Discussions about war and violence often focus on immediate solutions: how to stop the bloodshed, how to negotiate a ceasefire, how to restore order. While these are necessary conversations, they often fail to address the deeper systems that enable and perpetuate violence. This is why nonviolent co-resistance does not simply seek to end war but aims to dismantle the very systems that make violence seem inevitable.

When reflecting on familiar biblical passages like Matthew 28:19 or Acts 14:21, I've long wrestled with subtle yet profound implications of translation choices. In particular, I've been considering the Greek verb often translated into English as "make disciples." Common English translations such as "make disciples of all nations" shift the focus onto measurable outcomes—how many disciples have been successfully "made." This interpretation, however, places the evaluation of faithfulness and obedience on the actions and decisions of others, which are ultimately beyond our control.

When I became a follower of Jesus, everything changed. My citizenship, my allegiance, my purpose. I no longer belonged to the kingdoms of this world. I was transferred from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of light. A kingdom that doesn’t operate by the rules of power or control or violence. A kingdom that looks like Jesus. But I’ll be honest. The more I advocate for Palestinians, the more I speak out against injustice, the easier it is for me to lose sight of Jesus. I get angry. I get bitter. I feel rage. And if I’m not careful, I stop reflecting the kingdom of Jesus and start reflecting the kingdoms of this world.

And that’s not the path I want to be on.

This summer at the Christ at the Checkpoint Conference in Palestine, I heard so many stories full of so much pain. But the thing is, I didn’t experience any of the events told in the stories. And when this happens, there are two possible responses. One response is to say, “well that didn’t happen to me, so why should I care?” Another response is to feel the pain as if it were my own and weep.

Why am I going to Christ at the Checkpoint (CATC) 2024? On the one hand, this is a simple question to answer. I’m going to CATC because I have accepted the invitation to journey to the other side of the wall to stand in solidarity with Palestinians. On the other hand, the answer requires a bit of personal history…