You have faced repeated threats and attacks over the years because of your work. What has kept you steadfast in continuing your advocacy despite the risks? 

I am not a defender of faith, freedom, and justice by choice; rather, I have an inherent instinct to do this work, which I continue to pursue to this day. Many factors have kept me steadfast in my advocacy despite the risks and threats I have faced both in Pakistan and here in Sri Lanka. Since arriving in Sri Lanka in August 2016, people have continued to approach me for help in various ways. One driving force is my passion to rescue lives at risk. 

My rescue work began with an experience that deeply impacted me: helping my cousin, Martha Bibi, a blasphemy survivor, escape Pakistan. She was booked under blasphemy charges in January 2007 and was eventually resettled in the USA through the UNHCR system in Sri Lanka. Her case inspired me to reflect on Acts 23:12–24, where the Apostle Paul was the target of a deadly conspiracy. It was Paul’s unnamed nephew—an otherwise unknown figure—who discovered the plot and acted bravely to save Paul’s life. This biblical account reminds me that even those working behind the scenes can play a crucial role in God’s greater mission. 

Another such example is the case of Nadeem Samson, a Christian man from Lahore, Pakistan, who was arrested in 2017 on blasphemy charges after allegedly posting blasphemous content on Facebook. He has always denied the allegations, stating that a fake Facebook account was created in his name to falsely implicate him. His brother, Shakeel Anjum, a Pakistani-American citizen, contacted me seeking both legal and advocacy support. I assisted by providing legal counsel and raising Nadeem’s case through the media. Although Shakeel eventually engaged a lawyer, he continued to consult me throughout the process. With persistence and strategic advocacy, he successfully secured his brother’s bail from the Supreme Court of Pakistan and eventually helped him relocate to safety. This is just one of several cases where we have supported individuals falsely accused under blasphemy laws. 

During my time as a refugee, I also witnessed disparities within the international protection system. In Sri Lanka, particularly after the 2019 Easter bombings, I observed how the Ahmadiyya Muslim community received expedited interviews and resettlement under special quotas from countries like Australia, New Zealand, and the UK. When members of the persecuted Christian community asked why their cases were delayed, UNHCR officials openly acknowledged that quotas had been allocated specifically for the Ahmadiyya community—this was stated on record. However, it is important to note that officials also clarified that the United States does not have any such special resettlement quota for the Ahmadiyya; the U.S. refugee program is based on individual protection needs rather than community-specific quotas. More recently, I heard present U.S. President Donald Trump, in his address to the United Nations, emphasize that Christians are among the most persecuted religious groups globally and called for their protection. Such recognition is valuable and hopeful, but it must be accompanied by equitable action on the ground. 

I have also heard from members of the Christian refugee and asylum seeker communities that sometimes, in less formal or off-the-record discussions, there is a tendency to characterize advocacy for persecuted Christians as focusing on discrimination rather than on more severe human rights violations. While these conversations are not official statements, they highlight a challenge in fully conveying the extent and gravity of the persecution many Christian faces in Pakistan and elsewhere. From my experience, what is often described as discrimination can have devastating impacts that feel much like a modern form of genocide to those affected. It is also noted that the Ahmadiyya community has strong advocacy support and representation in many Western parliaments, which contributes to differences in attention and resettlement priorities. This disparity was especially evident during the 2019 Easter bombings in Sri Lanka, where Christians were specifically targeted and killed. 

We continue to work here in Sri Lanka, where most Christian asylum requests have been denied. For those whose applications were unsuccessful and who had no option but to return to Pakistan, we assisted by arranging support such as providing air tickets to facilitate their safe return. This work is especially important for the safety of women who came alone with their children. In this way, we have also been deeply involved with the asylum seeker and refugee community in Sri Lanka. I was among the first to provide financial support during the COVID-19 pandemic, particularly when the curfew was lifted for just one day. We helped them directly, and our Christian brothers and sisters from Christian communities—especially in Western countries—also supported us in these efforts. 

Even here in Sri Lanka, we experienced the killing of an asylum seeker in December 2019, with reports indicating that the perpetrator came from Pakistan. Similarly, even in Sri Lanka, I and my family have personally suffered hatred, jealousy, and enmity because of my work and background—especially from some individuals who claim to have converted from Islam and married Christian women in Pakistan. These individuals have shown hostility toward us, and we live with the constant fear of potential attacks from those harboring such hatred. The tragic case of Charlie Kirk, who was murdered by someone claiming a Christian background yet driven by hatred, serves as a sobering reminder that threats can come from unexpected places, and that jealousy and animosity can fuel violence. Despite these challenges, I firmly believe that voices advocating for faith, freedom, and justice—especially for our persecuted Christian brothers and sisters—must remain strong and unwavering, regardless of the hardships or circumstances we face in life, wherever we may be. 

My family remains with me here, and while they are currently out of direct harm’s way, my two brothers—who were also accused in connection with blasphemy-related false allegations—have safely resettled in the USA. Other family members in Pakistan keep a low profile in relation to my work for their safety. It is true that even in Sri Lanka, I face ongoing threats, but my passion for this God-given mission outweighs the risks. 

My steadfastness is ultimately rooted in my faith in Jesus Christ. 

I believe this calling—to stand with the persecuted and defend the voiceless—is not just a career path but a divine mission. The threats and persecution have only strengthened my resolve. When I see the quiet courage of Christian families facing discrimination, bonded laborers worshipping with joy, or children smiling through pain, I am reminded why this work is worth every cost. The Apostle Paul’s life is a constant source of encouragement; like him, I accept that trials are part of the calling to proclaim both justice and the Gospel. 

What case or experience stands out to you as As a human rights lawyer, you have defended some of Pakistan’s most vulnerable communities, including Christian women and bonded laborers. What case or experience stands out to you as particularly defining in your career? 

One of the most defining experiences in my journey as a human rights advocate came from an incident that occurred in May 2005, involving a Muslim man named Ahmed Saeed Minhas. At the time, he was a lecturer at Civil Lines College in Lahore and also happened to be our neighbor—his house stood directly opposite ours. Despite being an educated man, he harbored deep hatred toward my family simply because of our Christian faith and the fact that we were pursuing education. Since my early childhood, he actively tried to block our path, even going so far as to approach our Muslim teachers, offering them money and other incentives to prevent them from teaching me and my elder brother, Zulfiqar Masih. 

Ironically, in May 2005, Ahmed Saeed was himself accused of blasphemy against the Prophet of Islam by his own Muslim friends and by the local mosque cleric, Qari Fiaz Ahmed—who would later rise to national notoriety as a leader of the extremist group Tehreek-e-Labbaik Pakistan (TLP). A violent mob quickly gathered, and his life was in immediate danger. Despite all the harm he had caused us, my brother stepped in to protect him. He physically intervened, pulled him from the mob, and brought him into our home to shield him. This act of grace calmed the situation temporarily. Eventually, under pressure, the professor was made to write an apology letter and was relocated to a safer area. 

With our efforts—and the intervention of his own brother, who held a high-ranking government position—the situation was resolved without an official First Information Report (FIR) being filed, despite police involvement. No legal case proceeded against him. 

From this case, I learned a hard but eye-opening truth: when a Muslim is accused of blasphemy and survives the initial violence, the case can often be resolved quietly on the assumption that a Muslim could not possibly commit blasphemy against the Prophet Muhammad. Their religious identity becomes a shield—an option not available to Christians or other minorities, who are often presumed guilty and face immediate, severe consequences, whether or not any evidence exists. This experience exposed the double standards and deeply ingrained biases within Pakistan’s blasphemy laws and law enforcement system. 

That realization became even more personal and painful two years later. In January 2007, my cousin sister Martha Bibi, a Christian woman, was falsely accused of blasphemy. We were informed about the incident at night, but before we could intervene or offer her any legal protection, the police had already acted. Within that same night, she was arrested, formally booked under blasphemy charges, and transferred to jail—all without any delay or due process. Unlike the case of Ahmed Saeed, there was no pause, no consideration, no space for dialogue—only immediate and harsh action against a vulnerable Christian woman. 

Later, in October 2015, someone created a fake Facebook account in her name and shared blasphemous material online. My family and I were falsely accused in connection with this, which became one of the reasons we were forced to flee Pakistan. 

Sardar Mushtaq Gill 

This stark contrast between how the law is applied based on religious identity has remained etched in my memory. These two cases—one involving a Muslim man protected by status and religious identity, and the other a Christian woman swiftly imprisoned—became the catalyst for my deeper commitment to human rights and my focus on advocating for blasphemy victims, especially from Christian and minority communities. They represent the unjust reality we face and the urgent need for legal reform and international awareness. 

LEAD Ministries has combined human rights advocacy with Gospel outreach and church planting. How do you see the connection between faith and justice in your mission? 

My mission to combine human rights advocacy with Gospel outreach and church planting is rooted in the suffering I have personally endured and witnessed throughout my life as a Christian in Pakistan. For me, faith and justice are inseparable—because it was my faith that brought injustice to my doorstep, and it is my faith that gives me the strength to confront and overcome it. 

One experience that left a lasting impact on me occurred in 1991 when I was studying at Government High School No. 1 in Bhai Pheru. During the extreme summer heat, each classroom had a shared water cooler. While Muslim students freely drank from it, we—only three Christian students in a class of 70—were silently expected not to. One day, one of my Christian classmates drank from the cooler. When our class in-charge arrived, he publicly pulled all three of us out and warned us never to drink from it again. I still remember boldly telling him, “Sir, even if you tell us to drink from a bathroom tap, we won’t drink from that cooler.” He replied that we could drink from any tap—just not from the cooler. That small moment revealed a much larger problem: the systemic and deeply ingrained discrimination against Christians, even in childhood. 

Later, in 1999, after completing my three-year Diploma of Associate Engineering (DAE) in Electrical Engineering, I began searching for a job. I went to a local powerhouse, and the engineer, Mr. Muhammad Imran, was initially impressed by my initiative. He said I was the first person from the area to apply without any political or personal reference and was willing to hire me. But when he saw my documents and recognized from my name—Mushtaq Masih Gill—that I was a Christian, his tone changed. He told me he personally had no issue, but his colleagues wouldn’t accept me because of my faith. He rejected me solely on that basis. 

Still hoping, I went to another spinning factory on his recommendation. Unfortunately, I received the same response: the engineer said he had a vacancy but could not hire me due to my Christian identity. I stood there crying openly, not because of rejection, but because I realized that even my qualifications could not protect me from religious discrimination. 

Eventually, a Muslim neighbor who worked as an electrical engineer at Master Textile helped me apply. But even he advised me not to include “Masih” in my name on the application, as the General Manager would not approve it. I followed his advice and got the job—but the discrimination continued. I was not allowed to eat in the factory canteen because I was a Christian. While some might call this mere “discrimination,” for me, it was a way of forcing me to either abandon my faith or suffer for holding on to it. 

These experiences are not just memories; they are the foundation of LEAD Ministries. We are not just preaching from a pulpit—we are standing with those who suffer in silence, defending their dignity, and planting churches where hope is all but lost. When we fight for justice, we preach the Gospel. And when we plant churches, we offer not just faith, but the dignity of being seen, heard, and loved. 

I also have deeply rooted, personal experience with the plight of bonded brick kiln laborers, as my own father was once involved in this kind of work. The brick kiln community in Pakistan is largely Christian, and tragically, many who now identify as Muslims were originally Christians who converted under duress. They suffered intense pressure, discrimination, and unbearable conditions, and some felt forced to convert in exchange for the hope of debt relief or survival. Based on my work and field experience, I estimate that more than two million Christians have converted in such contexts over the years. This tragic reality has led me and my team to actively engage with brick kiln communities—not only to provide legal and humanitarian aid but to strengthen them in their Christian faith. Helping them remain rooted in their beliefs is, to us, a vital part of church planting. Each time we support a family in holding on to their faith under pressure, we are building the Church—brick by brick, heart by heart. 

This is how faith and justice are intertwined in our mission. We believe that to serve God is to serve people, especially the marginalized and oppressed. Whether it’s defending blasphemy victims, advocating for refugees, or planting churches among the most vulnerable, our work is one and the same—proclaiming the Gospel through acts of justice, mercy, and hope. 

Many rights defenders face isolation and limited resources. What kinds of support—local or international—have been most vital in sustaining your work and ministry? 

This is absolutely true—and even more so when you do not have permanent donors or established charity partners consistently supporting your work. For me, the first and most vital form of support has always been ensuring the basic survival needs of my family and myself. For someone leading a ministry, it is essential to have peace of mind about how to meet daily necessities—such as school fees, school lunches, supplies for children, food on the table, and house rent. If those burdens are overwhelming, it becomes extremely difficult to focus wholeheartedly on the mission and advocacy work. 

As a refugee, I am not legally allowed to earn a formal income, but I am permitted to engage in voluntary activities—including online—and I am allowed to receive donations for my personal and ministry needs. This makes individual and direct support absolutely essential to continue our efforts. 

Our ministry also requires funding to carry out practical and meaningful activities. This includes travel to meet persecuted families, first-hand documentation of human rights violations, and follow-up with victims of blasphemy laws or violent religious extremism. We also require resources to provide emergency legal aid, temporary housing, food, or transportation for individuals and families facing immediate danger. Sometimes, we are their last hope before they are either imprisoned or worse. 

Additionally, in today’s digital world, communication tools such as reliable internet, phones, and secure platforms for advocacy are just as important. We regularly use online channels to raise awareness, connect with international partners, and report on hidden abuses. But these tools come at a cost, and maintaining this infrastructure is a constant challenge. 

Security is another major concern. Human rights defenders and Christian leaders working in high-risk contexts—especially those facing blasphemy accusations or working with such victims—require safety planning, secure accommodations, and sometimes even relocation assistance. All of this requires thoughtful investment, not only financially but in terms of strategic partnerships and long-term sustainability. 

Equally important is emotional, spiritual, and psychological support. This kind of work is not only dangerous but emotionally exhausting. Many frontline defenders are operating in isolation and under constant threat. Support from churches, Christian counselors, or even just consistent fellowship can bring much-needed encouragement and healing to continue the work. 

I have remained deeply engaged in raising awareness about bonded Christian laborers—many of whom are forced to convert to Islam under economic and social pressure. I contribute to international platforms like the World Watch List by Open Doors to ensure these stories are heard globally. Yet, despite years of advocacy, we still lack consistent partnerships with churches or Christian organizations that would support us in freeing these modern-day slaves and preserving their faith. 

I have also observed that many large, well-funded organizations tend to prioritize already-established entities that meet specific structural or registration criteria. While I respect the need for accountability, I believe there must also be room to support individuals and grassroots leaders who are actively engaged in the field—especially those working under extremely vulnerable conditions. I have been fortunate to receive support in the past from groups like Front Line Defenders and Freedom House, who understand this dynamic and are willing to empower individual defenders alongside institutions. 

Sustaining this kind of ministry begins with deep passion—it is the driving force behind every effort for justice, faith, and freedom. However, passion alone is not enough. To truly make a lasting impact, this passion must be supported by a strong network of partners—both local and international—who understand the costs, the calling, and the long-term commitment required to work in one of the most dangerous regions for religious minorities. It is the combination of heartfelt dedication and essential resources that makes this mission successful. 

Having lived as a refugee since 2016, how has displacement affected both your family’s daily life and your broader mission to defend human rights? 

Since my family and I were forced to flee Pakistan in 2016, our lives have changed drastically. We lost many loved ones, including both of our parents, and we now can only connect with family members through internet calls. This distance is deeply painful, especially since my children have grown up without the chance to form memories or recognize their relatives back in Pakistan. Living in Sri Lanka, my children have adapted to a culture more aligned with Western values, but when they see our family members on video calls, they sometimes ask if those relatives are Muslims based on their clothing and customs. 

Our neighbors in Sri Lanka are mostly Muslims, and unfortunately, some have treated us badly due to misunderstandings about our faith. They believe that we were Muslims in Pakistan and converted to Christianity only because of UNHCR involvement, but we have clearly told them we come from generations of Christians. Religious discussions often arise, and these are difficult for us to engage in fully, which creates ongoing challenges. For example, I once raised a concern about a Muslim teacher who treated my young daughter unfairly, leading her to resist going to school due to that teacher’s behavior. 

I want to open my heart about something that weighs heavily on me. When Charlie Kirk was assassinated, and it came to light that the person who took his life was a young man from a Christian family, I felt a deep sorrow that I shared with my wife. It’s incredibly painful to realize that someone who courageously stood up for our Christian faith, freedom, and justice could be betrayed and harmed by someone from within our own community—driven by hatred, jealousy, and bitterness. This kind of pain cuts deeper than any external persecution because it comes from those who should stand with us. Here in Sri Lanka, we have faced similar heartbreaks—attacked by envy and greed, not just from outsiders, but from people who share our faith and background. This has been one of the hardest burdens to bear. And now, as if that were not enough, we are going through a very difficult hardship that I cannot fully speak about yet, but I pray that when the time is right, I will be able to share it and find strength through it. 

On the mission front, displacement has presented both obstacles and new opportunities. Losing the networks, resources, and safety nets I had in Pakistan has made legal advocacy and building credibility much harder. Travel restrictions and disrupted working relationships add to these challenges. However, being in Sri Lanka has also brought me closer to international organizations, allowed me to engage directly with refugee communities, and helped me raise awareness about persecution in new and broader forums. 

Now, living at a distance from Pakistan, I can more openly and boldly write about persecuted individuals and faith-related cases without the immediate fear of attacks or retaliation from extremist elements within the Pakistani community. I am able to document persecution by working discreetly with trusted local contacts, carefully protecting their identities to shield them from Islamist extremist threats. 

Despite the daily hardships’ displacement brings, it has strengthened my resolve and deepened my commitment to human rights advocacy. Our faith and mission continue to sustain us, reminding us that the fight for justice transcends geography. Human rights work is fueled by perseverance, witness, and solidarity—not bound by borders. 

Looking ahead, what message of hope or call to action would you like to give to the global community about standing with persecuted Christians and other marginalized groups? 

I want to share a message of both hope and urgent call to action for the global community to stand firmly with persecuted Christians and all marginalized groups. Recently, the U.S. President Donald Trump, speaking at the United Nations, made a powerful statement highlighting that Christians are currently the most persecuted religious group in the world. He urged the international community to protect them and raise their voices loudly. 

This message deeply resonates with me. I often wonder why so much global attention is focused on crises like Gaza—which, in my view, is heavily influenced by political conflicts, originating from terrorist attacks by Hamas—while the severe persecution of Christians in places like Nigeria, Pakistan, and the Middle East often goes underreported or ignored. Churches are attacked, believers are killed, and yet the outcry is insufficient. 

Our first responsibility must be to speak up for our brothers and sisters in Christ who suffer simply for their faith. Only then can we meaningfully extend our concern to others. While other groups face challenges too, the nature of persecution against Christians is unique—they are peaceful people, whose faith teachings do not promote violence or hatred toward others. Unlike some other religious communities whose writings or actions may provoke retaliatory responses, Christians endure suffering solely because of their belief in Jesus Christ. 

The global community must recognize this injustice and respond with compassion, solidarity, and decisive action. We must demand that governments protect religious freedom and ensure that persecuted Christians and marginalized groups receive support, justice, and safety. It is not only a matter of faith but of universal human rights. 

In standing together, we uphold the values of freedom, dignity, and respect for all people—regardless of their religion or background. This is our hope and our calling. 

 

About Sardar Mushtaq Gill 

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Sardar Mushtaq Gill is a Human rights lawyer and founder of LEAD Ministries, globally advocating for and blogging about persecuted Christians, religious freedom, advocating to end bonded laborer, and supporting church planting