Try Me, I Am Jesus

Returning home that evening, I saw a large number of shoes outside my house. I instantly knew that something had happened and that I was in trouble. I quickly uttered a prayer for protection and wisdom from the Lord. I felt the presence of Jesus close by my side. When I entered the single room of the house, there was a big crowd. It was comprised of my uncles, aunts, near and far relatives, friends, and the elders from the mosque I had frequented just a few months prior. I knew immediately that my “secret life with Jesus” was now public. Utter chaos ruled as I entered the room. Some of my relatives were shouting at me, some started beating me with their fists, and others called me an infidel who had committed shameful acts. The older women were sitting in a corner, wailing loudly and mourning for the acts that I had committed, yet a few other aunts of mine tried to protect me from the barrage of blows and spoke to me lovingly. The elders of the mosque sat in one corner quietly taking in all that was happening in front of their eyes.

After the initial fury had subsided, I was forced to sit in their midst. My relatives started asking me many questions. “Why did you do such a shameful thing?” one of my uncles asked. My cousins said, “You have disgraced not only yourself but also all of us. No one in our world has ever heard of such a thing that you have done.” My aunt tried to coerce a reply out of me and asked, “Did the Christians promise you much wealth, did they promise you a prosperous future in some western country, or have you just gone mad to forsake Islam and follow an inferior path?” There was again a barrage of physical blows from someone, and one relative pulled the assailant back from me. The elders of the mosque began talking. One said that by forsaking Islam, which is “the straight path,” I had brought down a curse not only upon myself but also upon my family.

Another said that when someone forsakes Islam, the Hadith commands us to kill that person. 

For the prophet said, “if somebody (a Muslim) discards his religion, kill him” 

— Sahih Bukhari, Vol. 4, Book 52, #260

Some of my uncles started threatening me by saying that I might end up being killed if I continued down the same path. The elders insisted that the Christians are deceitful people who are themselves deceived by lies. They declared again from the Qur’an that God is one and cannot have a son. I had been taught this hundreds of times before. 

“Say: He is Allah, the One; Allah, the Eternal, Absolute; He begetteth not, 

nor is He begotten; And there is none like unto Him.” —Surat al Ikhlaas (112):1–4 

They asserted that the Bible, which the Christians believe in, is corrupted to the core and does not contain an ounce of truth. They also said that the Christians worship not one but three gods, which is considered shirk, an unforgivable sin of associating partners with Allah. They said many other such things, trying to dissuade me from following Jesus and force me back to Islam. They also gave me many books written by Ahmed Deedat and other local Muslim authors from our country, which proclaimed similar things about the Christian faith. I read them all in the days that followed. This “interrogation” lasted for nearly six hours. Since it was close to midnight, many of them left, only because they were tired. I knew this would continue. As I read through all the books, the Lord Jesus guarded my heart and helped me stand firm in Him. While reading all the objections of Ahmed Deedat, who totally degraded the Christian faith, I felt confused at times and sometimes doubtful as to whether I had made the right decision. Whenever the doubts came, the voice that I had heard in the park resounded in my ears, “Try Me. I am Jesus,” and an assurance settled over my confused heart that I was, indeed, walking on the right path. These meetings in our house continued for the next three years. Initially every day, at least one of my relatives and the elders of the mosque were present. Eventually, there were weekly meetings. Then they occurred once every few weeks. Every meeting was typical of the first one, characterized by physical beatings, calling down curses, threats, advice, and the like. I became used to these things. On one particular occasion, one of my cousins sprang to his feet, placed a knife at my throat …