21/04/2026
I grew up watching people die for their faith.
In Northern Nigeria, where I was born and raised, the question of Christian survival is not an abstract theological exercise. It is written in burned churches, displaced families, and graves that should not exist. I have seen communities that prayed on Sunday and buried their dead by Wednesday. I have heard the arguments — whispered at first, then spoken openly — that perhaps the church needs to arm itself, that perhaps the time for turning the other cheek has passed, that perhaps the God who told His people to fight in the Old Testament would understand if His people picked up the sword again today.
And I have wrestled with those arguments. Honestly. Not from a safe distance, but from the inside of a faith that has cost people I love everything they had.
The tension felt unbearable. On one side stood the Lord I had surrendered my life to — the Lord who told Peter to put his sword away, who said that those who live by the sword will die by it, who declared before Pilate that if His Kingdom were of this world His servants would fight. On the other side stood the undeniable reality of my brothers and sisters in Northern Nigeria, in the Middle East, in East Africa — bleeding, fleeing, dying — while the church seemed to have no answer beyond endure and pray.
I needed to know: is endurance all we have? Is the church of the living God simply waiting to be exterminated, hoping that a future rescue will arrive before there is nothing left to rescue?
This book is the answer I found. And it is not the answer of resignation.
What I discovered, as I pressed into the scriptures with these questions burning in me, is that the Kingdom of God operates by a logic so fundamentally different from the kingdoms of this world that most of us have never fully reckoned with it.
