The story of Amira
Six years ago, I fled my home because of war. My family crossed into a neighboring country accepting refugees. A local church offered food to those in need. I did not want to take their food. As a Muslim, accepting help from the Christian brings shame and dishonor. We would risk god’s anger if we went to the Christians for help. I had five hungry children. I went anyway.
Time after time, I accepted food packages from the church, and time after time, a kind woman invited me to enter the chapel and see the worship meeting. I refused because as a Muslim, I don’t have to listen to the gospel, or the Bible or the Christian. But the lady continued encouraging me to come and see, so I entered the church meeting.
I listened to the songs in the worship time, and I listened to how they prayed. They prayed in the name of Jesus. For me, this was not good, not the right thing. The meeting closed with a song in Arabic called God Bless My Country. As they sang, I saw everything I had faced in my homeland in my mind. I wept thinking of my country destroyed; my family forced from our home. When the meeting ended, I noticed a different spirit in the place. The people here loved each other, shared food with each other, and respected each other.
I found myself drawn to the church. I liked to listen to them pray and sing. I asked my husband to permit me to go back, but he refused. He said, “They have their religion, and we have our own. Let everyone live in peace and stay at home.” I went anyway.
The pastor spoke about the authority of Jesus as the Son of God. But I grew up believing Jesus is a prophet like all the prophets, like Muhammed. I started to compare the Quran and the Bible. Which was right and which was wrong? I saw the God of the Bible as holy and honest, wanting people to be like Him.
I liked these right things about Jesus and the Bible, and I accepted these right things more than the Quran. Each time I prayed in Jesus’ name God answered me. I searched the Bible, and I found Jesus is the Son of God, and He died for our sins. I am a sinner. I need him to forgive my sins and wash me from my sins because I want to be in heaven, in the garden. After six months, I gave my life to Jesus—completely to Him.
My husband started to notice the change in me. In the past, I was full of hate, but now I was soft between God’s hands, and I could love people. Now I gave kindness to others. God filled our home with peace;
so much peace. My husband started to read the Bible, and this changed him. Two years later, my husband also became a Christ-follower. Praise be to the one True God!
*Names have been changed for security reasons