Solidarity and Justice: A Movement Born at the Crossroads

Solidarity and Justice: A Movement Born at the Crossroads

Daniel Bannoura shares his message at the 2025 Church at the Crossroads Conference. (Photo by Matt Mansueto)

Last week just outside Chicago, something remarkable happened. More than 800 people—both in person and online—gathered for the Church at the Crossroads Conference, sponsored by the Bethlehem Institute of Peace and Justice. This wasn’t simply another Christian conference; it was a prophetic gathering. It was a moment where the global church stood at a crossroads, confronted by the suffering of Gaza and the West Bank, and asked: What will we do?

Christians from every corner of the church came together—Palestinians, Black Americans, Caucasians, Latine, First Nations, Asians, Evangelicals, mainline Protestants, Catholics, and Orthodox. The message was urgent: the gospel demands that we see, that we care, and that we act. This was not a space for silence or sentimentality—it was a call to courage.

Dr. Daniel Bannoura captured the heart of the gathering when he said the goal was to “educate, agitate, and organize.” This was not a passive conference; it was a commissioning.

Dr. Munther Isaac opened with a bold, unflinching message: the credibility of the gospel is on the line. Support for genocide cannot coexist with Christian faith. If the gospel is not good news to everyone, it is not good news at all. Speaker after speaker called the church to wake up from complacency and reclaim its prophetic voice. The message was clear: stop speculating about what Jesus might do in some imagined future scenario and start doing what He commanded now—to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.

Rev. Munther Isaac, giving a powerful message on the opening day of the conference. (Photo by Yasmine El-Sabawi / MEE)

Through the story of Naboth’s Vineyard (1 Kings 21), Dr. Lamma Mansour and Dr. Gary Burge exposed the systems of power that still conspire to dispossess and dehumanize. King Ahab and his wife, Jezebel, wanted Naboth’s land so they conspired against him to falsely accuse him of wrongdoing so he could be killed by his neighbors and his land stolen. They challenged us to identify the “enablers,” “orchestrators,” and “compliant” in our world today—and to refuse to play their game.

Solidarity with our Palestinian brothers and sisters was the lifeblood of the conference. Jemar Tisby reminded us, “We may not be able to stop the suffering, but we can make sure they don’t suffer alone.” Lamma Mansour added, “Systems of domination want us not to pay attention. Our capacity to pay attention is our capacity to love.”

Photo by Mercy Aiken

One evening was set aside for a night of Palestinian culture—dabke dancing, music, and kanafe. There were tears, but also laughter. As Sandra van Opstal said, “I see hope in a world where there’s not much to hope for.”

Palestinian Dabke. (Photo by Mercy Aiken)

Every session was infused with urgency and hope. Andrew DeCort summed it up well: “Every speaker affirmed an explicit, emphatic commitment to nonviolence… affirmed human dignity and condemned dehumanization… [and] Jesus was the center of this resolute commitment to nonviolence and human dignity.”

This was not just a conference; it was a movement. Participants didn’t simply leave with notes—they left with marching orders. At the final session, a worldwide declaration was read aloud, answering the call of Palestinian Christians for solidarity and justice. This declaration is now circulating globally, calling the church to listen, mourn, repent, and take up the work of peace with courage and faith.

We invite you to stand with us. Read and endorse the declaration at churchatthecrossroads.com/declaration. Share it with your congregation, your networks, your friends. Start the hard conversations in your own communities. The gospel calls us to do more than mourn—it calls us to act. The Church at the Crossroads Conference was passionate, prophetic, and profoundly unsettling in the best possible way. It was a reminder that the church still has a voice, and that voice must cry out for justice—now.

Photo by Mercy Aiken