PESHAWAR

I live in Peshawar — a city where history breathes through every stone and shadow. Once the heart of the ancient Gandhara kingdom, this land still holds echoes of old temples and caravan routes that carried traders, travelers, and teachers from India to Persia. Today, the air is filled with the scent of green tea and dust, the call to prayer rising against the backdrop of distant mountains. Peshawar stands at the edge of Pakistan, a gateway to Afghanistan — and to countless stories of faith, war, and resilience.

Our people here are strong and proud. The Pashtuns carry a deep code of honor — hospitality, courage, and loyalty. Yet life is hard. Poverty and instability press on many families, and fear lingers after decades of conflict. Refugees crowd the city’s edges, bringing both hope and heartbreak from across the border. Amid all this, faith remains the lifeline — though for those of us who follow Jesus, that faith must often be lived quietly, under pressure, behind closed doors.

Still, the Church endures. Small gatherings meet in homes, and prayers rise in whispers — yet those prayers carry power. We have seen miracles, forgiveness, and the courage to love where hatred should have won. Peshawar is scarred but not silent. I believe God has marked this city as more than a battlefield — it will be a bridge. Where armies once marched, peace will walk. Where blood once fell, living water will flow.