Where is the outrage?

I saw the number this morning and I had to stop what I was doing.

One hundred and fifty-seven.

That’s how many Nigerian Christians were killed during and after Holy Week this year — our brothers and sisters, slaughtered in their own villages while the rest of us were picking out Easter outfits and planning brunch.

And we barely heard a word about it.

Stay with me, this isn’t me trying to guilt you for celebrating Easter. I celebrated it too. The resurrection is the greatest news in human history, and we should be shouting it from the rooftops. But while you and I were gathering with our families on a peaceful Sunday morning, Christians in places like Plateau, Benue, Kaduna, and Taraba states were burying their children.

They were attacked for one reason and one reason only: they confess Jesus Christ.

Let me put this in perspective.

According to International Christian Concern, Fulani militias killed more than 200 Nigerians in the weeks spanning Palm Sunday through Easter, with 157 of those victims confirmed as Christians. Entire villages were targeted. Families wiped out. Homes burned to the ground.

Here’s what they’re reporting from the field:

The violence began on Palm Sunday, when gunmen stormed the Ungwan Rukuba community near Jos and opened fire, killing at least 27 residents. Over Easter weekend, attackers struck Benue state’s Mbalom community, killing 17 Christians in a pre-dawn ambush. A week later, Fulani militants raided Mbwelle village in Plateau state at 11 p.m., spraying homes with gunfire for nearly an hour.

Eight members of a single family — the Dakus — were killed in that one night.

Since Palm Sunday, ICC has now documented over 200 deaths in central Nigeria, 157 of them Christian.

Let me say that again, because I think it got lost in the numbers.

Eight members. Of one family. In one night. Because they confessed Jesus.

Their names, per Morningstar News, were Iliya, Luck, Habila, Hassan, another Hassan, Biggie, Sunday, and Innocent. Eight image-bearers of God, gone in less than an hour.

And here’s the line that’s been wrecking me all morning. A pastor in the aftermath said this:

“Lord, how long shall we endure this suffering and persecution?”

— Pastor Nansen John

Lord, how long.

I don’t have a clean answer to Pastor John’s question. Neither does anyone else. But I know this — the answer is NOT “until the American church notices.”

That’s the part that’s getting to me.

Where is the outrage?

If 157 climate activists had been killed in a single weekend, every Democratic senator would be on the Sunday shows. If 157 journalists had been killed, the New York Times would clear the front page for a week. If 157 of any other protected class had died together, we’d be hearing about it on a loop until Thanksgiving.

One hundred and fifty-seven Christians were killed in a single week — and I had to dig to find a single major American outlet that covered it in any meaningful way.

That tells you everything you need to know about where the global church sits in the priorities of the people shaping our news cycle.

So here’s what you can do today.

First — pray. Not a quick “God bless Nigeria” on your way out the door. Stop what you’re doing right now. Pray for the widows and orphans of Plateau, Benue, and Kaduna. Pray for Pastor Nansen John and for every pastor still showing up to preach on Sundays in villages that have become kill zones. Pray for the Fulani attackers themselves — that the Holy Spirit would break through and turn swords into plowshares.

Second — talk about it. Share this post. Tell one other Christian what happened. When the mainstream media refuses to carry the story, the Church becomes the press. That’s always been true, and it’s true today.

Third — support the work. Organizations like International Christian Concern, Open Doors, and Barnabas Aid are on the ground delivering food, medical care, and legal advocacy to persecuted believers. A $20 gift from each of us goes a long way.

And fourth — hold this truth close: the enemy thought the grave was the end of our story. It wasn’t. It never is. Every one of those 157 is with Jesus right now, and not even the Fulani could take that from them.

Pastor John, if you ever read this — we see you. We see the Dakus family. We see the mourners in Mbalom and Ungwan Rukuba and every village drenched in martyrs’ blood this month. We are praying. We are lifting your names before the throne. And we believe, with everything we are, that Jesus is keeping count.

Sound off in the comments below — what has God put on your heart reading this? And please, share this with another believer today. They need to know too.