It is hard to stay silent when injustice is so deliberate, so cruel, and so shamelessly cloaked in the misuse of religion. Once again, in Gujranwala, a Christian family has been robbed not only of their home but of their dignity — and the world looks on as fear replaces faith and silence replaces justice.
Sarwar Masih, a lifelong resident of his neighborhood, says his home was snatched away by a powerful man — a lawyer who used his influence not through fair legal means, but by turning faith itself into a weapon. As if stealing a family’s home was not enough, the intruders went on to hang religious banners over the door, plastering the walls with Qur’anic verses and images of the Kaaba. It was a performance — a message to every frightened Christian around: “Don’t resist, or you’ll be branded a blasphemer.”
Neighbors were warned that if those sacred symbols were even touched, their entire Christian colony would be set ablaze. Imagine that — generations-old homes filled with children and elders — all threatened in the name of religion, to justify theft and power. The cruelty of it defies words. It’s not faith that fuels acts like these; it’s arrogance and impunity hiding behind the mask of religion.
The Masih family insists they were never even informed of the court proceedings that supposedly justified this outrage. They were denied their voice, denied a hearing, and denied basic justice. And now they watch as those who took everything from them boast openly, unafraid, because they know how this system works — they know religion can be twisted into a weapon of silence.
Pakistan’s blasphemy laws, meant to preserve respect for religion, have become the easiest way to destroy lives. A mere whisper of accusation can wreck an entire family. The fear is so deep, so pervasive, that even law enforcement stands by, unwilling to risk their own safety or position. In Gujranwala, as this grotesque scene unfolded, the police stood there watching — not protectors of peace, but spectators of injustice.
This isn’t just about one family or one stolen home. It’s about every marginalized voice that trembles each time religion is invoked to settle personal scores. When will this end? When will those who preach equality and justice make it real for every citizen, not just the powerful majority?
The government of Punjab — the entire state machinery — must act now. Justice delayed is injustice multiplied. Protect the Masih family, restore their home, investigate those responsible, and show by action—not words—that this nation’s minorities are citizens, not victims.
The Christian community in Pakistan has borne more than enough generations of fear, suspicion, and humiliation. Yet they remain, steadfast and faithful, rooted in the soil of a land that rarely protects them. It’s time to call this what it is: persecution wrapped in hypocrisy. And it’s time, long past time, to end it.