By Becky Murray, Op-ed contributor
The European Parliament has issued a rare and urgent rebuke to Pakistan after the abduction, forced conversion and marriage of a 13-year-old Christian girl, Maria Shahbaz.
In a resolution adopted earlier this month, MEPs called on Pakistan to establish a national mechanism to investigate complaints from families whose daughters have been abducted or forcibly converted from religious minority communities. They urged Pakistani authorities to ensure Maria has access to legal representation, contact with her family and psychological support, while condemning her treatment as emblematic of a much wider human rights crisis.
Maria’s story is not an isolated tragedy. It is one of thousands.
Every year, many Christian girls in Pakistan are abducted, forcibly converted to Islam and married to much older men. They disappear into a legal system that too often accepts forged marriage certificates, overlooks evidence of coercion and asks frightened children to defend the very “choices” forced upon them.
When a child is taken, coerced, and swallowed up by a life she never chose, the damage extends far beyond the immediate violence. Her identity is erased without her consent; her Christian faith becomes the very reason she is targeted; and her legal rights evaporate the moment her abductor claims her as his wife.
Maria’s case has attracted international attention. Countless others never will. Yet every one of them represents the same devastating reality: a childhood stolen, a faith exploited and a justice system that too often fails those it exists to protect.
For the global Church, this is more than another news story. It is a moral test. Maria’s story exposes a system that consistently fails those who most need its protection, and it confronts the global church with a moral question it cannot afford to ignore: what does it mean to defend the vulnerable when the structures around them refuse to do so?
The response to this crisis cannot be defined by political convenience or diplomatic caution. It must be shaped by Christian teaching. Throughout Scripture, God’s people are told to pay attention to those who are easily overlooked — the young, the weak, the ones without power.
It’s not complicated: when a child is threatened, or a girl is left unprotected, Christians don’t stand back. We step in. We guard. We make sure harm doesn’t get the final word. This isn’t politics; it’s obedience.
A community shaped by Christ should be the safest place in the world for its sons and daughters, because their protection isn’t just a social duty; it’s a calling. When a justice system refuses to recognize the humanity of a child, the church must be willing to do so without hesitation.
We cannot suddenly repair Pakistan’s legal structures, but we can refuse to treat these stories as distant or inevitable. We can advocate for international pressure that is not merely symbolic. We can support those working directly with affected families. The Church can pray with seriousness rather than sentimentality. And it can recognize that silence, in the face of such Christian suffering, is a form of complicity.
At One By One, the anti-trafficking organization I started more than 15 years ago, we have worked in Pakistan for several years, reaching thousands of children forced into bonded labor. We encounter these realities not as abstract policy debates but as the stories of child after child we seek to bring out of danger.
The children we meet have endured trauma that no child should ever face, yet they also demonstrate resilience that is both humbling and instructive. Our work involves safe housing, trauma care, education, and long‑term restoration — not because these services are charitable, but because they are necessary for rebuilding lives that have been violently disrupted. The process is slow, often difficult, and always personal. It is also a reminder that intervention, when grounded in Christian compassion and conviction, can create genuine change.
The global church must decide whether it will treat this crisis as a passing concern or as a moral imperative.
The choice for any Christian is simple. A 13‑year‑old Christian girl stood in a courtroom and asked for justice. She was denied. Her story is not unique, but it must not be normal.
The theft of her childhood, the pursuit of her identity, and the exploitation of her faith demand a response that is both principled and persistent. Until every stolen girl is safe, the Church’s work is not finished.
Becky Murray is the founder and CEO of One By One, an anti-trafficking organization working across Africa and Asia. Check out www.onebyone.org for more.