Many people around the world are rightly celebrating the Israeli hostages who have been released from Gaza and the fragile ceasefire that is currently in place. Moments of reunion — and the prolonged agony felt by families of the remaining 13 deceased hostages — remind us that human life is precious beyond words.

Yet there is still another group of hostages in Gaza: countless Palestinian children trapped in fear, parents trapped in rubble, and a generation trapped between grief and uncertainty. For many Palestinians, this is a time to mourn.

What do we believe about the people who are different from us politically, religiously, racially, socially?

To speak of hostages today is to speak not only of those taken, but of all who have been bound by violence and loss. Every image of a freed captive should remind us that freedom is God’s design for every person made in His image. This is true for Israelis and Palestinians alike.

The Christian scriptures teach that every human being bears the imago Dei: the divine imprint of dignity, value, and worth. When we forget that truth, we become capable of anything.

Earlier this year, I had the privilege of spending time with Rwandan Bishop Nathan Amooti. Rwanda is no stranger to pain. In the aftermath of genocide, Rwandans discovered that the first step toward national healing was re-humanizing one another — refusing to call a neighbor an enemy, rejecting demonizing language, and refusing to treat human souls as disposable.

That same work lies before us in Gaza. Rebuilding is not merely about bricks, electric lines, and water systems; it’s about reconstructing belief. What do we believe about the people who are different from us politically, religiously, racially, socially?

Rwanda’s recovery offers several lessons for all who long to see renewal in Gaza and beyond.

Rebuilding begins with re-humanizing

Bishop Amooti reminded me that genocide began when people stopped seeing one another as human.

The Hutus referred to the Tutsis as “snakes” or “cockroaches,” while the Tutsis called the Hutus “frogs.” Healing began when they rediscovered their shared humanity. Every act of compassion, every home rebuilt, and every hospital restored became a declaration that life is sacred.

Reconciliation is a process, not a moment

Rwanda learned that forgiveness and rebuilding take years of patient, communal effort.

Reconciliation started when individuals faced their trauma and chose life over revenge. True justice meant rebuilding community rather than pursuing more bloodshed. Bishop Amooti said that when a person kills someone who harmed their loved ones, “They become exactly like the person who first caused the pain.”

It takes humility and courage to stop the cycle of dehumanization.

Nation-building is moral and spiritual

When Rwandans returned to their homeland after the genocide, every system was broken: schools, hospitals, banks, and trust itself. They became innovators and social entrepreneurs, not simply out of ambition but out of necessity. The church played a vital role in helping rebuild communities by reminding people that identity runs deeper than tribe or politics.

Rebuilding Gaza will likewise require more than international aid; it will require moral imagination, shared responsibility, and courage to believe that neighbors can once again live side by side.

Healing requires shared responsibility

In Rwanda, citizens didn’t wait for government capacity; everyone participated in reconstruction. Pastors, teachers, farmers, and business leaders worked together to restore life.

The same must be true for Gaza. Governments can broker ceasefires, but ordinary people — Israeli and Palestinian, Muslim and Christian, local and global — will have to be ambassadors of goodness and peace with their own hands.

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Followers of Jesus Christ have a special responsibility; they are invited into this ministry of reconciliation. We rejoice with the families whose loved ones have come home; this is good, beautiful, and right. But to stop there would be to miss the heart of God.

We must also mourn with those who mourn — to grieve the staggering loss of life in Gaza and to join the sacred work of rebuilding.

If we believe that every person is made in the image of God, then every broken city, every grieving mother, and every frightened child becomes holy ground, a place where the Kingdom of God still longs to reign.

Freedom for Israeli hostages must include freedom for the people of Gaza: freedom from fear, despair, and ongoing dehumanization.