This piece spotlights the brutal persecution of Christians in Nigeria, the personal survival and faith of two young women, and why President Donald Trump’s stance to stop aid and consider intervention matters. It follows the escape and resettlement of Joy Bishara and Lydia Pogu, their rise as advocates, and a call for Americans, especially faith communities and leaders, to act decisively for religious freedom. The facts are stark, the stories are personal, and the demand for moral clarity is urgent.
As a Christian and a university president, I believe no one ought to be targeted for following Jesus, especially after He warned, “If they persecuted me, they will persecute you” (John 15:20). Seeing faith punished through violence is more than a news item; it’s an affront to our conscience and our values. When believers lose their lives for worship and conviction, silence is not an option.
President Donald Trump has said the United States will not quietly watch Christians be murdered abroad, and he’s put concrete pressure on policy to reflect that view. He has proposed pausing foreign aid to regimes that tolerate religious violence and asked the Pentagon to examine options to protect innocent people. That is the kind of decisive posture conservatives respect: moral clarity backed by policy muscle.
The story of Joy Bishara and Lydia Pogu brings the crisis into human focus. Both were among girls kidnapped by Boko Haram in 2014 when militants attacked a school, burning classrooms and forcing terrified students into trucks. Many of those girls never returned to their families; some fled and survived by courage and chance.
During their capture, Joy cried out in a moment of raw desperation, praying, “If You save me,” she prayed, “I will follow You.” That prayer hung in the night and then turned to action when she felt compelled to jump from the truck. Injured and haunted, Joy ran into darkness; Lydia followed, both trusting something larger than fear.
They were eventually relocated to the United States and enrolled in a Christian high school where they slowly rebuilt their lives and faith. When choices about college and future careers came, pressure from authorities in Nigeria tried to steer them away from paths rooted in their convictions. They refused to be redirected away from what they believed and risked everything to stay true to their faith.
We learned of Joy and Lydia at Southeastern University and offered them full scholarships so they could study in an environment that values faith and freedom. Joy chose social work to help others heal from trauma, and Lydia went into legal studies to defend the voiceless. Watching them grow into leaders convinced me that investing in survivors is investing in the future of religious liberty.
Their voices reached beyond classrooms. They were invited to speak before international leaders, bringing testimony that demanded action, not just sympathy. Meeting President Trump was a powerful affirmation for them and a visible signal that America can and should stand for persecuted believers.
Violence against Christians in Nigeria is not a minor statistic; reports peg the toll at over 7,000 lives lost in just the opening months of a single year, with churches burned and communities uprooted. While the conflict is tangled with politics and economics, the pattern of attacks on people for their faith is unmistakable. Nigeria has become one of the most dangerous places on Earth to follow Jesus.
That reality should shape U.S. policy. We must tie aid to protections for religious freedom, back strong measures against those who facilitate persecution, and empower international partners who will act. Americans who value liberty and faith cannot shrug off governments that allow their citizens to be slaughtered for what they believe.
The church has a role beyond policy lobbying: we must educate, pray, and prepare leaders who understand the stakes of religious freedom. Institutions of learning and houses of worship should teach young people about the courage shown by survivors and train them to stand for truth in public life. Courage is contagious when it is modeled and supported.
Joy and Lydia did not let trauma define them, and their lives are proof that faith can be forged into service and advocacy. Their examples call for clear political will and cultural resolve to defend the persecuted. For conservatives who believe in freedom, this is the kind of test that demands we act with conviction and courage.
