( সূত্র ;- INTER NET থেকে প্রাপ্ত )
ধর্ম বিশ্বাস নিয়ে আজকাল অনেক সংবাদ প্রত্যেক দিন প্রকাশিত হয় ৷ এর প্রায় ৯৯% এ অমুসলিমদের শান্তির ধর্ম ইসলাম ধর্ম গ্রহণ করে মুসলমান হয়ে যাওয়া সংক্রান্ত সংবাদ ৷ কিন্তু মার্ক গ্রেভিয়েলের সংবাদ কোনো মিডিয়াতে প্রকাশিত হয়েছে বলে শুনা যায় না ৷ কিন্তু এই সংবাদটি সত্য এবং ১০০% সত্য সংবাদ ৷ এই রকম অনেক সংবাদই মানুষকে জানতে দেয়া হয় না , যেমন নিউ মুসলিমরা কত দিন পর্যন্ত তাদের গ্রহণকৃত ধর্মে ঠকে থাকেন ? কি স্বার্থে তারা ইসলাম ধর্ম গ্রহণ করেছিলেন এবং কি জন্যে ২/ ৪ বছর শেষ না হতেই তা তারা আবার ত্যাগ করলেন ৷ বছরে কতজন ইসলাম ধর্ম প্রহণ করেন এবং ঐ একই সময় কত জন ইসলাম ধর্ম ত্যাগ করেন তা কিন্তু জানানো হয় না ৷ ত্যাগ করা ছাড়া শুধু গ্রহণ করার খবরটি প্রকাশ পায় ৷ নিম্নে একটি অভিনব ঘটনার সংবাদ পাব একেবারে জড়িত ব্যক্তির নিজের জবানীতে ৷ অবশ্য ইংরেজি তে ৷
ধর্ম বিশ্বাস নিয়ে আজকাল অনেক সংবাদ প্রত্যেক দিন প্রকাশিত হয় ৷ এর প্রায় ৯৯% এ অমুসলিমদের শান্তির ধর্ম ইসলাম ধর্ম গ্রহণ করে মুসলমান হয়ে যাওয়া সংক্রান্ত সংবাদ ৷ কিন্তু মার্ক গ্রেভিয়েলের সংবাদ কোনো মিডিয়াতে প্রকাশিত হয়েছে বলে শুনা যায় না ৷ কিন্তু এই সংবাদটি সত্য এবং ১০০% সত্য সংবাদ ৷ এই রকম অনেক সংবাদই মানুষকে জানতে দেয়া হয় না , যেমন নিউ মুসলিমরা কত দিন পর্যন্ত তাদের গ্রহণকৃত ধর্মে ঠকে থাকেন ? কি স্বার্থে তারা ইসলাম ধর্ম গ্রহণ করেছিলেন এবং কি জন্যে ২/ ৪ বছর শেষ না হতেই তা তারা আবার ত্যাগ করলেন ৷ বছরে কতজন ইসলাম ধর্ম প্রহণ করেন এবং ঐ একই সময় কত জন ইসলাম ধর্ম ত্যাগ করেন তা কিন্তু জানানো হয় না ৷ ত্যাগ করা ছাড়া শুধু গ্রহণ করার খবরটি প্রকাশ পায় ৷ নিম্নে একটি অভিনব ঘটনার সংবাদ পাব একেবারে জড়িত ব্যক্তির নিজের জবানীতে ৷ অবশ্য ইংরেজি তে ৷
The Mark Gabriel's Testimony (Islam)
Story of M A Gabriel
The former professor
of Islamic history at Al-Azhar
University ,
Cairo ,
Egypt
Disillusioned at
Al-Azhar
Fifteen years ago I was the imam of a mosque
in the city of Giza , Egypt , which is where the
famous Egyptian pyramids are located. (Imam of a mosque is a position similar
to pastor of a Christian church.) I preached the message of the week on Fridays
from 12 to 1 in the afternoon, as well as performed other duties.
One Friday the topic of my message was
jihad. I told the two hundred fifty people seated on the ground before me:
Jihad in Islam is defending the Islamic nation and Islam against the attacks of
the enemies. Islam is a religion of peace and only will fight against one who
fights it. These infidels, heathens, perverts, Christians and Allah’s grievers,
the Jews, out of envy of peaceful Islam and its prophet—they spread the myth
that Islam is promulgated by the sword and violence. These infidels, the
accusers of Islam, do not acknowledge Allah’s words. At this point I quoted
from the Quran: And do not kill anyone whose killing Allah has forbidden,
except for a just cause. —Surah 17:33 , The Noble Quran
When I spoke these words, I was just freshly graduated from Al-Azhar University in Cairo , Egypt —the oldest and
most prestigious Islamic university in the world. It serves as the spiritual
authority for Islam worldwide. I was teaching at the university, and I was an
imam on the weekend at this mosque.
I preached my sermon on jihad that day according
to the philosophy of the Egyptian government. Al-Azhar University focused us on the
politically correct Islam and purposely overlooked areas of teaching that
conflicted with the authority of Egypt . I was preaching
what they taught me, but inside I was confused about the truth of Islam. But if
I wanted to keep my job and my status at Al-Azhar, I needed to keep my thoughts
to myself. After all, I knew what happened to people who differed from
Al-Azhar’s agenda. They would be fired and would not be accepted to teach at
any other university in the nation.
However, I knew that what I was teaching at
the mosque and at Al-Azhar was not what I’d seen in the Quran, which I had
memorized in its entirety by the age of twelve. What confused me the most was
that I was told to preach about an Islam of love, kindness and forgiveness. At
the same time, Muslim fundamentalists—the ones who were supposed to be
practicing true Islam—were bombing churches and killing Christians.
At this time the jihad movement was very active
in Egypt . Reports of
bombings and attacks against Christians were common. It was such apart of
everyday life that one time I heard a bomb go off at a church as I was riding
the bus. I looked and saw a plume of smoke rising up a quarter mile away.
I had been raised in a family that was well
established in Islam, and I had studied Islamic history. I was not involved in
any radical groups. But one of my Muslim friends was a member of an Islamic
group that was actively slaughtering Christians. Ironically, he was a chemistry
student and had only recently become serious about his faith. Nevertheless, he
was active in jihad. One day I asked him, “Why are you killing our neighbors
and countrymen whom we grew up with?”
He was angry and astonished at my challenge.
“Out of all Muslims you should know. The Christians did not accept the call of
Islam, and they are not willing to pay us the jizyah (tax) to have the right to
practice their beliefs. Therefore, the only option they have is the sword of
Islamic law.”
Seeking the Truth
My conversations with him drove me to pour
over the Quran and the books of the Islamic law, hoping to find something to
contradict what he said. I couldn’t change the reality of what I read. As a
Muslim, I realized I had two options:
· I could continue to embrace the
“Christianized” Islam—the Islam of peace, love, forgiveness and compassion, the
Islam tailor-made to fit Egyptian government, politics and culture—thereby
keeping my job and status.
· I could become a member of the Islamic
movement and embrace Islam according to the Quran and the teachings of
Muhammad. Muhammad said, “I left you with something [the Quran]. If you hold on
to what I left with you, you will not be led astray forever.”
Many times I tried to rationalize the kind
of Islam I was practicing by saying to myself, well, you are not too far out.
After all, there are verses in the Quran about love, peace, forgiveness and
compassion. You only need to ignore the part about jihad and the killing of the
non-Muslims. I went to every interpretation of the Quran trying to avoid jihad
and killing non-Muslims, yet I kept finding support of the practice. The
scholars agreed that Muslims should enforce jihad on infidels (those who reject
Islam) and renegades (those who leave Islam). Yet jihad was not in harmony with
other verses that spoke of living at peace with others. All the contradictions
in the Quran were really causing a problem for my faith. I spent four years to
earn my bachelor’s degree, graduating second out of a class of six thousand.
Then there was another four years for my master’s and three more for my
doctorate—all studying Islam. I knew the teachings well.
In one place alcohol was forbidden; in
another it was allowed(compare Surah 5:90–91 with Surah 47:15). In one place it
says Christians are very good people who love and worship one God, so you may
be friends with them (Surah 2:62, 3:113–114). Then you find other verses that
say Christians must convert, pay tax or be killed by the sword (Surah 9:29 ). The scholars had theological solutions to these
problems, but I wondered how Allah, almighty and all powerful, could either
contradict himself so much or change his mind so much.
Even the prophet of Islam, Muhammad,
practiced his faith in ways that contradicted the Quran. The Quran said
Muhammad was sent to show the mercy of God to the world. But he became a
military dictator, attacking, killing and taking plunder to finance his empire.
How is that showing mercy? Allah, the god revealed in the Quran, is not a
loving father. It says that he desires to lead people astray (Surah 6:39 , 126). He does not help those who are led astray by
him (Surah 30:29) and desires to use them to populate hell (Surah 32:13).
Islam is full of discrimination—against
women, against non-Muslims, against Christians and most especially against
Jews. Hatred is built in to the religion.
The history of Islam, which was my special
area of study, could only be characterized as a river of blood.
Dangerous
Questions
Finally, I reached the point where I was
questioning the faith and the Quran with my students at the university. Some of
them were members of terrorist movements, and they were enraged: “You can’t
accuse Islam. What has happened to you? You have to teach us. You have to agree
to Islam.” The university heard about it, and I was called in for a meeting in
December 1991. To summarize the meeting, I told them what was in my heart: “I
can no longer say that the Quran comes directly from heaven or from Allah. This
cannot be the revelation of the true God.”
These were very blasphemous words, in their
opinion. They spat in my face. One man cursed me, “You blasphemer. You
bastard.” The university fired me and called the Egyptian secret police. The
Secret Police Kidnapped Me to understand what happened next; you need to have a
picture of how my family lived. My father had a very large home that was three
stories tall. My whole family lived together in this house—my parents, my four
married brothers with their families, my unmarried brother and myself. Only my
sister lived elsewhere because she was married and lived with her husband. The
house was divided into many apartments, and we were very comfortable. On the
first floor were my parents’ apartment and an apartment I shared with my
brother. On the floors above us were apartments for my other brothers. At three o’clock in the morning on the very same day that
the university kicked me out, my father heard knocking at the door of our
house. When he opened the door, fifteen to twenty men rushed in carrying
Russian Kalashnikov assault weapons. They were not wearing uniforms, just
regular clothes. They ran upstairs and all through the house, waking people up
and looking for me. I think so many men came in at once so that I couldn’t run
away before they found me.
They were all over the house before one of
them found me asleep in my bed. My parents, brothers, spouses and children were
awake, weeping and terrified, as they dragged me away. Everybody in the area
heard the commotion.
I was taken to a place that looked like a
prison and was placed in a cell. In the morning my parents frantically tried to
figure out what had happened to me. Right away they went to the police station
and demanded, “Where is our son?” But nobody knew anything about me. I was in
the hands of the Egyptian secret police.
The Egyptian
Prison
Spending time with the Egyptian secret
police is much different than a visit to an American prison. They put me in a
cell with two radical Muslims accused of committing terrorist acts. One was
Palestinian and the other Egyptian.
For three days I was given no food or water.
Every day the Egyptian man asked me, “Why are you here?” I refused to answer
because I was afraid he would kill me if he knew that I had questioned Islam.
On the third day, I told him I was a teacher at Al-Azhar University and an imam in Giza . Immediately he
gave me a plastic bottle of water and some falafel and pita that were brought
to him by his visitors, but he told me that the police had warned him not to
give me anything. On the fourth day, the interrogation began. For the next four
days the goal of the secret police was to make me confess that I had left Islam
and to explain how it happened.
The interrogation began in a room with a
large desk. My interrogator sat behind the desk, and I sat on the other side.
Behind me were two or three police officers.
They were sure that I had been evangelized
and converted to Christianity, so the interrogator kept badgering me, “What
pastor did you talk to? What church have you been visiting? Why have you
betrayed Islam?” He asked many questions. One time I hesitated too long when I
answered. He nodded to the men behind me. They grabbed my hand and held it down
on the desk. My interrogator held a lit cigarette. He reached over and
extinguished it into the top of my hand. I still have this scar. I also have
the scar on my lip where he did the same thing. Sometimes he used the
cigarettes when he got angry; other times the officers just hit me across my
face.
As my interrogation continued, the pressure
grew stronger. One time they brought a fire poker into the room (the iron rod
that you use to move burning wood in a fire). I wondered, what is that for? The
next time the interrogator wanted to make his point, I found out. The poker was
red hot, and one officer pressed it into the flesh of my left arm.
They wanted me to confess that I had been
converted, but I said, “I didn’t betray Islam. I just said what I believe. I am
an academic person. I am a thinker. I have a right to discuss any subject of
Islam. This is part of my job and part of any academic life. I could not even
dream of converting from Islam—it is my blood, my culture, my language, my
family, my life. But if you accuse me of converting from Islam for what I say
to you, then take me out of Islam. I don’t mind to be out of Islam.”
The Whip
My answer was not what they wanted to hear.
I was taken to a room with a steel bed in it. They tied my feet to the foot of
the bed and then put heavy stockings on them, almost like oven mitts.
One officer had a black whip, about four
feet long, and he began whipping my feet. Another officer sat down next to me
at the head of the bed with a pillow in his hands. When I cried out, he pushed
the pillow into my face until I was quiet. I could not stop crying out, so a
second officer came to put an extra pillow over my face.
As I was beaten I went unconscious, but when
I woke up the officer was still whipping my feet. Then he stopped and they
untied me, and one officer commanded, “Stand up.” I couldn’t at first, but he
took the whip and beat my back until I stood.
Then he showed me a long passageway and
said, “Run.” Again, when I couldn’t do it, he whipped my back until I ran down
the passageway. When I got to the end, there was another officer waiting for
me. He whipped me until I ran back to where I came from. They made me run back
and forth. Later, I learned why they did that. The running was so that my feet
wouldn’t swell. The stockings were so I wouldn’t have marks on my feet from the
whipping. I assume the pillows were so nobody could hear my cries. Next I was
taken to something that looked like a small, aboveground swimming pool. It was
filled with ice-cold water. The officer with the whip said, “Get in,” so I got
in. It was so cold that I tried to get out, but he whipped me every time I made
a move.
I have low blood sugar, and it wasn’t very
long before I passed out from the cold. When I woke up I was lying on my back
in the bed where they whipped my feet, still in my wet clothes.
A Night in the
Dark
One evening I was taken outside behind the
building. I saw what looked like a small, concrete room with no windows or
doors. The only opening was a skylight on the roof. They made me climb a ladder
to the top and demanded, “Get in.” When I sat on the edge and put my feet down
in the opening, I felt water. I could also see there was something swimming on
the top of the water. This is my grave, I thought. They are going to kill me
today. I slid down into the opening and felt the water rise up over my body,
but then to my surprise I felt solid ground under my feet. The water only came
up to my shoulders. Then rats, which were what I saw swimming in the water,
started crawling all over my head and face. These rats had not been fed for a
very long time. My interrogators were being clever. “This guy is a Muslim
thinker,” they said, “so we will have the rats eat his head.” I was very scared
for the first minute after they closed the skylight. They left me there all
night and then came back the next morning to see if I were alive. When the
skylight opened and I saw the sunlight, it was hope for me that I had survived
and was still alive.
All that night not one rat bit me. They
climbed all over my head and in my hair and played with my ears. One rat stood
on my shoulders. I felt their mouths against my face, but it almost felt like
kisses. I never felt a tooth. The rats were utterly faithful to me. Even today
when I see a rat, I have a feeling of respect. I cannot explain why the rats
behaved this way. Meeting with a Dear Friend The interrogation was not over.
Later the officers took me to the door of a small room and said, “There is
someone who loves you very much who wants to meet with you.” I asked, “Who is
this?” I was hoping it was one of my family members or a friend to visit me or
get me out of prison. They said, “You don’t know him, but he knows you.” They
opened the door to the room, and inside I saw a big dog. There was nothing else
in the room. Two people took me inside and then left me and shut the door. This
was the first time my heart cried out. In my heart I cried to my Creator, You
are my father, my God.You are to look after me. How can you leave me in these
evil hands? I don’t know what these people are trying to do to me, but I know
you will be with me and one day I will see you and meet you.
I walked to the middle of the empty room and
slowly sat down cross-legged on the floor. The dog came and sat down in front
of me. Minutes went by as this dog looked me over. I watched his eyes move from
top to bottom over and over again. I went in my heart to prayer to the God I
did not yet know. The dog got up and started walking in circles around me,
liken animal about to eat something. Then he came to my right side and licked
year with his tongue. He sat down by my right side and just stayed there. I was
so exhausted. After he just sat there for a while, I fell asleep. When I woke
up, the dog was in the corner of the room. He ran to me, as if to say good
morning. Then he licked my right ear again and sat down again at my right side.
When the officers opened the door they saw
me praying with the dog sitting next to me. I heard one say, “I can’t believe
this man is a human being. This man is a devil—he’s Satan.” The other replied,
“I don’t believe that. There is unseen power standing behind this man and
protecting him.” “Which power? This man is an infidel. It’s got to be Satan
because this man is against Allah.”
Someone watching over me they took me back
to my cell. While I was gone, my Egyptian cellmate had asked the police, “Why
are you persecuting this man?” They told him, “Because he is denying Islam.”
That made my cellmate furious. As soon as I got back in the cell, he was ready
to kill me. But I had only been in there fifteen to twenty minutes when a
police officer came with transfer papers for this man and took him away. I had
to ask myself, What is going on here? What power is protecting me? At that
time, I did not know the answer. I did not spend much time wondering about it.
In a short while my own transfer papers came through. I was to be taken to a
permanent prison in southern Cairo . At this point I
did not think that my interrogators were even human. I had been arrested for
merely questioning Islam. Now my faith was really shaken. And I was on my way
to another prison.
The next week I spent in a prison in
southern Cairo . It was relatively
relaxed time. God sent me a prison guard who did not agree with radical Islam.
All during this time my family was trying to find out where I was. They had no
success until my mother’s brother, who was a high-ranking member of the
Egyptian Parliament, returned to the country after traveling overseas. My
mother called him, sobbing, “For two weeks we have not known where our son is.
He is gone.” My uncle had the connections that were needed. Fifteen days after
I was kidnapped, he came to the prison personally with the release papers and
took me home.
Later, the police gave my father this
report: We have received a fax from Al-Azhar University accusing your son
of leaving Islam, but after an interrogation of fifteen days, we found no
evidence to support it. My father was relieved to hear this. Out of all my
brothers and sisters, I was the only one who had studied Islam at the
university, and he was very proud of me. He could not even imagine I would ever
leave Islam, so he attributed the whole incident to a bad attitude toward my
scholarship on the part of the people at the university.
“We don’t need them,” he said, and he asked
me to start work immediately as a sales director for his factory. He owned a
successful business that produced leather jackets and men’s and women’s
clothing.
A Year without
Faith
For one year I lived without any faith. I
had no God to pray to, to call to, to live for. I believed in the existence of
a God who was merciful and righteous, but I had no idea who He was. Was He the
God of the Muslims, the Christians or the Jews? Or was He some animal—like the
cow of the Hindus? I had no knowledge of how to find Him.
You have to understand that if a Muslim
comes to the conclusion that Islam is not the truth and he has no religion to
turn to, it is the most difficult time in his life. Faith is in the fabric of
the life of a Middle Eastern person. He cannot imagine how to live without
knowing his God. During this whole year, my physical body expressed the pain
that was in my spirit. Though I had every material thing I needed, I was
plagued with a deep tiredness from constantly trying to use my mind to figure
out the identity of the true God. I suffered constantly from headaches. I went
to a doctor who was a relative of the family. He did a scan of my brain, but
heeded not find anything wrong. He prescribed some tablets that helped.
The Sermon on the
Mount
I ended up visiting a nearby pharmacy one or
two times a week for packets of tablets, getting a small number of tablets each
time, hoping the headaches would just go away for good. After I had been coming
for a while, the pharmacist asked me, “What is going on in your life?” I told
her, “Nothing is going on. I have no complaint except for one thing: I am
living without God. I don’t know who is my God, who created me and created the
universe.”
She said, “But you were a professor at the
most respected Islamic university in Egypt . Your family is
very respected in the community.” “That is true,” I replied, “but I have
discovered falsehoods in their teachings. I no longer believe my home and
family are built on a foundation of truth. I had always clothed myself in the
lies of Islam. Now I feel naked. How can I fill the emptiness in my heart?
Please help me. ” “OK,” she said. “Today I will give you these tablets, and I
will give you this book—the Bible. But please promise me not to take any
tablets before you read something from this book.” I took the book home and
opened it at random. My eyes fell on Matthew 5:38: You have heard that it was
said, “Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.” But I tell you, do not resist an evil
person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.
My whole body began trembling. I had studied
the Quran my whole life—not once did I find words as inspiring as this. I had
come face to face with the Lord Jesus Christ.
I lost all track of time. It felt as if I
were sitting on a cloud above a hill, and in front of me was the greatest
teacher in the universe telling me about the secrets of heaven and the heart of
God. I could easily compare the Bible to what I had learned from my years of
studying the Quran, and there was no doubt in my mind that I was finally
encountering the true God. I was still reading in the early hours of the next
day, and by dawn I gave my heart to Jesus.
Ambushed
I only told the pharmacist and his wife that
I had accepted Jesus, but in Egypt , if anyone left
Islam, it was automatically assumed that he had become a Christian and
therefore must be killed. Because of this, fundamentalists sent two men to
ambush me and kill me. It happened when I was walking home from visiting a
friend. It was only a fifteen- or twenty-minute walk through Giza . I was on Tersae Street , near my home,
when I saw two men standing in front of a grocery shop. They we redressed
traditionally with the long, white robes, long beards and head coverings. I
thought they were just customers. I never imagined they would do anything to
me.
When I reached the shop, they stopped me, and
then suddenly both pulled out knives and began trying to stab me. I had no
weapon, and because it was a hot day, I was just wearing a T-shirt and pants. I
put up my hands to protect myself. Again and again the blades struck me and cut
my wrists. There were other people on the street, but no one helped me. They
just gathered to watch. This was typical for those years. People would
intervene if it was just a fistfight, but they wouldn’t get involved with
knives. They also didn’t want to be in the way if someone pulled a gun. The
first attacker was trying to stab my heart. He almost did it, but I moved. He
missed by about five inches and got me in the shoulder instead. When he pulled
the knife out, I remember looking down and seeing the blood come out in a stream.
I fell to the ground and just curled up in a
little ball, trying to protect myself. Then the other attacker tried to stab me
in the stomach, but the blade turned, and he stabbed me in the shin instead. By
this time I had lost so much blood that I passed out. There was no hope for me
until two police officers arrived on motorcycles and my attackers ran away. I
was taken to the hospital and treated. In the hospital, the police asked if I
knew why I was attacked. I said I did not. Again, my father rejected any
evidence that I was abandoning Islam. He just could not think in those terms.
My Father Learns
the Truth
I continued to work for my father and did
not speak of my new faith. In fact, he sent me to South Africa in 1994 to explore
business opportunities for him. While there, I spent three days with a
Christian family from India .When we parted,
they gave me a small cross on a necklace to wear. This small cross marked the
turning point in my life. After a little more than a week, my father noticed
the chain on my neck and became very upset because, according to Islamic
culture, only women are allowed to wear jewelry around their necks. “Why do you
wear this chain?” he demanded.
It seemed as if my tongue spoke on its own
as I replied,” Father, this is not a chain. This is a cross. It represents
Jesus, who died on a cross like this for me, for you and for everybody in the
whole world. I received Jesus as my God and Savior, and I pray for you and for
the rest of my family to also accept Jesus Christ as your Savior.”
First, my father fainted right there in the
street. Some of my brothers rushed out to him, and my mother started crying in
fear. I stayed with them as they bathed my father’s face with water. When he
came to, he was so upset he could hardly speak, but he pointed at me. In a
voice hoarse with rage he cried out, “Your brother is a convert. I must kill
him today!”
Wherever he went, my father carried a gun
under his arm on a leather strap. (Most wealthy people in Egypt carry guns.) He
pulled out his gun and pointed it at me. I started running down the street, and
as I dived around a corner, I heard the bullets whining past me. I kept running
for my life.
Leaving My Home
Forever I ran to my sister’s house, which
was about half a mile away. I asked her to help me get my passport, clothes and
other documents from my father’s house. She wanted to know what was wrong, and
I told her, “Father wants to kill me.” She wanted to know why, and I said, “I
don’t know. You must ask Father.”
When I ran away, my father knew exactly
where I was headed because my sister and I were very close, and her house was
nearby. My father had walked to my sister’s house, and he arrived while she and
I were talking. He banged on the door, crying with tears streaming down his
face, “My daughter, please open the door.” Then he shouted, “Your brother is a
convert! He has left the Islamic faith. I must kill him now!”
My sister opened the door and tried to calm
him down. “Father, he is not here. Maybe he went to another place. Why don’t you
go home and relax, and later we can talk about this as a family.” My sister had
mercy on me and gathered my things from my parents’ house. She and my mother
gave me some money, and I got in my car and drove away on the evening of August 28, 1994 .
For three months I struggled to travel
through Northern Egypt , Libya , Chad and Cameroon . I finally stopped
in the Congo . At that point I
had malaria. They found an Egyptian doctor to examine me. He said that I would
be dead by morning, and they made arrangements to get a coffin from Congo ’s Egyptian embassy
to send me back home.
To their shock, I woke up the next morning.
I left the hospital after five days and started to tell people everywhere about
what Jesus did for me.
Life as a Follower
of Jesus
Ten years have gone by since I accepted the
Lord Jesus as my Savior. He called me and gave me a personal relationship with
Him—something that Islam never offered.
I have never stopped crying for my Muslim
people, whom I left behind, asking the Lord to deliver them from the darkness
of Islam. As you read the pages of this book, you will come to understand how
great this darkness is. It is the teachings of Islam that have produced
terrorists who seem capable of any kind of evil in the name of Allah. Now the
whole world wants to understand what Islam teaches. A great amount of
misinformation has been shared in the media and on the Internet. My goal is to
help you see plainly why these people do what they do. I don’t want to motivate
you to anger, however. I want to motivate you to believe—to believe for the
fall of Islam and the release of its captives, in Jesus’ name.
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