When a child is born into a Muslim family, the path to knowing the true God can be very difficult if not dangerous. Many times, it means walking away from people you greatly love. In the story below, one young man had to do things secretly behind his mother’s back, and this tormented his soul.
When our eyes have been opened to God’s truth, we can believe no other. For most of us, it is an encouraging time to move forward in faith, but for Muslim people, it means something different. It’s likely a choice between God and family. Elizabeth, one of SGA’s Storytellers, shares with us this story of a Muslim man who is now a faithful pastor, sharing the good news of Jesus Christ with others.
I was born into a family of Muslims. I was named after my granddad who was the Mullah (priest in a mosque). In my childhood before school, I was taught lessons by the mullah at 5:00 a.m. and then went on to school. I finished only four years at school. When I was about 11 years old, my parents divorced. My mom and the three of us kids were left alone. I had to care for my family, so I worked a lot and didn’t have a chance to continue my education. But at the same time, I regularly went to the mosque.
Once when I was 17 years old, one old lady from our backyard invited me and my friends to a summer camp. I knew that Christianity existed, but it is for Russians, it was not for us. It was a five-day camp, it costs so much less, and it was strange to me. I asked that lady why it was so. She said it was charity. Her church did that camp. Right after that information, I ran to my friends and started to discourage them to go there, because I had persuaded them before. We used to go to the mosque every week, so any Christianity was a shame to us. One of our friends started to talk to us. He was at the Christian camp. However, he stayed Muslim and still went to the mosque as he had before. He encouraged us to go, because there were a lot of fun things to do and many girls. So, we went there. It was weird to me as to why people sing for God. We were rebels there. We didn’t pray before the food, we joked and laughed during worship. In every small group I inundated the leader with questions, but he gently asked me to keep all questions for personal talk after. We used to talk till the morning hours about all of the questions I had. I didn’t receive the answers to all of my questions, but his answers touched my heart. I was impressed by the relationships in the team, by their love for us, despite our disobedience. For the first time in my life, I met a true person of my nationality who is a Christian and it impressed me. I analyzed everything and realized that I had wanted this kind of a relationship in my life all along.
On the last day of the camp, in the late night I was in my bed, but something concerned me, so, I talked to God: “God, Allah, I know you exist. Your prophet Muhammad talked a lot about you. But people here talk about another prophet Jesus. God, guide me please. If I would still have this feeling in the morning, I’ll go and pray.” I understood it was my last chance and would never see these people again. I saw that people who accepted Jesus received a lot of congratulations and gifts, but I didn’t want anyone to know about it. So, in the morning I went to my leader, and we prayed. We all came home and gathered in the evening to discuss camp. Then everybody left to go home, so me and my best friend left as well. We were leaning on a bench and talking when I decided to share with him the news about my repentance. He jumped, looked at me and I was waiting for the screaming and judgement . . . But he said the same to me, so we both accepted Christ at that camp.
Ten days later, I was in a car accident. My leg was injured. I was at hospital for one and a half months. For two of those weeks, I had amnesia and didn’t recognize my mom. After two weeks, my memory came back to me. Also, I remembered that I became a believer, so I was sorry about it and started to pray to Allah and asked him for forgiveness for going the wrong way. I thought the accident was a chance given from Allah to turn back to the true way. I started to pray all the Muslim prayers that I could remember. Three or four months later, some guys from a camp team came to visit me. At that moment I had already started walking on crutches. My friend asked me to go outside ASAP, and I expected to see my backyard friends, but it was believers who had travelled 12 to 14 hours to see me. I was amazed. I couldn’t believe it because my dad, who lived in my city, didn’t even visit me. In the end of our time, I asked my leader to talk a little bit, and I explained to him that I wanted to stay good friends, but I had chosen to go by Muslim way. I told him Jesus is God for Russians, but not for my people, so Allah was my God. But he responded, “You are in the hand of the devil, and he keeps his arm open if you don’t move somewhere. But if you try to go out of his arm, he starts to clench his fist.” He asked me to receive one gift—the Bible and also let him pray. We did. I went to my room and started to read the Bible. As we were poor and didn’t have a TV, books were my “TV.” I finished only four years of school, but my knowledge was much more than my peers’ who finished universities.
After the hospital, I was at home for a long time and couldn’t work because of my health. I continued to read the Bible at home. My mom saw it, and she was shocked. She came to me and asked if I read the Bible of the Russians. She was so angry and told me that she will renounce me if I continue. So, I read the Bible secretly, mostly at the night with a flashlight and I liked it. For half a year I wasn’t able to work, so my friend invited me to go to the church. Once, my mom asked me where I was going. I responded honestly that I was going to church. We had another big conflict; she was going to curse me if I would continue to do the same. She even told me it would be better if I died in the car accident, so I stayed Muslim and didn’t betray the faith. But I had told her that I became Christian before the car accident. I was afraid to lose my family, my mom, because I grew up without my dad. Mom was everything to me. So, I started to visit the church secretly, but my conscience tormented me for deceiving her.
After 3 to 4 months on Easter, I told her that we were invited to the church, and she rejected it immediately. But I told her that they were going to share gifts with the kids. Also, I lied to her that my friend’s mom was also going there, and my friend also lied to his mom that my mom going there. It was Easter, both of our moms came. My mom’s character was so strong, she was ashamed to scream at me in front of people. As I was playing the main role of Jesus in the scene, I was full of anxiety. Until the very end my mom was silent, so after that I came to her and admitted that I was attending this church. Her response surprised me. She asked me for any director or leader of that community and asked him if it was legal. Of course it was legal, so she freely let me continue to visit the church, because she noticed a lot of changes in me. Especially in my relationships with relatives. From that day I freely started to visit the church.
Months later we had a family dinner. My uncles and aunties started to tell my mom that I had disgraced the whole family. But in that moment my mom was on my side. She liked the changes in me, she knew who I was before, and she now accepted my choice. If somebody didn’t agree with her, the door was open for them to leave. Most of them left, but today, they come to me if they have problems with their kids or need advice.
Years later I married a beautiful lady, who was also a believer. Now we have three amazing kids. We are dedicated to serve God. I’m a pastor and my wife teaches Sunday school.
This pastor and his family are amazing people. They shine with God’s love and light. Let’s pray for them: for their own apartment to live in, for protection from the KGB (state security services), and the opportunity to serve freely.