The Night was everyday. The scent of daal and freshly baked roti stuffed the tiny, two-home dwelling the place Anwar Masih lived along with his wife and two youngsters. Laughter echoed as his youngest daughter, Sara, recounted a Tale from school. It had been a straightforward, sacred second of peace—an https://thirstyforgodchurch.blogspot.com/2025/09/Help-Christians-in-Pakistan-Stand-with-the-Persecuted.html
A Household's Cry: The Human Expense Of Blasphemy Rules in Pakistan
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