Bearing witness: solidarity as ministry
Photograph by Brett Wharton via Unsplash
Nathan Perrin
“You didn’t have to do this,” said the officer as he zip tied my hands around my back. “Christians obey the law.”
It was a hot June afternoon in front of the AIPAC building in Chicago. Sweat beaded off my face and red paint was splattered on my maroon button-up shirt. Mennonite Action Chicago, the group I do my activism work with, staged a die-in to protest the genocide in Gaza. This was my second time that year being arrested for my convictions. In Washington, DC, I gathered with 150 Mennonites in the Cannon House Office rotunda and sang hymns demanding peace.
For many of my clergy peers, these actions were perceived to be unnecessary or antisemitic. As a Christian pastor, this has been nearly a lifelong struggle for me to get the Christian community to care how bad theology and foreign policy is affecting vulnerable communities both locally and globally.
In 2017, upon returning from a delegation to Iraqi Kurdistan, I discovered quickly that the broader Christian community wanted to sweep these issues under the rug (progressive folks included). This lack of empathy led to a profoundly frustrating season of ministry. The lack of willingness to even consider how our actions affect our Muslim neighbors spoke to me about how shallow North American Christianity has become.
When I was accepted more in evangelical circles, I sat in settings with other pastors where the wars in the Middle East were blamed on a lack of understanding the Trinity, demons, Muslims, Biblical prophecy, but never the American Church’s own actions. It was an odd and bewildering experience.
When October 7 happened, I reflected on who I am doing my solidarity work for. I reflected on the many shortcomings and challenges I faced in organizing the church. In more progressive Christian circles, I saw a rush to the streets when George Floyd was killed — but little to no response when the genocide began. I was instantly brought back to that place of despair briefly.
The best way to be Christian in this current moment of political crisis requires the courage to bear witness to the suffering of vulnerable people. We can’t afford to be on the sidelines.
Then I realized, in part, that my focus was wrong. The point of solidarity was not to solely convict the church, but to comfort the afflicted. It came down to one question: what was I doing to be present for my Muslim and Palestinian neighbors during their trauma? I found out I was doing next to nothing in that moment.
My solidarity switched from cafe activism to speaking at townhalls alongside Palestinian activists. It switched to simply showing up at Palestinian-led protests and being taught by them on how to be family for one another during a crisis. Many Palestinians have shared with me that Mennonite Action Chicago’s presence on the streets matter because it reminds them that not all white Christians are apathetic to their suffering. To be arrested, to march, to sing songs with one another, to share in an iftar meal — that’s what solidarity is, and most of all it’s a part of simply being faithful to the way of Jesus.
The best way to be Christian in this current moment of political crisis requires the courage to bear witness to the suffering of vulnerable people. We can’t afford to be on the sidelines. The Gospel of liberation and justice needs to be proclaimed loudly through our lives. We are called to weep with those who weep. In an era of self-centeredness and hatred, the Gospel is most loudly proclaimed in the intentional choice of faithful Christians breaking bread with their Muslim neighbors.
In twenty or so years, when I reflect on this era of activism, I know for sure I won’t be thinking much of my arrests or the protests I helped organize. Rather, I’ll be thinking about the courage I’ve seen in my Palestinian and Muslim friends who stepped up for all of humanity. It’s beautiful work that’s encouraged me to be a better Christian and ally. The warmth and love of the relationships I’ve developed over this past year and a half truly encourages my spirit and gives me strength to keep going.
Being a Quaker-influenced Mennonite also means I am foolish enough to believe that the world can be a better place. I pray all Christians become equally foolish too and accept the invitation to an Eid celebration every year. Jesus waits for us there.
Nathan Perrin (he/him/his) is a writer and Anabaptist pastor in Chicagoland. He holds an MA in Quaker Studies and is a doctoral student studying Christian Community Development at Northern Seminary. His doctorate work centers on creating a writing program for nonprofits and churches to use to help under-resourced communities process trauma. His work has been published in the Dillydoun Review, Bangalore Review, Collateral Journal, Esoterica Magazine, etc. His forthcoming novella Memories of Green Rivers will be released in winter 2026 by Running Wild Press. He is also a screenwriter. For more information, visit www.nathanperrinwriter.com
The views expressed are those of the author and not necessarily those of American Baptist Home Mission Societies.
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