Ministry of Faith: In Punjab, why conversion isn’t about identity alone

After half an hour of music, the stage is opened up for personal narratives. A couple steps forward with two young children. “We had no hope after years of marriage,” the woman says. “We came here, we prayed, and today we are blessed.”

A young man speaks next. “I was addicted to drugs. Nothing worked. I came here and now, I am clean.”

Pic courtesy: The Church of Signs and Wonders

A woman from Bihar slowly walks up the steps to the stage. “I could not walk for years,” she says. “Now I can.”

Each testimony, told under dramatic arc lights and accentuated by music, is met with applause. Some in the audience weep, others raise their hands in prayer.

After hours of music and testimonies, the hall erupts as pastor Narula, clad in white kurta-pyjama, takes the stage. He begins with a hymn in Hindi before starting his sermon. “Medicine can manage. But only faith can heal completely,” says Narula, whose ministry claims a following of around 3-4 lakh people in India and abroad.

As he speaks, some in the audience begin to tremble and others fall to the ground. Volunteers move quickly to assist them.

Unlike traditional institutions such as the Roman Catholic Church or the Church of North India, independent ministries such as the one Narula runs in Khambra village represent a relatively newer, popular face of Christianity in Punjab.

Union Home Minister Amit Shah’s recent statement, that the BJP would bring a law to stop “forcible conversions” in Punjab if voted to power in 2027, brought renewed scrutiny to the rapid growth of these churches across the state. According to Albert Dua, president of the United Christian Federation, of the 5,000-odd churches in Punjab, more than 80% belong to the newer denominations. While some like Narula’s Church of Signs and Wonders are established institutions that run out of massive structures spread across acres, there are several smaller churches that run out of homes.

A sermon by Harpreet Deol of the Open Door Church ministry at Khojewala, Kapurthala. (Photo: Open Door Church)

A different kind of faith

What complicates the political debate over conversion is the unique, fluid nature of the faith that’s practised by these ministries. Churches such as Narula’s are independent entities influenced by the Pentecostal movement that places more emphasis on a “direct encounter with God”, rather than any structured, organised conversion.

The ground outside the prayer enclosure resembles a fair with food stalls, book counters, and families sitting together with home-packed meals.

“I have not changed my religion,” says Sunita Verma at one of the food counters. “Earlier, I used to go to temples. But now I believe in Jesus even though I am a Hindu.”

Like her, most of the faithful participate in church gatherings, but undergo no formal conversion or change in official identities.

It’s this grey area that any anti-conversion law in Punjab will have to navigate.

Dua of the United Christian Federation calls the political debate on the anti-conversion law “a stunt”. “If thousands gather, believe, and return, yet never formally convert, what does conversion even mean? In Punjab today, faith is not always a matter of record. And that is what makes it so difficult to regulate. There should be a proper census,” he says.

“There is no document, no legal declaration,” says Chandigarh-based advocate Manjeet Singh. “If a person attends prayers but does not officially convert, how do you prove conversion? You cannot legislate what is happening inside someone’s mind.”

While Christians officially account for 1.5% of Punjab’s population of 27.7 million (2011 Census), community leaders estimate that up to 15% of the population could be “informal believers”.

Nearly a century after Rev. John C. Lowrie arrived in Ludhiana, marking the beginning of Christianity and organised missionary activity in Punjab, including preaching, education, and social work, Christianity remains a small but significant part of Punjab’s religious landscape.

But unlike the traditional church, with its strict rules for baptism and memberships, many of the new Pentecostal Christian missions are more fluid, with their followers retaining parts of their previous religious identities while participating in prayer meetings and congregational life.

At these churches, sermons are delivered in Punjabi and Hindi, hymns resemble bhajans and community meals in line with the langar tradition are organised on special days. Shobha yatras (religious processions), with the Bible placed on a vehicle, are carried out like Sikh processions for the Guru Granth Sahib. Pastors now frequently wear turbans and keep beards. One of the most commonly used quotes at these gatherings is, “Jesus doesn’t change your religion; he changes your heart.”

The pews in these churches have been replaced with floor mats (dari), and visitors to some of the smaller churches are required to remove their shoes, like in gurdwaras and temples.

Borrowing from experiences at Hindu and Sikh deras, some of these gatherings offer a grand experience with high-quality sound systems, professional lighting, and grand halls.

As pastor Ankur Narula speaks, some in the audience begin to tremble and others fall to the ground. Volunteers move quickly to assist them. (Photo: Anju Agnihotri Chaba)

What draws them

Sadiq village in Faridkot district has one Partition-era gurdwara and four churches, three of these Roman Catholic churches. The fourth, ‘Ishwar Satya Bhawan’, is run by Barkat Singh, an independent pastor.

A Majhabi, or Dalit Sikh, Barkat set up the church in 2010, when he converted “for personal reasons”. The church runs out of a hall that’s part of his house, where he lives with his wife and the families of his two sons.

“Around 50 followers come to my church. There has been an increase in the Christian population in Punjab, but the numbers are not as great as is being projected. There are 10-12 Christian houses in this village. Others are Sikhs. We all have to live in peace,” says Barkat.

Sadiq village is in Punjab’s Dalit heartland of Doaba, where Hindu and Sikh Scheduled Castes make up 40% of the population. The region is also home to Dera Balan that’s at the heart of Dalit politics and caste pride. Yet, three of the biggest Christian deras that have their base here are all run by upper-caste pastors (Harpreet Deol, Bajinder Singh, and Ankur Narula).

Nearly 2 km from Sadiq village, pastor Sunil Sethi runs a church at his village, Mani Singh Wala. “I am a Sethi (upper caste). My caste has not changed. But now I am blessed and have quit my bad habits. I converted to Christianity in 2009,” he says.

Asked if intercaste marriages are common after conversion to Christianity, Sethi says, “Everyone tries to arrange the marriage of their children into their own caste.”

Barkat is proud of his caste. “Caste can’t be changed. I was born into a family of Majhabi Sikhs. My two sons are married into Sikh families. My daughter is married to a Christian family. My daughters-in-law go to the gurdwara,” he says.

People walk past Bajinder Singh’s The Church of Glory and Wisdom at Chandpur village in Mohali district. (Photo: Jasbir Singh Malhi)

With caste an entrenched reality, most followers of these churches say it wasn’t discrimination, but the “miracles” they witnessed that drew them to their new faith.

Gurcharan Singh, a Majhabi Sikh labourer in Sadiq, says he converted to Christianity in 2021 after attending a congregation in the village about a year ago. “We saw how those who couldn’t walk started dancing. It was a miracle.”

Gurcharan doesn’t go to any of the four churches in Sadiq. Instead, he travels nearly 80 kilometers to a church in Bathinda. “I am a follower of pastor Jaspreet. I started believing in him after witnessing miracles with my own eyes. They can cure every kind of physical pain. My niece almost died in an accident. We took her to many places and finally, to Pastor Jaspreet’s church. She is fine now. What can be a bigger miracle than this? Our entire family was possessed by evil spirits. Now we are free,” he says.

In the second half of the 19th century, Punjab witnessed the Singh Sabha movement, a socio-religious reform movement to promote rational thinking among Sikhs that led to the formation of the Shiromani Gurdwara Prabandhak Committee (SGPC).

“After 1984, this movement within the Sikhs found a new objective: to shun every practice that has any roots in a Brahminical approach. It led to Sikh activists opposing siyane (faith healers) and peers and warning Sikhs against visiting them. Then came the pastors. Now the same people who would go to peers go to these gatherings in the hope of witnessing miracles,” says Sarabjit Singh Dhotian, head preacher of the SGPC.

The pastors, he says, are a powerful anchor for those in distress. “At the gurdwara, the priest is more like a caretaker. Some people feel the need for a middleman between them and God, to whom they can tell their problems. Pastors place their hands on the heads of the devotees and play the middleman,” he says.

A senior RSS leader in Punjab, who spoke on the condition that he won’t be named, calls for societal support. “Instead of focusing only on conversions, society should strengthen itself from within. There is sometimes a lack of meaningful social or spiritual engagement among Hindus and Sikhs. This gap can lead individuals to search for support in other spaces,” he says.

Jatinder Masih Gaurav, Chairman of the Punjab State Minority Commission, dismisses allegations of “forced conversion”. “People attend ministry church gatherings in large numbers, not necessarily to change their religion, but to find peace and spiritual comfort. Amit Shah, who holds a constitutional position, should exercise caution while making such statements. In Punjab, there has not been a single reported case of forced conversion,” he says.

A growing sense of unease

The rise of these churches has been accompanied by a growing list of controversies, ranging from allegations of sexual harassment and financial irregularities.

Among the controversial figures is Bajinder Singh of the Church of Glory and Wisdom, who is currently lodged in Mansa jail after a rape conviction. Police say Singh, who converted while in jail in a murder case in 2011-12, later built a large following through “miracle” claims. His church was raided by the Income Tax Department in 2023.

Ankur Narula, founder of one of Punjab’s largest ministries, has also faced scrutiny, with his premises, too, subjected to Income Tax raids.

Narula, however, maintains that all activities of the church are conducted openly and events are broadcast live on their social media channels. “If we were doing anything wrong, why would we make everything public?” he asks, maintaining that he gets no foreign funding and that all “contributions come voluntarily from people within India”.

Traditional Christian denominations such as the Roman Catholic Church and the Church of North India are wary as they watch the rise of Pentecostal-style “ministry churches” across Punjab.

“The Catholic Church has no relation with such ministries,” says Tarsem Peter of the Diocesan Pastoral Council in Jalandhar, underlining structural and theological differences. He points out that becoming a priest in the Catholic tradition involves years of training, unlike the relatively unregulated rise of “self-styled pastors”.

Distinguishing the structured Catholic Church from the emerging “pastor culture”, Thomas Masih, state president of the BJP Punjab Minority Morcha and a Catholic Commission associate, says that the traditional system has no room for “forced conversions” and therefore no reason to fear an anti-conversion law.

Dua of the United Christian Federation says, “Earlier Pentecostal groups focused strictly on the Holy Bible and a simple life. There was no emphasis on miracles. But the newer ministries are adopting practices like processions for Good Friday and Christmas, while promoting miracle healing and signs and wonders. They are more like deras,” he says.

Fr. Jose Sebastian Bishop of the Jalandhar Diocese, which has 150 churches and 75 schools across Punjab, parts of Himachal Pradesh, Haryana, Chandigarh and J&K, says that while it’s a “deep thirst for fulfilment” that draws people to such spaces,  “larger followings are not proof of genuineness. People will find that out soon”.

But none of this scepticism finds space at Narula’s gathering in Khambra village. Sitting on chairs in the back row of the enclosure, Mahesh and his wife Reena Baghel say they travelled from Chhattisgarh to pray at Narula’s church, hoping to be parents after 18 years of marriage. “Maybe it is belief, maybe miracle… but people feel something. That is why all these people have come.”