When I was small, going to church was a major
event. First, I got to wear a fancy dress with frills and bows and
more often than not it was itchy! I tried my best not to fidget in
it. At Vacation Bible School there was a craft! And then.. the
event of all events, the snack!! Wow, served on a colored paper
plate with a napkin. I would look at the pictures of Jesus on the
walls and think about him, for I was told that the blonde, blue-eyed
Jesus was God. The western Christian idea of God was firmly
implanted, along with the snack.
As I grew I tried hard to maintain my religion. When my parents
divorced, I went to church alone. When the Pastor said that reading
the Bible brought you closer to God, I read it. When he said prayer
was the key, I prayed. Even as a kid I ached in my heart for God.
I ended up marrying a man who was to become a Pastor. I continued
reading the Bible, and praying, and aching in my heart. I
concentrated on rearing my children and keeping the house and yet in
my heart I ached for God so much. Something was not right.
I began to think.
That's when the “trouble” began. I got the bright idea that I would
read the Bible through and in one shot get all my questions
answered. I ended up reading it more than once, and didn't get my
questions answered! Why did God favor David so much when he
committed adultery, and had Uriah killed? Gee I didn't do that
and.. felt God was far away. Jesus was God, I was taught; and yet..
there is a story where this man comes up to Jesus and calls him
"good master", and Jesus replies asking “Why callest thou me good?
There is none good but One that is God.” Now why would God say
that?? I had many other questions besides this. I started asking
my questions, and got into trouble. I was told I had no faith, and
I was messing in details of no concern. Nothing was making sense!
The true turning point came after revival one night. I was
exhausted from over an hour of singing, and at the dinner table my
husband was going over the fine points of his sermon. I had
questions and asked them and he erupted in an angry tirade. I went
outside crying and again felt that ache in my heart that I was so
familiar with. I talked to God. I told him I didn't know Him, but
I wanted to so very much. I told Him I had done all that I knew to
do. I asked Him to reveal Himself to me no matter what it took, or
what I had to lose. I had to find God.
Eruptions at home were becoming commonplace. The Pastor's wife must
not confide her troubles to anyone in the church! Gossip and much
trouble can start that way. To have someone to talk to I began
going into Christian chat rooms. One day in that room I met a
muslim. Tarek was the first Muslim I had ever met. I had to win
him to Jesus! Tarek was a little unnerving because he seemed to
sense my discontent. I was trying very hard to lead him to Jesus
and show Tarek I had the truth, and he wasn't buying it. That day
began a relationship that was a war of words. We wrote for months;
I sent him my objections to Islam, and he answered with facts. When
Tarek sent articles on the fallacies in the Bible, I would cringe.
Many of them I had already studied; but more? Back and forth we
went. Things at home and at church were escalating at a dizzying
pace. I could no longer sit on the front pew of the church in the
honored Pastor's wife position and open my Bible in the same way.
Things were now tainted with questions. Answered questions.
At this time in my life I was in a well, so to speak. I couldn't
read the Bible with the same zeal anymore; I wasn't sure if my
prayers were right; church was a big fiasco as far as I was
concerned because I could no longer tell what was the truth and what
wasn't. Tarek started telling me to read the Quran and issued me a
formal challenge! I thought it over for a couple of days as if I
did this I would have to make a major effort and I had to face the
possibility of conversion. Part of me was also desperate for God by
this time. Church was becoming more and more painful. At this time
I was missing song services as I could no longer sing the songs.
The words bothered me so, the emotionalism in the people that got us
no where. Everything was coming into clarity and it was very, very
frightening as I was the only one seeing things this way. When you
are on the platform or on the first row of the pew you can't hide
spiritual discontent! Many times during the sermon I would hear
something I knew to be false and I just couldn't take it I would get
up and walk out. What a sight, me leaving and walking down that
long center aisle out the door in plain view of the whole church.
I now had to get a copy of the Quran. The library had one, but it
was gone. No bookstore around had a copy. That left one place that
I knew of , and that was ISNA (Islamic Society of North America)!!
I had heard from Christians that there were snipers on the roof who
shot at people who trespassed! I went anyway I was so desperate for
God and there I met Habibe. She talked to me for a long while and
was very sweet. Not only did I get a copy of the Quran but she also
gave me prayer books , general books and pamphlets. Tarek had sent
me some studies and a beautiful picture of a star nebula that I
printed off and before that evening I had read all the pamphlets. I
made a mistake though; I left my studies on the couch where my
husband found them. He threw them and the picture of the nebula in
the fire and yelled that I was bringing Satan into the home. He
said if he found my Quran he would roast it either in the oven or in
the fire and I hid it. He tore up the house looking for it. I
began planning my day so I would come home when he left, and leave
when he came home. For the week we might see each other for only 15
minutes or so. My marriage was nearly over. The rest of the time I
was studying or in my favorite spot in the forestry where I would
cry and talk to God.
One Friday I went to the mosque for prayer. I sat on the side and
the first time I heard the Azzan I cried. I felt relaxed there for
the first time in months. What was happening to me??
I was reading the Quran every day. Things were coming into sharp
focus. The view of God in the Quran is very different from the
Biblical God. This God made sense. At this time some of the
leadership at church approached me to be president of a chapter of a
nationwide women's organization. One of the "outreaches" of this
organization is to lead Muslim women out of Islam and into
Chrisitianity! I had just met Habibe.. she didn't needed
converting! She was more together than any woman I knew at church!
I told them tentatively that I was not the one for this job when
they told me God had told them (and God had spoken to the statewide
people too) that I was the one! Wow ! So now I had God “against”
me. I told them I would preside over the first few meetings and the
first meeting was packed with many women. I led the song service,
and spoke very neutrally. I actually just spent my time on empty
verbage as I couldn't talk a Christian message.
Then I read the Quran some more and something
clicked. That was it. I quit song service and presiding over the
women's group. I attended mosque and quit attending church. One
night when I didn't expect my husband to come home, he did. After a
violent outburst I asked him to leave the house and surprisingly, he
did. Things began unraveling. My family was so upset at what I was
doing; my marriage was over; the church couldn't believe what had
happened, and news travels fast in a small town. I had to set my
face for anything just to go to the store. Still I searched! News
began to fly that I had become a Muslim. I hadn't pronounced my
Shahadah (testimony of faith) yet!
I told Tarek that all my questions were answered except one: about
the diety of Jesus. I remembered Sunday School and being so afraid
of not accepting Jesus right because he was the only way to God, you
see. Tarek didn't send me a lot at this time actually only two
concentrated studies. I printed them and studied. In one study, 1
John 5:7 was said to be an addition to the text, not an original
verse. That verse became my Ace.. if that verse was in question,
then I had to admit Jesus may not be God. I went to the State
Library and did some research. I found that the information was
correct, that this verse was indeed in question. I sat in the
library for a long time in a daze.
I went home and admitted to God that He was God alone. There was no
one beside him. Instead of being struck with lightning I felt
peace! People in the town would approach me and say things, but I
had a peace I had never had before. The town printed my divorce in
the paper. I read a book on Tawheed and made my decision to take my
Shahadah. One night I admitted to God that He was One and Only God
and Mohammed was the messenger of God. I had no doubts as I had
studied through every single one. That night I prayed my first
prayer, Fajr. I was broken as circumstances were very difficult for
me, as my family was upset and not accepting to say the least.
After my prayer with my head on the floor I talked to God about
everything and I knew He heard me. I knew it! I can't tell you
what that was like for me, it was as if I had been in a thirst so
deep my throat was burning fire and then I had a cool drink of
healing. It was everything I had ever wanted from God all wrapped
up in a few moments of time.
Since then I have had to move, and had to deal with staples in my
tires from angry people who are blaming all Muslims for September
11th; I have been yelled at, spit at; my family is still not
accepting. This is small compared to the weight of Islam though;
As Islam!-what can I say? It's beautiful and all compassing and
lovely in every way. God is sensible and understandable; women are
respected and honored; men are honored and respectable! Children
are protected; Islam offers everything Christianity claims to and
more but the difference is, Islam delivers. Islam is not some weak
religion because there is nothing more powerful than actually
connecting with God and that is what Islam does.
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The soul that rises with us, our life's star..
W.Wordsworth, 'Imitations of Immortality', Poems, 1807
