14 August 2025

A Lesson In Patience From The Persecuted

And we think we have it bad! Driven out of their homeland by the Religion of "Peace", followed by years of exile, and now, an atheist country.

From Crisis

By Casey Chalk, MA(Theol)

The story of a heroic father patiently enduring hardships to protect his family.

You just have to be patient,” a priest told me not long ago. I knew it was true, but it didn’t make it much easier—I had been unceremoniously removed from a prestigious position with my employer, forced to upend my family’s life as we moved thousands of miles with only four days’ notice. It was terrible and embarrassing, perhaps the greatest shock of my adult life. 

But Father was right. I needed to exercise patience. I needed to trust God that even with everything that had happened to me—including a deep feeling of resentment that I had been unjustly treated—He would make a way. Something good would come of this. In time, I would see the other side of things and be back on my feet. That’s when I thought of Wilson. 

I’ve previously brought Wilson to the attention of readers of Crisis, but it’s been a while. (His family features prominently in my 2021 book, The Persecuted.) Wilson grew up in Pakistan in a devout, middle-class Catholic household. His older brother became a physician. Wilson, like his wife, Maryam, became a registered nurse. They have three children together.

Then, almost two decades ago, Muslim extremists in his native city of Karachi began harassing members of his family. His brother was accused of blasphemy against the Koran and was forced to flee to the Netherlands for fear of violent retribution. Wilson and Maryam were, in turn, accused of trying to force a Muslim patient to break his Ramadan fast and convert him to Christianity. Members of the patient’s extended family tried to kill the couple, shooting at them as they fled the hospital.
After some time in hiding, Wilson determined to take his entire extended family to Bangkok, Thailand, where it was comparatively easy to acquire a tourist visa—which they in short time overstayed. Wilson’s family, which in time swelled to 17 people, resided in two small bedrooms a short walk from a Redemptorist Catholic parish, where they assisted with odd jobs. That’s where I met Wilson. He and his family exuded an incredible faith in Christ, a belief that God would, in time, take care of them—regardless of how long it took.

And boy, did the years drag on. When I met Wilson in 2014, he and his family had already been in Thailand for years. During the time we were together, the family formally petitioned the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, or UNHCR, to be granted refugee status so that they could then get in line to be placed in one of the few countries (such as the United States) that accepts refugees. Their application was denied; UNHCR claimed that they had failed to demonstrate that their lives were in danger. Their subsequent appeal was likewise denied.

And still, they patiently waited. After three years of getting to know Wilson and his family, I moved back to the United States with my family. We kept in touch, particularly as I prepared to document his story for my book. In 2019, more than two years after I had returned to the United States, Wilson reached out and requested money to pay for plane tickets—his wife and children had been sponsored for resettlement in Holland. We rushed to raise the money among family and friends; and in December, Maryam and their three children safely arrived in the Netherlands. (Wilson stayed in Thailand to help care for his extended family.)

Wilson stayed in Thailand for another five and a half years. He buried his elderly father there. He worked tirelessly at advocating for his other family members, successfully relocating one of his sisters and his mother to the Netherlands. Then, finally, earlier this year, Wilson made the trip to Holland himself to be reunited with his wife and children. 

I recently interviewed Wilson and his family, who now live in the Dutch city of Hasselt, not far from Zwolle, the home of the great Medieval spiritual writer Thomas à Kempis. Quite a few years have passed since the last time I saw Wilson’s family in person. His eldest daughter, now 18, recently finished high school and is attending a Dutch college with the hope of attaining a business degree; his younger daughter, 16, hopes to become a lawyer. The son, 14, is in grade school. All three children speak impeccable English, as well as Dutch.

The Dutch have taken quite good care of Wilson’s family. When they arrived, the government identified a house for them, though the family was on the hook for rent and utilities. Maryam had to attend Dutch language school and pass a battery of exams before she was permitted to work. Wilson is now doing the same program, which takes about two years. Maryam and the children have applied for Dutch citizenship, and they hope to hear the results in September. 

All the children speak glowingly of the Netherlands. It is peaceful. And it has lots of rules, which they like because it makes the country safer (never heard that from a teenager before!). Public transportation is inexpensive, and they travel by bicycle, bus, and train. Through school, they’ve visited cities such as Amsterdam and Rotterdam and enjoyed community service opportunities. 

Yet they acknowledge that, for them, Holland is a strange place. Most Dutch they encounter are atheists, while most immigrants are Muslim. However, unlike in the family’s native Pakistan, the Muslims in the Netherlands are largely friendly, as the vast majority are there because they themselves are fleeing violence in their native countries of Syria or Palestine. When Wilson’s family goes out in town, they see more Muslims than Dutch. Even their local Catholic parish is a mixture of elderly Dutch and younger Asian immigrants, though the priest is Dutch and the Mass is in Dutch. There is also no real Catholic community—the parish isn’t even open during the week apart from Communion and Confirmation classes.

I asked Wilson what it was like to be separated from his family for more than five years. He said he lost a lot of weight during that time. (I could see the gray hairs on the video call.) Yet his children exhibit a remarkably mature respect for their father given their young age. “He fought for us until the very end,” one of his daughters notes. 

I suppose one could say the same thing of Jesus. “The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be still” (Exodus 14:14). The Lord certainly fought for Wilson and his family. Indeed, He continues to fight for those still in Thailand—ten family members remain there, all of whom have completed at least 50 percent of the paperwork necessary to immigrate to Holland. Wilson is optimistic some of them will join him there by the end of the year. Even if they don’t, I know Wilson and his family will keep faith. They’ve learned to be patient.

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