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The pain doesn’t start with the gunshots. It begins long before, in the quiet places where children sleep, where mothers hum lullabies, and where faith keeps fragile communities together through the darkness.

It arrives without warning, slipping through broken windows and across scorched earth, settling over Nigeria’s heart like a shadow that refuses to lift. This darkness goes beyond human conflict. It is a spiritual assault aimed at silencing believers and extinguishing the light of Christ wherever it shines.

Take little Ruth, a child who should have known only love and laughter. When Fulani militants stormed her village, Ruth’s mother, Hannatu, pleaded for mercy. The attackers tore Ruth from her mother’s arms, killed Hannatu instantly, and left the infant in the mud.

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