the southern part of the country for a sharia court to hear his case. “Your access to justice is too far,” he added.

Currently based in Abu Dhabi, capital of the United Arab Emirates, Corpuz said Muslims around the world have laws guiding their personal life. Marcos Sr.’s 1977 law created the court system to deal with those issues, and now it is simply being expanded. He noted that it wouldn’t impact Christians living in those areas.

“Back in the ’70s, ’80s, maybe even ’90s, the concentration of most of our Muslim brothers and sisters was there in Mindanao,” Corpuz said. Today, that’s no longer the case. Corpuz said some evangelicals’ concern about the new law stems from their view of the Philippines as a nation with a single dominant faith tradition.

Yet a democracy should be pluralistic. He believes the government should promote unity as a nation where we “come together underneath the banner of justice, righteousness, and fairness as a nation.”

“There are 10 million Muslims in the Philippines, and we say we are a Christian nation and the Philippines is for Jesus,” noted Corpuz. “How about the Muslims?”

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Ideas

The Work of Love Is Always Before Us

Matthew Loftus

If Donald Trump’s victory has you worried about the vulnerable, you can do something more—and better—than posting about it.

Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Getty

For many Americans, the results of our recent election inspired some measure of despair, fear, and anger. Sometimes these reactions come out online as threats to cut off relationships with family and friends who voted for Republicans. But, better channeled, I sometimes see them come out as expressions of concern for the vulnerable, often specified as immigrants and women facing unplanned pregnancies. Many minds are working to describe the ways people could be hurt by simultaneous GOP control of the White House and both houses of Congress.

It’s important to note that many of these worries may prove unfounded. President-elect Donald Trump is notoriously unpredictable. True, he has declared his interest in doing a lot of terrible things, and some genuinely terrible things happened during his first term, like the dismantlement of refugee resettlement in the US. But many of his ambitions will likely be about as successful as building the wall and making Mexico pay for it.

That said, whatever happens with Trump, the task before Christians making these statements remains the same: Take your concern on behalf of vulnerable people and turn it toward genuine solidarity and care.

Few vulnerable people are interested in what you post about them on the internet, and fewer still have any stake in the personal relationships you might cut off on their behalf. Almost all are more interested in tangible love, just like the rest of us. As James wrote, “Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,’ but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?” (2:15–16).

Vigorous policy debates are good and necessary, yet for most of us, most of the time, our opinions matter much less than our love, put to work (1 Cor. 13:1). It is hardly a virtue to have opinions that are stronger than relationships, but the hard work of loving others is always before us.

So if the election’s result made you feel crushed on behalf of vulnerable people, the most important questions to ask yourself are these: What could you have been doing for vulnerable people before November 5? Has the election changed that? What can you do now that will be a blessing to others regardless of what happens in Washington over the next four years? How can you, to borrow the words of W. H. Auden, “love your crooked neighbor / With your crooked heart”?

When it comes to immigration, many worry that aggressive deportations of those without legal status, as Trump has promised, will lead to traumatic family separations and perhaps the accidental deportation of legal migrants or even citizens. The government already deports several thousand people every month, of course, and Trump’s much-larger-scale plan faces massive legal and logistical hurdles.

Whatever happens, there are many ways that you can be a blessing to vulnerable migrants. If there are local organizations that help to resettle refugees or provide services to immigrants, contact them and ask how you can volunteer. Signing up to open your home and provide foster care is also an incredibly valuable service, as children (whether they are American citizens or otherwise) often require a home if their parents’ legal status is in jeopardy. Helping to care for foster children will always be one of the best ways to do good, irrespective of Oval Office hijinks.

As for women with unplanned and unwanted pregnancies, here too the future is unclear. Trump has forced the Republican Party to accept a “state’s rights” framing of abortion law since the overturn of 1973’s Roe v. Wade several years ago, and Trump’s nominee to head the Department of Health and Human Services, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., is extremely pro-choice. Pro-lifers lost more state referendums than we won this year, and some “victories” were hardly decisive (such as Florida’s Amendment 4, in which only 43 percent of the vote was pro-life.)

With little hope that there will be federal action to prevent abortions, our focus as believers should be on building communities of character where women who are considering abortions—now fully legal in more than half of states—can meet Christians who are able to help them care for their children both before birth and beyond. If we are worried about vulnerable women, we can offer them practical help. And as with immigration, foster care will always be relevant, no matter who’s in power.

I don’t make these recommendations in the abstract. My family and I moved to Africa years ago to provide medical care to people in need while equipping African health professionals to become missionaries themselves. Some of my African friends and colleagues have become refugees after their homes were destroyed and their families killed, and I fear that the Trump administration will (among other possibilities) make it harder for them to start a new life in America.

But beyond calling my congressman and senator every now and then, there’s little I can do about the federal politics responsible for my worries. What I can do is keep going with the work that God called me to do—and keep praying that the Lord who “has brought down rulers from their thrones” and “lifted up the humble” (Luke 1:52) will keep doing good to those who fear him.

Matthew Loftus lives with his family in Kenya, where he teaches and practices family medicine. You can learn more about his work and writing at MatthewAndMaggie.org.

- More from Matthew Loftus

Culture

Flame Raps the Sacraments

Gretchen Ronnevik

Now that he’s Lutheran, the rapper’s music has changed along with his theology.

Nearly 15 years ago, Christian hip-hop artist Flame put out his first solo album, Captured. Since then, the Grammy- and Dove-nominated artist has released nine more records.

But not all those records have come from the same theology.

That’s because Flame, once a Reformed Baptist, is now part of the Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod, a shift he made apparent in 2020 with his album Extra Nos (Latin for “outside of ourselves”).

Since then, he’s put out Christ for You on the Lord’s Supper and Word and Water on baptism, both riffing on the Lutheran understanding of those sacraments. Flame also collaborated with other Lutheran artists on the album Freedom Lessons, explaining Martin Luther’s Small Catechism. His 2024 album is called Neo Ethos.

Lutheran Brethren writer Gretchen Ronnevik interviewed Flame about his denominational change and the impact it’s had on his music. Their conversation has been edited for clarity and length, and song lyrics have been inserted by the editor throughout.

You recently moved from Reformed theology to Lutheran theology. What was that process like?

I went to Concordia Seminary in St. Louis in 2016. After I graduated in 2018, I took a year off to work through everything, trying to see if the ideas would hold outside of an academic environment. I thought, I’ve seen the best answers and the brightest minds—let me see how this works out in the wild, talk to a lot of people outside of the Lutheran space, ask questions. That’s really when it became clear that I couldn’t unsee what I’d seen.

What was the tipping point for you?

Two things: sacraments and the universal atonement.

[Interviewer’s note: Calvinists believe that Jesus died only for the elect. Lutherans believe that Jesus died for the whole world (universal atonement) and yet only the elect will believe and be saved. This is different from universalism, which proclaims salvation for all people regardless of belief.]

The tipping point was going back through the Scriptures, seeing that Jesus did die for everyone. That was a big deal for me. To be sure, it was the sacraments too. I mean, it was a little bit like a pseudo crisis—it wasn’t dramatic. It was just a disappointment. Why didn’t anybody expose me to the church fathers on these matters?

You’re simply not going to find not one church father that made the confession
That what baptism really is—
An outward sign of an inward expression.
It’s not in the Bible, and Scripture don’t teach it.
American pulpits,
Most people preach it.
Wanna know what baptism really is?
First Peter 3 verse 20, 21,
Go read it.
Baptism saves, remission of sins,
A means of grace to get you cleansed. Faith receives it. Based on Jesus’ work, The ancient church believed it.

—“The Patristics,” Word and Water

How did this theological shift change your career?

I’ve been doing music as a full-time artist since 2004. My entire career has been built around the Reformed Baptist audience. I may have been a little naive; kind of like Luther, I thought everybody was gonna be excited. Everybody loved to talk about Scripture and doctrine and theology. I thought they’d say “This is great! What books are you reading?”

It was the opposite of that. At first, it was stunned silence. In 2020, I put out a project titled Extra Nos. There was no response from my friends, no “We like the project,” “We dislike the project.” Just silence. Pastors, influencers, friends. I’m like, “Man, is this not good? You know, you can tell me that too. I can take that.” It was just silence.

Then the questions start to roll in: “Are you Roman Catholic?” “Have you left Christianity?” People thought the stuff I was saying was an invented Christian sect—a spinoff, like I’d found some weird insights. They were concerned. Maybe an act of love, just trying to be patient, figuring out how to approach me? But I did notice a pulling away. That was stressful—a lot of anxiety, a lot of fear.

But they see the Grammy nomination and the compensation hitting stages with the gang.
But when you push ancient Christianity through Word and sacrament, then you see people change.
Dang!
I really thought they would hallelujah.
The closest to ya will cock-and-shoot ya.
Standing too close to Dr. Luther.

—“Another Man’s Shoes,” Neo Ethos

I still didn’t get a sense of the cost, though. I didn’t think it would be dramatic, that churches would stop bringing me out. Over time I started to see a little of that—people pulled out financially or wouldn’t invite me to their events. Now, they’re like, “We don’t know what Flame is going to say”—which I respect [their desire to watch over what their church is teaching].

Did it shift the purpose of your art when you shifted theology?

I was one of the guys at the helm of the Young, Restless, Reformed movement. The Cross Movement hip-hop group, the Acts 29 church-planting network—we all just sort of met each other at the same time. We brought John Calvin back from the grave, I like to say.

I thought this would be more of the same. People would hear theology and Scripture being discussed in the music and say, “Man, let’s consider this.” My goal has always been to connect the dots between Scripture, theology, and everyday experience. I felt like Lutheran thought was perfect for that. I’m like, “Man, these are answers we sought.”

I see scattered tulips.
Come with me; I’ll show you what I found.
I be diggin’ in the text. Funny what you find when you low to the ground.

—“Scattered Tulips,” Extra Nos

We had huge divides within the Christian rap genre: “Are you a Christian rapper or a rapper who’s Christian?” Christian rappers are the more “holy” expression. Rappers who are Christian are just positive and less bold about their faith. I’m thinking, “Man, guys. Luther, the doctrine of vocation—we can validate both of these!” I thought this insight would provide a path to think about what we do. But my new theology was the wall that I put up between myself and everybody else. That’s what I came to realize.

Is there anything you miss from Reformed spaces?

Yes. What the Reformed folks have done exceptionally well is create an appetite in the layperson for Scripture and theology. They love to talk Scripture. They love to talk theology. We would stay up late for hours in a restaurant, just talking. None of these people are ordained. They’re just churchgoers. They had the John MacArthur Study Bible, or Wayne Grudem’s Systematic Theology, or Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion, or the Puritans. I miss that.

I think a lot of the people I meet now maybe take our theology for granted. Some may not even reference our confessional books—that kind of thing. That’s a noticeable difference.

And there’s a different kind of energy. In Reformed circles, everybody’s always talking about being “on fire for the Lord.” It’s this passion to make sure everyone hears about Jesus and the gospel. I like that. I think that’s a healthy human reaction to something you’re excited about, especially the gospel, you know?

You just put out a new album, Neo Ethos. What does that mean?

Neo is “new” and ethos is “the spirit of the day.”

The mindset behind the title was comparing these two moods or spirits, if you will. One was this ancient church expression of creeds and confessions in the Word of God and sacraments and tying things back to the patristics and apostolic fathers, this appreciation of church history. That’s the old way, which is good and healthy and rich.

The new way would be more consistent with what you get from the Anabaptists, the Zwinglians, and certain versions of the Calvinist movement—they all made their way to the Americas, and they overthrew so much of that stuff: “You don’t need the church calendar, candles, liturgy, infant baptism, or crosses with Jesus on them.”

Now, here we are, with this expression of Christianity that does have that fire and that freedom and that passion to get the Word out there. But with this new ethos, this new spirit, we’ve also left behind good things, good truth, good teaching and doctrine, that should undergird that passion and energy. I want to compare these two expressions of Christianity.

Gretchen Ronnevik is the author of Ragged: Spiritual Disciplines for the Spiritually Exhausted and cohost of the Freely Given podcast.

- More from Gretchen Ronnevik

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