Understanding Religious Persecution through “Blood & Water”
Remembering my friend Shahbaz Bhatti, 15 years after his assassination
How do you assess a graphic novel about your slain friend? When you knew the person and were a part of the story and the creation of the book? Words fail to capture emotions when memorializing a fallen friend who gave the ultimate sacrifice in the fight against religious persecution. But you hope to tell his story well.
My friend was Shahbaz Bhatti, a little-known hero of the Christian faith but a courageous Pakistani who gave his life in the cause of religious freedom for all. He’s worthy of more accolades than can be given. But I wanted to honor his life and commemorate his sacrifice leading up to the 15th anniversary of his untimely assassination.
Those of us who knew him want to keep his memory alive, especially for the next generation. The end result was Blood & Water: The Life and Martyrdom of Shahbaz Bhatti (Ignatius Press, 2026). It tells his remarkable true story in a way that can inform and inspire.
Personal Connection
Why a graphic novel? Admittedly, a hard-bound comic book about a dead friend seems like an odd way to honor him. But this unique format introduces Shahbaz’s life, faith, and the issues he stood for to a new generation. The format is perhaps the last remaining form of physical books that can engage young adults about the broader world. A world suffering from a pandemic of religious persecution.
As the producer, I worked with the Bhatti family in Canada to gain permission to tell their story. Through nothing short of God’s providence, a talented creative team came together. The book was wonderfully written by Matt Yocum and beautifully illustrated by the gifted artist, Jordan Holt. Mandi Hart at Cave Pictures Publishing was a key adviser. The Templeton Religion Trust underwrote it all.
While Jordan was not familiar with Shahbaz or Pakistan, he studied Shahbaz’s life, Pakistan’s artistic culture, watched videos of provincial Punjab street scenes, and viewed pictures of Islamabad, the nation’s capital. Jordan shared how he found Shahbaz’s moving and poignant story similar to the saints of the early church. In fact, Shahbaz was recently recognized by the Catholic Church as a “Servant of God,” as a step toward canonization. Jordan, despite having never visited Pakistan, captured the country’s unique aesthetic and vibe. From my multiple visits to the country, I can say with certainty that the pages of Blood & Water capture the beauty and tragedy of Pakistan.
Matt Yocum’s vivid narrative storytelling portrays Shahbaz’s deep Catholic faith and his willingness to lay down his life in defense of others. An experienced author who has written for Marvel, Matt uncovered key themes of Shahbaz’s life through family interviews and research. He divided Shahbaz’s story into three acts – The Seeker, The Activist, The Minister – each framed by a different scene of Jesus’ ministry.
Matt did not make a hagiography, but the stories demonstrate Shahbaz’s lifelong commitment to helping others. A true creative dynamic duo, Matt and Jordan struck the right balance of remembrance and good storytelling. They do not compare Shahbaz’s life to the Passion of the Christ. Rather, they show how he was fully devoted to Jesus.
A water motif runs through the book, an evocative symbol of life and blessing, but it is countered by blood. Vignettes include Shahbaz writing in his own blood the rights of religious minorities, risking his life to rescue Muslims in dire straits during a devastating flood, his efforts to free Asia Bibi from death row, and his murder on a rainy day.
It’s a beautiful book. Yet I found it hard to read.
Not because it is poorly told. But because I lived it and still remember the pain. The same for the family. The worst day of my professional life was the worst day of their lives. Period. But others should know Shahbaz’s story, a remarkable life well lived that inspires and challenges.
The Seeker
For those not familiar with Shahbaz Bhatti, he lived a brave and faithful life. Shahbaz paid the ultimate price for the cause of religious freedom in his home country, Pakistan, on March 2, 2011. A country of 250 million people but not a nation, overlapping ethnic and religious affiliations compete for resources and power. Pakistan is a hard place physically, with deserts and mountains, along with seemingly never-ending disasters, natural and manmade. Tens of millions eke out an existence in extreme poverty, while a tiny, cultured elite and military strongmen run the government and distribute the spoils to their own.
It is spiritually difficult as well. Shahbaz grew up a religious minority in a country becoming increasingly hostile towards religious minorities. Then, as now, religious persecution is a daily risk for all Pakistanis, but particularly Christians, Hindus, and Ahmadi and Shia Muslims. Combined with extremist mobs and terrorist attacks, Pakistan’s legal system discriminates and punishes those who think or believe differently. Pakistan’s notorious blasphemy law, the worst in the world, continues to victimize hundreds of individuals.
From the earliest days of Shahbaz’s life, he was drawn to the least of these, first in his village in Punjab province and then at university in Lahore. He astounded his family and friends with his ability to see those whom others didn’t and respond with kindness. One of the key scenes of the graphic novel shows him receiving his calling while at mass on Easter Sunday.
The Activist
Shahbaz’s calling and passion for justice transformed him into a tireless advocate for the oppressed, not only the Christian community but others outside his faith as well. His personal courage was remarkable. His energy, never ending. From this, he comforted the afflicted and afflicted the comfortable.
It was his bold activism that brought him to my attention. At the time, I was the director of policy and research at the U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom. A U.S. government advisory body based in Washington, DC, the Commission tracks global violations of religious freedom and develops policy recommendations for the President, the Secretary of State, and Congress. While overseeing a team of researchers, I held the Pakistan portfolio.
Shahbaz founded the All Pakistan Minorities Alliance in 2002 to build political support for religious minorities nationwide. It was a unique coalition of groups that could not agree theologically on the time of day, but all agreed they were better off working together to protect religious freedoms. Shahbaz was their leader.
Pakistan’s political establishment recognized his ability to rally tens of thousands around minority rights. And they noticed how his determination, pluck, and courage successfully thwarted their attempts to restrict minority rights. He was a threat.
The Minister
When Asif Ali Zardari became president in 2008 after the murder of his wife, Benazir Bhutto, in December the year before, he asked Shahbaz to join his cabinet. Shahbaz became the only Christian member of the federal cabinet, making him the highest-ranking Christian in the entire country. His portfolio was religious minority issues. Perhaps the political powers thought bringing Shahbaz into government would make him easier to control. It didn’t work. Once a cabinet minister, he used that position to advocate for those victimized by the blasphemy law or the societal forces of regression.
During this period, our collaboration accelerated. During visits together in either Islamabad or Washington, DC, my respect for him grew. Shahbaz was also famous for calling at all hours of the night with updates on key situations. He was a Pakistani patriot who wanted the best for his country. We became friends.
Events in this last chapter of his life, and the last act of the graphic novel, began to quicken in 2009 when an unknown farmhand named Asia Bibi was charged with blasphemy and sentenced to death. It became global news, and she became an international prisoner of conscience. Shahbaz sprang into action.
Realizing the need for external pressure to secure her safe release, Shahbaz sought my help to rally the U.S. government. Over 2010 and 2011, I introduced him to Congressional leaders and facilitated meetings with Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and Samantha Power at the National Security Council. Thanks to other friends and family, he had similar engagements in Canada and Europe, meeting with world leaders and even Pope Benedict.
Shahbaz’s effort was not to self-aggrandize, but to move his country forward and rescue victimized innocents. Shahbaz was making a difference, one that the forces of darkness in Pakistan feared. He told me as much on our last phone call days before his murder. He was savvy and effective. It cost him his life, killed outside his mother’s home on March 2, 2011, in a hail of bullets under a drizzle of rain. He died for his public witness against religious persecution and unjust blasphemy laws.
What I and others found so inspiring about Shahbaz was that he understood the risks. Days before his murder, he was interviewed about the dangers confronting him. A scene retold in the graphic novel, he said:
I know what is the meaning of the cross. And I’m following the cross. And I’m ready to die for a cause. I’m living for my community of suffering people – I will die to defend their rights. I prefer to die for my principles and the justice of my community than to compromise against these threats.
Questions for Those Who Remain
The issues Shahbaz grappled with are still relevant 15 years later. Pakistan is a dangerous place for religious minorities, with individuals risking much to simply pray or worship as they feel led. His death was one dark day in a long string of dark days. We who are blessed to live in safety and prosperity must understand the broader world of religious persecution. And ask ourselves how we should respond.
His commitment is a thread that runs through the entire story. Yet, as author Matt Yocum remarked at the launch event in Toronto, the book is not intended to be a tombstone. It asks questions. In the opening scene, it asks whether Shahbaz will pursue the way of the gun or the way of the cross? And it concludes with a question for the reader: Will we join in this cause for religious freedom?
It is a question I hope many will consider. Will we draw inspiration from Shahbaz’s life and take up where his race ended? Will we take the baton to continue the race? Or, to change metaphors, he took his small light into dark places, but it was tragically snuffed out by hatred. Will we collectively rekindle that flame, so it burns more brightly?
Producing a graphic novel about a slain friend is hard to do. But I’m proud of the collective effort. I hope others will appreciate Shahbaz’s heroism and commitment, as well as the creative process that tells his story well.
Blood & Water is a reflection on modern martyrdom, Christian witness, and the importance of defending anyone persecuted for their beliefs. I’m hopeful that the format will engage new readers about the reality of global persecution and spur reflection on how we can respond. But it will also appeal to adults as well, an easy read about a hard subject.
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