The attack lasted just 30 seconds.
Thirty seconds for a suicide bomber to kill 22 Christians. To destroy Saint Elias Church, in Damascus, Syria. And to leave families in despair and disbelief.
Elias, 56, and his wife Hanan, 39, will never forget Sunday, 22 June 2025. “It was a massacre,” says Elias. “We went through 14 years of civil war, but an assault inside the church is unheard of.”
The father of five thinks back to the moment when 300 people in the church were startled by the sound of gunshots…
The Massacre
“The door was thrown open, and we were assaulted by a terrorist shooting left and right,” Elias recalls. “My brothers, Boutros and Geryes, charged and tackled the terrorist. But he detonated his explosives.”
The blast killed people instantly and plunged the church into chaos, confusion, and fear. “You cannot imagine the scene,” says Elias. “The church turned red.”
A shard of metal hit him in the thigh—his femoral artery. He fell, bleeding badly but could think only of his family. Where was his wife? Where were his children?
Elsewhere in the church, a panicked Hanan searched for her son and four daughters. “I saw a girl with blood coming out of her eyes,” she shares, wiping away tears. “Her face was swollen and her hair was burned. I looked down and recognised the shoes she was wearing and realised it was my daughter. I started shouting for the rest of my children, saying to myself, ‘Lord, please let me find one more child.’”
Elias, Hanan, and their five children survived—a miracle. But they lost seven family members that night: Elias’ sister, two brothers, and four cousins. They also lost a neighbour and another close friend. A year later, they still live with the trauma.
A Dwindling Church
Conflict and persecution have driven thousands of Christians to leave Syria in recent years. In 2011, there were close to 1.8 million believers. Now, there’s just 300,000.
The bombing at Saint Elias Church struck at the very heart of a dwindling community. Many believers no longer feel safe gathering. But, even amid fear, faith is alive. Recently, 22 children were baptised at Saint Elias.
“We go to church, but fear exists. Yet, even if we are afraid, we will still go,” Hanan says, her words filled with defiance. Leaving Syria may be an option in the future. But for now, they remain: “If it is God’s will, we will stay.”
Faith Built on Rock
Recently, the family returned to Saint Elias Church for the first time since the bombing. Workmen pause while the family light candles at the altar.
Elias walks with the aid of a crutch. Metal pins protrude from his thigh. The children, Elen, Sarah, Taqla, Ibrahim, and Christina, are nervous. A car horn sounds outside, and Ibrahim panics and flees with his siblings. Their trauma is raw and easily triggered.
“The children fear the smallest sound. They think they’re being attacked,” Hanan shares, sadly. Their scars run deep, but they are certain of one thing…
“We experienced faith and fear here. But we know the Lord will not forsake us,” says Elias. “Our faith is built on rock, not bubbles of soap.”
At Open Doors, our vision is to strengthen the bold faith of Christians like Elias, Hanan, and their children. Thanks to the generosity of incredible supporters like you, dozens of church leaders in Syria have been trained to run trauma healing workshops. Elias and Hanan’s children regularly attend sessions in Damascus.
Raneen*, a trained psychologist who leads Open Doors’ trauma healing in Syria says, “True healing is found in Jesus Christ. We want to bring people back to God.”
Back home, Elias picks up a figurine of Jesus as the Good Shepherd that he saved from the church rubble. It’s still flecked with dried blood.
“We live day by day,” he says. “We have no ambition but to remain faithful.”
