Islam Act1v1st Burned BIBLES at NEW YORK But Then JESUS CHANGED EVERYTHING
My name 1s Anus.
I’m 32 years 0ld.
And 0n Oct0ber 8th, 2018, I was lead1ng a pr0test 1n Manhattan, burn1ng B1bles 0uts1de a Chr1st1an c0nference.
I was ab0ut t0 l1ght the seventh B1ble when s0meth1ng happened that changed my l1fe f0rever.
T0day, I’m a Chr1st1an past0r.
I was b0rn 1nt0 what y0u m1ght call a f0rtress 0f fa1th.
My father served as 1mam at the Mazj1d al-nur m0sque 1n Br00klyn, a p0s1t10n he had held f0r 0ver 20 years by the t1me I came 1nt0 th1s w0rld.
Every m0rn1ng I w0uld wake t0 the s0und 0f h1m prepar1ng f0r fajger prayer, h1s v01ce ech01ng s0ftly thr0ugh 0ur small apartment as he rec1ted verses fr0m the Quran.
My m0ther taught Quran classes t0 ch1ldren 1n 0ur c0mmun1ty.
Her gentle but f1rm v01ce gu1d1ng d0zens 0f y0ung m1nds thr0ugh the sacred text every week.
As the eldest 0f f0ur s1bl1ngs, I underst00d fr0m my earl1est mem0r1es that I was expected t0 f0ll0w 1n the1r f00tsteps t0 bec0me a rel1g10us leader wh0 w0uld carry 0ur fam1ly’s legacy f0rward.
The m0sque was my sec0nd h0me.
Wh1le 0ther ch1ldren spent the1r aftern00ns play1ng v1de0 games 0r watch1ng telev1s10n, I was mem0r1z1ng verses, learn1ng the pr0per pr0nunc1at10n 0f Arab1c w0rds and study1ng Islam1c h1st0ry.
By the t1me I turned 12, I had mem0r1zed nearly half 0f the Quran.
My father w0uld beam w1th pr1de when v1s1t0rs t0 0ur h0me heard me rec1te, and my m0ther w0uld qu1etly thank Allah f0r bless1ng her w1th such a dev0ted s0n.
I led prayers at the m0sque y0uth gr0up, feel1ng the we1ght 0f resp0ns1b1l1ty as y0unger b0ys l00ked up t0 me f0r gu1dance.
The sp1r1tual c0nnect10n I felt dur1ng th0se m0ments was real and p0werful.
When I pr0strated 1n prayer, I truly bel1eved I was c0mmun1cat1ng d1rectly w1th the creat0r 0f the un1verse.
Everyth1ng changed after September 11th, 2001.
I was 0nly 9 years 0ld, but I c0uld feel the sh1ft 1n h0w pe0ple l00ked at us.
My father rece1ved threaten1ng ph0ne calls at the m0sque.
My m0ther was spat 0n wh1le gr0cery sh0pp1ng, her h1jab, mak1ng her an easy target.
Classmates at sch00l w0uld wh1sper beh1nd my back, ask1ng each 0ther 1f my fam1ly were terr0r1sts.
The pa1n I saw 1n my parents’ eyes 1gn1ted s0meth1ng f1erce 1ns1de my y0ung heart.
I began t0 feel a pers0nal resp0ns1b1l1ty t0 defend n0t just my fam1ly but my ent1re fa1th c0mmun1ty.
In h1gh sch00l, I j01ned the Islam1c Student Ass0c1at10n and qu1ckly became 1ts m0st v0cal member.
I 0rgan1zed 1nterfa1th debates where I w0uld pass10nately argue f0r the truth 0f Islam and challenge what I saw as m1sc0ncept10ns ab0ut 0ur rel1g10n.
I spent c0untless h0urs research1ng Chr1st1an the0l0gy, n0t t0 understand 1t, but t0 f1nd flaws I c0uld exp0se.
I became sk1lled at p01nt1ng 0ut c0ntrad1ct10ns 1n the B1ble, quest10n1ng the Tr1n1ty, and argu1ng that Jesus was merely a pr0phet, n0t the s0n 0f G0d.
Each successful debate felt l1ke a small v1ct0ry f0r Allah and f0r my c0mmun1ty.
But my act1v1sm t00k a darker turn as I entered c0llege.
I started attend1ng study gr0ups led by m0re rad1cal v01ces 1n 0ur c0mmun1ty.
Men wh0 sp0ke ab0ut the systemat1c 0ppress10n 0f Musl1ms w0rldw1de and the need f0r act1ve res1stance.
They taught me that Chr1st1an1ty wasn’t just a d1fferent rel1g10n but a del1berate enemy 0f truth.
They sh0wed me stat1st1cs ab0ut Chr1st1an m1ss10nar1es target1ng Musl1m c0mmun1t1es, ab0ut c0nvers10n tact1cs they cla1med were decept1ve and man1pulat1ve.
I began t0 bel1eve that Chr1st1ans weren’t just wr0ng ab0ut Jesus.
They were act1vely ev1l, del1berately lead1ng pe0ple away fr0m salvat10n.
The break1ng p01nt came 1n 2016 when my y0unger br0ther Ahmed ann0unced t0 0ur fam1ly that he had bec0me a Chr1st1an.
I w1ll never f0rget the s0und my m0ther made when he t0ld us.
A whale 0f gr1ef s0 pr0f0und 1t seemed t0 shake the walls 0f 0ur h0me.
My father sat 1n stunned s1lence f0r nearly an h0ur bef0re qu1etly ask1ng Ahmed t0 leave and never return.
The fam1ly I had kn0wn and l0ved was shattered 1n a s1ngle even1ng.
Ahmed had been my cl0sest s1bl1ng, the 0ne wh0 l00ked up t0 me m0st.
And n0w he was g0ne.
I blamed Chr1st1an m1ss10nar1es ent1rely f0r what happened t0 Ahmed.
In my m1nd, they had st0len h1m fr0m us us1ng l1es and em0t10nal man1pulat10n.
They had destr0yed my fam1ly’s peace and br0ken my parents’ hearts.
The anger I felt wasn’t just the0l0g1cal anym0re.
It was deeply pers0nal.
Every Chr1st1an I enc0untered became the face 0f the pe0ple wh0 had taken my br0ther away fr0m Islam and fr0m 0ur fam1ly.
I v0wed that n1ght that I w0uld d0 everyth1ng 1n my p0wer t0 prevent 0ther Musl1m fam1l1es fr0m exper1enc1ng the same devastat10n.
My act1v1sm became my l1fe’s m1ss10n.
I 0rgan1zed c0unterpr0tests 0uts1de Chr1st1an events, espec1ally th0se that advert1sed Musl1m 0utreach pr0grams.
I d1str1buted l1terature 0uts1de churches 0n Fr1day even1ngs, h0p1ng t0 1ntercept any Musl1ms wh0 m1ght be cur10us ab0ut Chr1st1an1ty.
I created 0nl1ne c0ntent exp0s1ng what I called the decept1ve tact1cs 0f Chr1st1an evangel1sts.
Every c0nvert I prevented felt l1ke a v1ct0ry.
Every Chr1st1an argument I d1smantled felt l1ke just1ce f0r my br0ther’s betrayal and my fam1ly’s pa1n.
Th1nk ab0ut the m0st pass10nate c0nv1ct10n y0u’ve ever held.
S0meth1ng y0u bel1eve s0 deeply that y0u w0uld have sacr1f1ced everyth1ng f0r 1t.
That’s h0w I felt ab0ut 0pp0s1ng Chr1st1an1ty.
It wasn’t just an 1ntellectual p0s1t10n 0r a rel1g10us duty.
It was the f1re that burned 1n my chest every m0rn1ng when I w0ke up and every n1ght bef0re I fell asleep.
I genu1nely bel1eved that I was f1ght1ng a h0ly war aga1nst the enem1es 0f truth and I was prepared t0 ded1cate my ent1re l1fe t0 that battle.
By 2018, I had bu1lt a netw0rk 0f l1ke-m1nded act1v1sts acr0ss New Y0rk C1ty.
We m0n1t0red Chr1st1an events, 0rgan1zed pr0tests, and w0rked t0 exp0se what we saw as the false pr0m1ses 0f Chr1st1an1ty.
I had bec0me exactly what my parents had h0ped f0r, a str0ng defender 0f the fa1th.
But I had als0 bec0me s0meth1ng they never expected, a man c0nsumed by hatred f0r the f0ll0wers 0f Jesus Chr1st.
The ann0uncement came thr0ugh 0ur netw0rk 1n early September 2018.
A mass1ve Chr1st1an c0nference was scheduled f0r Manhattan.
3 days 0f what they called reach1ng the l0st w1th the l0ve 0f Chr1st.
When I read th0se w0rds 0n the1r pr0m0t10nal webs1te, my bl00d b01led.
The c0nference featured pr0m1nent Chr1st1an speakers, w0rsh1p leaders, and m0st c0ncern1ng t0 me, an ent1re track ded1cated t0 Musl1m evangel1sm.
They were advert1s1ng w0rksh0ps w1th t1tles l1ke understand1ng Islam1c culture and bu1ld1ng br1dges t0 Musl1m c0mmun1t1es.
T0 my eyes, th1s wasn’t br1dge bu1ld1ng.
Th1s was an 1nvas10n.
I spent h0urs study1ng the1r c0nference mater1als, read1ng thr0ugh speaker b10graph1es and w0rksh0p descr1pt10ns.
The m0re I learned, the m0re c0nv1nced I became that th1s event represented everyth1ng wr0ng w1th Chr1st1an1ty’s appr0ach t0 Islam.
They were plann1ng t0 tra1n hundreds 0f Chr1st1ans 1n what I saw as s0ph1st1cated man1pulat10n tact1cs des1gned t0 steal Musl1ms fr0m the1r fa1th.
The c0nference w0uld send these newly tra1ned m1ss10nar1es back t0 the1r c0mmun1t1es acr0ss the c0untry, armed w1th strateg1es t0 target vulnerable Musl1ms l1ke my br0ther had been.
The dec1s10n t0 0rgan1ze a c0unterpr0test came naturally.
But I knew 1t needed t0 be m0re than 0ur usual dem0nstrat10ns.
Stand1ng 0uts1de w1th s1gns and chants w0uldn’t be en0ugh t0 match the scale 0f what I perce1ved as the1r threat.
We needed s0meth1ng that w0uld capture med1a attent10n.
uh s0meth1ng that w0uld send a clear message t0 Chr1st1ans that the1r target1ng 0f Musl1ms w0uld n0t g0 un0pp0sed.
The 1dea 0f burn1ng B1bles came t0 me dur1ng a late n1ght plann1ng sess10n w1th my c0re gr0up 0f act1v1sts.
I remember the m0ment I suggested 1t, s1tt1ng 1n my apartment w1th f1ve 0ther men I had been 0rgan1z1ng w1th f0r 0ver 2 years.
The r00m fell s1lent as I la1d 0ut my reas0n1ng.
The B1ble was the f0undat10n 0f everyth1ng Chr1st1ans bel1eved.
I argued burn1ng the1r h0ly b00k w0uld symb0l1cally dem0nstrate the destruct10n 0f the1r false teach1ngs.
It w0uld sh0w them that we were n0t afra1d 0f the1r attempts t0 c0nvert us, that we rejected the1r cla1ms ab0ut Jesus w1th abs0lute c0nv1ct10n.
M0st 1mp0rtantly, 1t w0uld generate the k1nd 0f med1a c0verage that w0uld exp0se the1r evangel1st1c c0nference t0 publ1c scrut1ny.
My fell0w act1v1sts embraced the 1dea 1mmed1ately.
We began plann1ng what we called Operat10n Truth, a dem0nstrat10n that w0uld c0mb1ne trad1t10nal pr0test elements w1th the symb0l1c destruct10n 0f Chr1st1an scr1pture.
I v0lunteered t0 handle the c0llect10n 0f B1bles, a task that t00k me t0 places I had never 1mag1ned enter1ng as a dev0ut Musl1m.
I v1s1ted h0tel l0bb1es where B1ble sat 1n l0bby d1splays, c0llected them fr0m d0nat10n b0xes 0uts1de churches, and even purchased used c0p1es fr0m sec0ndhand b00kst0res.
Each B1ble I gathered felt l1ke ev1dence I was c0llect1ng f0r a tr1al, pr00f 0f Chr1st1an1ty’s false cla1ms ab0ut d1v1ne revelat10n.
The preparat10n pr0cess 1ntens1f1ed my hatred f0r Chr1st1an1ty 1n ways I hadn’t expected.
Handl1ng th0se B1bles, see1ng the w0rds pr1nted 1ns1de them, read1ng passages that cla1med Jesus was d1v1ne, 1t all felt l1ke h0ld1ng p01s0n 1n my hands.
I w0uld return h0me after each c0llect10n tr1p and spend extra t1me 1n Islam1c prayer, ask1ng Allah t0 cleanse me fr0m the c0ntam1nat10n 0f Chr1st1an l1es.
The 12 B1bles I eventually gathered sat 1n my apartment l1ke enemy weap0ns wa1t1ng t0 be destr0yed.
As Oct0ber 8th appr0ached, I reached 0ut t0 Islam1c gr0ups acr0ss the f1ve burr0ws, Musl1m student ass0c1at10ns at l0cal un1vers1t1es, and 1nd1v1dual act1v1sts I had c0nnected w1th thr0ugh s0c1al med1a.
My message was urgent and clear.
Chr1st1ans were plann1ng a mass1ve evangel1st1c assault 0n 0ur c0mmun1ty, and we needed t0 resp0nd w1th unprecedented f0rce.
The resp0nse exceeded my expectat10ns.
By the weekend bef0re the c0nference, I had c0mm1tments fr0m nearly 40 pe0ple t0 part1c1pate 1n 0ur dem0nstrat10n.
The n1ght bef0re Oct0ber 8th, I barely slept.
I spent h0urs rev1ew1ng my planned speeches, pract1c1ng the w0rds I w0uld speak as each B1ble burnt.
I rehearsed explanat10ns 0f why Chr1st1an1ty was false, why the Tr1n1ty was a pagan c0rrupt10n 0f m0n0the1sm, why Jesus was merely a pr0phet wh0se message had been d1st0rted by h1s f0ll0wers.
I prepared resp0nses t0 quest10ns rep0rters m1ght ask, craft1ng s0und b1tes that w0uld clearly art1culate 0ur p0s1t10n t0 the med1a.
Every w0rd needed t0 be perfect because I knew th1s w0uld be 0ur b1ggest platf0rm yet.
I w0ke that m0rn1ng feel1ng l1ke a s0ld1er prepar1ng f0r the m0st 1mp0rtant battle 0f h1s l1fe.
I perf0rmed extra prayers ask1ng Allah f0r strength and clar1ty.
I called my father at the m0sque and asked f0r h1s bless1ng 0n the day’s act1v1t1es.
Th0ugh I d1dn’t tell h1m spec1f1cally ab0ut the B1ble burn1ng plan, he prayed f0r my success 1n defend1ng the fa1th and t0ld me h0w pr0ud he was 0f my ded1cat10n t0 Islam1c truth.
Th0se w0rds fr0m h1m f1lled me w1th even m0re determ1nat10n t0 make the dem0nstrat10n successful.
The f1nal preparat10ns t00k place 1n Central Park where my c0re gr0up gathered at sunr1se t0 rev1ew 0ur plans and d1str1bute mater1als.
We had Islam1c l1terature t0 hand 0ut pr0test s1gns w1th carefully crafted messages and med1a c0ntact 1nf0rmat10n t0 ensure max1mum c0verage 0f 0ur act10ns.
I carr1ed the bag c0nta1n1ng the 12 B1bles, feel1ng the1r we1ght as a rem1nder 0f the symb0l1c p0wer 0f what we were ab0ut t0 d0.
Each b00k represented years 0f Chr1st1an decept10n that we w0uld destr0y 1n fr0nt 0f the w0rld.
As we began 0ur march t0ward the c0nference center 1n Manhattan, I felt an energy I had never exper1enced bef0re.
The gr0up was chant1ng Islam1c phrases, 0ur v01ces ech01ng 0ff the bu1ld1ngs as we m0ved thr0ugh the streets.
Pe0ple st0pped t0 watch us pass, s0me w1th cur10s1ty, 0thers w1th 0bv10us c0ncern.
I led the gr0up w1th c0mplete c0nf1dence 1n 0ur m1ss10n, carry1ng myself l1ke a general lead1ng tr00ps 1nt0 r1ghte0us battle.
The bag 0f B1bles felt heav1er w1th each step, but n0t fr0m phys1cal we1ght.
They carr1ed the we1ght 0f everyth1ng I bel1eved ab0ut Chr1st1an1ty’s threat t0 Islam1c truth.
Have y0u ever felt s0 certa1n ab0ut s0meth1ng that y0u w0uld stake everyth1ng 0n 1t? That m0rn1ng, walk1ng thr0ugh Manhattan t0ward what I bel1eved w0uld be 0ur greatest v1ct0ry aga1nst Chr1st1an decept10n, I had n0 d0ubt that we were d01ng Allah’s w0rk.
The c0nference center came 1nt0 v1ew, and I c0uld see Chr1st1ans already arr1v1ng f0r the1r m0rn1ng sess10n.
My heart raced w1th ant1c1pat10n as I prepared t0 sh0w them exactly what I th0ught 0f the1r attempts t0 steal Musl1ms fr0m the true fa1th.
The Manhattan C0nference Center st00d bef0re us l1ke a f0rtress 0f everyth1ng I desp1sed ab0ut Chr1st1an1ty.
Hundreds 0f pe0ple were stream1ng thr0ugh the ma1n entrance, carry1ng B1bles under the1r arms, wear1ng name tags w1th cheerful c0nference l0g0s, chatt1ng exc1tedly ab0ut the sess10ns they planned t0 attend.
Watch1ng them enter that bu1ld1ng felt l1ke watch1ng an army 0f decept10n, prepar1ng f0r battle aga1nst the truth.
I p0s1t10ned 0ur gr0up 0f pr0testers d1rectly acr0ss fr0m the ma1n entrance, ensur1ng max1mum v1s1b1l1ty f0r b0th the c0nference attendees and the med1a crews I’d c0ntacted the n1ght bef0re.
The c0ntrast between the1r j0y and my anger was stark and 1mmed1ate.
These Chr1st1ans were sm1l1ng, hugg1ng each 0ther, tak1ng self1es 1n fr0nt 0f the c0nference banners.
They l00ked l1ke pe0ple attend1ng a celebrat10n rather than what I saw as a tra1n1ng camp f0r rel1g10us warfare.
The1r happ1ness 1nfur1ated me because I knew 0r th0ught I knew that the1r j0y was bu1lt 0n l1es ab0ut Jesus be1ng d1v1ne.
Every sm1le felt l1ke m0ckery 0f Islam1c truth.
Every fr1endly greet1ng between c0nference attendees felt l1ke c0nsp1racy aga1nst my fa1th.
We began 0ur dem0nstrat10n w1th trad1t10nal pr0test chants, h0ld1ng s1gns that pr0cla1med Islam1c truths and exp0sed what we called Chr1st1an decept10ns.
The med1a crews arr1ved qu1ckly, drawn by 0ur v0cal 0pp0s1t10n t0 the c0nference.
L0cal news rep0rters appr0ached me f0r 1nterv1ews, g1v1ng me the platf0rm I had h0ped f0r t0 expla1n why we were there.
I sp0ke pass10nately ab0ut rel1g10us freed0m, ab0ut the r1ght 0f Musl1ms t0 pract1ce the1r fa1th w1th0ut 1nterference fr0m Chr1st1an m1ss10nar1es.
But I knew the real 1mpact w0uld c0me when we m0ved bey0nd w0rds t0 dramat1c act10n.
The f1rst Chr1st1ans wh0 appr0ached us surpr1sed me w1th the1r resp0nses.
I had expected anger, defens1veness, perhaps even h0st1l1ty that w0uld just1fy 0ur aggress1ve tact1cs.
Instead, an elderly man w1th wh1te ha1r and k1nd eyes walked sl0wly t0ward 0ur gr0up, h1s hands empty, h1s express10n f1lled w1th sadness rather than rage.
He st0pped d1rectly 1n fr0nt 0f me and sa1d qu1etly, “S0n, I’m pray1ng f0r y0ur heart.
” The s1mpl1c1ty 0f h1s w0rds caught me 0ff guard.
I had prepared f0r arguments ab0ut the0l0gy, f0r debates ab0ut scr1pture, but n0t f0r th1s gentle declarat10n 0f prayer.
I resp0nded w1th the harshness I had planned, tell1ng h1m t0 keep h1s prayers and f0cus 0n learn1ng the truth ab0ut Islam 1nstead.
But even as the w0rds left my m0uth, s0meth1ng ab0ut h1s demean0r unsettled me.
He d1dn’t argue back 0r defend h1s fa1th w1th the aggress10n I expected.
He s1mply n0dded, sa1d, “G0d bless y0u.
” and walked away.
I watched h1m enter the c0nference center, and f0r a m0ment I w0ndered what k1nd 0f decept10n c0uld make a pers0n s0 peacefully c0nf1dent 1n bel1efs I knew were false.
M0re Chr1st1ans began st0pp1ng t0 engage w1th us, but the1r appr0aches f0ll0wed the same unexpected pattern.
A y0ung w0man knelt 0n the s1dewalk nearby and began pray1ng s1lently, tears stream1ng d0wn her face as she watched 0ur pr0test.
A gr0up 0f teenagers started s1ng1ng hymns rather than sh0ut1ng c0unterpr0tests.
Fam1l1es walk1ng past w0uld pause t0 watch us, and I c0uld see parents wh1sper1ng t0 the1r ch1ldren, but the1r wh1spers seemed t0 be 1nstruct10ns ab0ut prayer rather than warn1ngs ab0ut danger0us Musl1ms.
The1r peaceful resp0nses were n0t what I had ant1c1pated, and they certa1nly were n0t what I had prepared f0r.
The t1me had c0me t0 escalate bey0nd w0rds and s1gns.
I reached 1nt0 my bag and pulled 0ut the f1rst B1ble, a red leatherb0und c0py I’d taken fr0m a h0tel l0bby.
I held 1t h1gh ab0ve my head s0 every0ne c0uld see 1t clearly.
My fell0w pr0testers, cheer1ng as they underst00d what was ab0ut t0 happen.
The med1a cameras f0cused 0n me as I pulled 0ut my l1ghter, and I felt the rush 0f p0wer that c0mes fr0m c0mmand1ng attent10n.
Th1s was the m0ment that w0uld def1ne 0ur pr0test, the symb0l1c act that w0uld dem0nstrate 0ur c0mplete reject10n 0f Chr1st1an cla1ms.
Uh, I l1t the l1ghter and t0uched the flame t0 the B1ble’s c0ver.
The leather caught f1re 1mmed1ately, and flames began c0nsum1ng the pages.
My supp0rters erupted 1n cheers and chants, the1r energy feed1ng my 0wn sense 0f tr1umph.
I felt l1ke I was str1k1ng a bl0w aga1nst centur1es 0f Chr1st1an decept10n, destr0y1ng the very f0undat10n 0f the1r false rel1g10n.
The B1ble burned c0mpletely 1n my hands bef0re I dr0pped the ashes t0 the gr0und, and I 1mmed1ately reached f0r the sec0nd 0ne.
Each success1ve B1ble burn1ng felt l1ke a v1ct0ry celebrat10n.
The th1rd B1ble was b0und 1n black leather and burned even m0re dramat1cally than the f1rst tw0.
The f0urth was a p0cket ed1t10n that d1sappeared 1n flames w1th1n m1nutes.
The med1a cameras captured every m0ment as my speeches grew m0re pass10nate, my c0ndemnat10ns 0f Chr1st1an1ty m0re f1erce.
I was perf0rm1ng f0r the cameras but als0 f0r Allah, dem0nstrat1ng my abs0lute l0yalty t0 Islam1c truth by destr0y1ng the b00k that led pe0ple away fr0m 1t.
But s0meth1ng was chang1ng 1n the cr0wd 0f Chr1st1ans watch1ng us.
Instead 0f the anger and 0utrage I had expected 0ur B1ble burn1ng t0 pr0v0ke, I saw m0re tears, m0re pe0ple kneel1ng 1n prayer, m0re qu1et c0nversat10ns between c0nference attendees.
A m1ddle-aged w0man appr0ached the edge 0f 0ur pr0test area and began s1ng1ng a hymn 1n a v01ce s0 beaut1ful and m0urnful that even s0me 0f my fell0w pr0testers st0pped chant1ng t0 l1sten.
Her s0ng wasn’t d1rected at us as an attack, but seemed t0 r1se t0ward heaven as s0me k1nd 0f plea.
By the t1me I reached f0r the s1xth B1ble, the cr0wd 0f Chr1st1ans gathered acr0ss the street had gr0wn substant1ally, but they weren’t resp0nd1ng w1th the h0st1l1ty that w0uld have just1f1ed 0ur aggress1ve tact1cs.
They were resp0nd1ng w1th gr1ef.
I c0uld see 1t 1n the1r faces, hear 1t 1n the1r prayers, feel 1t 1n the atm0sphere ar0und us.
They l00ked l1ke pe0ple watch1ng s0meth1ng prec10us be1ng destr0yed, l1ke fam1ly members at a funeral rather than enem1es at a battle.
The1r s0rr0w was s0 genu1ne, s0 deep that f0r the f1rst t1me that m0rn1ng, I felt a fl1cker 0f d0ubt ab0ut what we were d01ng.
That s1xth B1ble burned just l1ke the 0thers.
But as I watched the flames c0nsume 1ts pages, I f0und myself l00k1ng at the faces 0f the Chr1st1ans watch1ng us.
An elderly w0man was w1p1ng tears fr0m her eyes.
A y0ung father was h0ld1ng h1s daughter cl0se wh1le expla1n1ng s0meth1ng t0 her 1n wh1spers.
A past0r was stand1ng w1th h1s arms ra1sed 1n prayer, h1s l1ps m0v1ng s1lently as he watched the1r h0ly b00k turn t0 ashes 1n my hands.
The1r react10ns weren’t what I had expected fr0m pe0ple defend1ng l1es.
They l00ked l1ke pe0ple watch1ng truth 1tself be1ng attacked.
I reached 1nt0 my bag f0r the seventh and f1nal B1ble.
Th1s w0uld be the cl1mact1c m0ment, the f1nal symb0l1c v1ct0ry 0ver Chr1st1an decept10n.
I held 1t h1gh, prepar1ng t0 del1ver my m0st p0werful speech as the flames c0nsumed th1s last representat10n 0f the1r false rel1g10n.
The med1a cameras f0cused 0n me.
My fell0w pr0testers prepared t0 cheer, and I ra1sed my l1ghter t0ward the B1ble’s c0ver.
Th1s was supp0sed t0 be my m0ment 0f greatest tr1umph, the culm1nat10n 0f everyth1ng I bel1eved ab0ut Chr1st1an1ty’s threat t0 Islam1c truth.
I held that seventh B1ble ab0ve my head l1ke a tr0phy, feel1ng the we1ght 0f what I bel1eved w0uld be my f1nal v1ct0ry 0ver Chr1st1an decept10n.
The red leather b1nd1ng was w0rn and s0ft, suggest1ng th1s part1cular c0py had been read many t1mes by s0me0ne wh0 treasured 1t.
F0r a spl1t sec0nd, I w0ndered ab0ut the pers0n wh0 had 0nce 0wned th1s b00k.
But I qu1ckly pushed that th0ught away.
Th1s was enemy l1terature, n0th1ng m0re, and 1ts destruct10n w0uld c0mplete 0ur symb0l1c reject10n 0f everyth1ng Chr1st1an1ty represented.
The cr0wd had gr0wn larger 0n b0th s1des.
My fell0w pr0testers were chant1ng l0uder than they had all m0rn1ng, sens1ng that th1s cl1mact1c m0ment was appr0ach1ng.
The med1a cameras were all f0cused 0n me, wa1t1ng t0 capture the f1nal B1ble burn1ng that w0uld cap 0ff the new st0ry.
Acr0ss the street, the Chr1st1ans had als0 gr0wn 1n number, many 0f them n0w kneel1ng 0n the s1dewalk 1n prayer.
The c0ntrast was str1k1ng and unsettl1ng.
We l00ked l1ke warr10rs prepar1ng f0r battle wh1le they l00ked l1ke m0urners at a funeral.
I fl1cked the l1ghter w1th the same c0nf1dence I had sh0wn f0r the prev10us s1x B1bles.
The flame appeared f0r just a m0ment, but then s0meth1ng happened that I st1ll cann0t fully expla1n w1th natural reas0n1ng.
A w1nd came fr0m n0where, str0ng en0ugh t0 ext1ngu1sh my l1ghter, but unl1ke any n0rmal breeze I had ever exper1enced.
The a1r ar0und me felt th1ck, alm0st al1ve, as 1f s0me 1nv1s1ble presence had suddenly f1lled the space where I was stand1ng.
The w1nd d1dn’t seem t0 affect any0ne else, just me.
and the small area 1mmed1ately ar0und where I st00d.
But 1t wasn’t just w1nd.
Have y0u ever been 1n a r00m and suddenly felt l1ke s0me0ne was watch1ng y0u? Even when y0u th0ught y0u were al0ne, that feel1ng 0f presence was 0verwhelm1ng me, but magn1f1ed bey0nd anyth1ng I had ever exper1enced.
It felt l1ke the m0st p0werful be1ng 1n the un1verse had suddenly f0cused h1s c0mplete attent10n 0n me, see1ng n0t just my act10ns, but every th0ught and 1ntent10n 1n my heart.
The sensat10n was s0 1ntense that my hands began shak1ng unc0ntr0llably, th0ugh n0t fr0m c0ld 0r fear 1n any n0rmal sense.
I tr1ed t0 rel1ght the l1ghter, but my hands were trembl1ng s0 v10lently that I c0uldn’t steady the flame l0ng en0ugh t0 t0uch 1t t0 the B1ble.
Each attempt t0 create f1re fa1led, n0t because 0f w1nd th1s t1me, but because my ent1re b0dy seemed t0 be rebell1ng aga1nst what I was try1ng t0 d0.
The B1ble felt 1mp0ss1bly heavy 1n my gr1p, as 1f 1t had suddenly bec0me made 0f lead 1nstead 0f paper and leather.
My arms began t0 ache fr0m h0ld1ng 1t up, th0ugh 1t had felt l1ght just m0ments bef0re.
The presence I sensed ar0und me was n0t neutral 0r 1mpers0nal.
It felt d1st1nctly l1ke s0me0ne, l1ke a pers0n wh0se attent10n was c0mpletely f0cused 0n me, w1th an 1ntens1ty that was b0th terr1fy1ng and strangely c0mf0rt1ng.
In that m0ment, th0ugh I w0uld n0t have adm1tted 1t t0 any0ne, I knew w1th abs0lute certa1nty that Jesus Chr1st was stand1ng r1ght there w1th me.
N0t Jesus, the pr0phet that Islam taught ab0ut, but Jesus, the d1v1ne s0n 0f G0d, that Chr1st1ans pr0cla1med.
The kn0wledge h1t me l1ke l1ghtn1ng.
unden1able and 0verwhelm1ng.
Every hateful w0rd I had ever sp0ken ab0ut Jesus began ech01ng 1n my m1nd as 1f s0me0ne was play1ng back a rec0rd1ng 0f my ent1re l1fe.
I heard myself call1ng h1m a false g0d, deny1ng h1s d1v1n1ty, m0ck1ng h1s f0ll0wers, 0rgan1z1ng pr0tests aga1nst h1s church.
But al0ng w1th th0se mem0r1es came s0meth1ng else, s0meth1ng I hadn’t expected.
I felt h1s resp0nse t0 each 0f th0se attacks.
And 1t wasn’t anger 0r c0ndemnat10n.
It was gr1ef.
The k1nd 0f deep s0rr0w that c0mes fr0m watch1ng s0me0ne y0u l0ve destr0y1ng themselves.
The B1ble fell fr0m my hands t0 the c0ncrete s1dewalk w1th a s0und that seemed unnaturally l0ud.
I stared d0wn at 1t, ly1ng there, 0pen t0 a page I c0uldn’t read fr0m my stand1ng p0s1t10n, but s0meh0w I knew 1t c0nta1ned w0rds ab0ut Jesus’s l0ve f0r h1s enem1es.
I bent d0wn t0 p1ck 1t up, but when I reached f0r 1t, my hands passed r1ght thr0ugh 1t, as 1f 1t had bec0me unt0uchable.
Three t1mes I tr1ed t0 grasp 1t.
Three t1mes my hands seemed t0 enc0unter s0me 1nv1s1ble barr1er that prevented me fr0m l1ft1ng 1t fr0m the gr0und.
My legs began t0 feel weak beneath me.
n0t fr0m any phys1cal exhaust10n, but fr0m the 0verwhelm1ng sp1r1tual we1ght 0f what was happen1ng.
The presence that I n0w knew was Jesus felt cl0ser than my 0wn heartbeat, m0re real than the c0ncrete beneath my feet, 0r the a1r 1n my lungs.
I c0uld sense h1s l0ve f0r me even as I st00d there as h1s enemy, even as I held the l1ghter I had been us1ng t0 destr0y h1s w0rd.
That l0ve was s0 pure and p0werful that 1t made every 0ther l0ve I had ever exper1enced feel l1ke a pale shad0w 1n c0mpar1s0n.
The pr0testers ar0und me were st1ll chant1ng, but the1r v01ces seemed t0 be c0m1ng fr0m very far away, as 1f I was hear1ng them thr0ugh water 0r th1ck glass.
The med1a cameras were st1ll r0ll1ng, but I had c0mpletely f0rg0tten ab0ut 0ur aud1ence, ab0ut 0ur m1ss10n, ab0ut everyth1ng except the real1ty that Jesus Chr1st was r1ght there w1th me.
I c0uld feel h1s heartbreak 0ver my hatred, but als0 h1s determ1nat10n t0 reach me desp1te my res1stance.
It was l1ke be1ng held by s0me0ne wh0 refused t0 let g0, n0 matter h0w hard I f0ught aga1nst them.
I stumbled backwards several steps, leav1ng the fallen B1ble 0n the gr0und where 1t had dr0pped.
My fell0w act1v1sts were ask1ng what was wr0ng, why I had st0pped, what was happen1ng t0 me, but I c0uldn’t f0rm w0rds t0 answer them.
H0w c0uld I expla1n that everyth1ng I had bel1eved ab0ut Jesus was c0llaps1ng 1n real t1me? H0w c0uld I tell them that the pers0n we had been f1ght1ng aga1nst was stand1ng r1ght there, l0v1ng us, even as we attacked h1m? The dem0nstrat10n c0nt1nued ar0und me, but I was n0 l0nger part 0f 1t.
I had entered 1nt0 s0meth1ng that felt l1ke a c0nversat10n w1th0ut w0rds.
An enc0unter w1th d1v1ne l0ve that was rewr1t1ng everyth1ng I th0ught I knew ab0ut G0d, ab0ut truth, ab0ut myself.
The Jesus I had den1ed and m0cked f0r years was reveal1ng h1mself t0 me, n0t as an enemy t0 be defeated, but as a sav10r wh0 had been pursu1ng me w1th relentless l0ve.
Stand1ng there 0n that Manhattan s1dewalk, surr0unded by the cha0s 0f 0ur pr0test, I met the l1v1ng Chr1st, and n0th1ng w0uld ever be the same.
I walked away fr0m that pr0test 1n a state 0f c0mplete mental c0nfus10n, leav1ng my fell0w act1v1sts w1th0ut explanat10n 0r leadersh1p.
They called after me, demand1ng t0 kn0w where I was g01ng, why I was aband0n1ng 0ur m1ss10n at 1ts m0st cruc1al m0ment.
I c0uldn’t answer them because I d1dn’t understand what had happened t0 me.
All I knew was that I needed t0 get away fr0m that place, away fr0m the cameras and the chant1ng and the fallen B1ble that I s0meh0w c0uldn’t p1ck up fr0m the s1dewalk.
The subway r1de back t0 Br00klyn felt l1ke travel1ng thr0ugh a dream.
I sat 1n the c0rner 0f the tra1n car, star1ng at my hands that had been shak1ng s0 v10lently just an h0ur bef0re.
They were steady n0w, but I c0uld st1ll feel the phant0m we1ght 0f that seventh B1ble.
st1ll sense the presence that had 0verwhelmed me 0uts1de the c0nference center.
Every few m1nutes I w0uld tell myself that 1t had been stress, adrenal1ne fr0m the pr0test, perhaps s0me k1nd 0f pan1c attack br0ught 0n by the 1ntens1ty 0f the dem0nstrat10n.
But even as I f0rmed these rat10nal explanat10ns, I knew they were l1es I was tell1ng myself.
F0r the next 3 days, I barely left my apartment.
I t0ld my fam1ly and fell0w act1v1sts that I was s1ck, wh1ch wasn’t ent1rely untrue.
S0meth1ng fundamental 1ns1de me felt br0ken, l1ke a b0ne that had been snapped and was try1ng t0 heal 1n the wr0ng p0s1t10n.
I c0uldn’t eat w1th0ut feel1ng nause0us.
Sleep br0ught dreams that felt m0re real than my wak1ng h0urs.
Dreams where Jesus sp0ke t0 me w1th the same v01ce I had sensed dur1ng the pr0test.
In these dreams, he never c0ndemned me f0r the B1ble burn1ng 0r the years 0f 0pp0s1t10n t0 Chr1st1an1ty.
Instead, he kept sh0w1ng me the faces 0f the Chr1st1ans I had hurt, ask1ng me 1f I underst00d the1r pa1n.
I tr1ed desperately t0 return t0 my n0rmal Islam1c pract1ces, h0p1ng that 1ncreased dev0t10n w0uld clear my m1nd 0f whatever c0nfus10n had 0verwhelmed me.
I perf0rmed extra prayers, read add1t10nal p0rt10ns 0f the Quran, and even c0ntacted my father t0 ask f0r sp1r1tual gu1dance ab0ut deal1ng w1th d0ubts.
But every t1me I pr0strated 1n prayer t0ward Mecca, I felt l1ke I was pray1ng t0 s0me0ne wh0 wasn’t there.
Wh1le the presence I had enc0untered at the pr0test felt m0re real than the a1r I was breath1ng, the quest10n started small, but grew m0re 1ns1stent each day.
Why had the Chr1st1ans at the pr0test resp0nded w1th tears 1nstead 0f anger? Why d1d they l00k heartbr0ken rather than h0st1le when I burned the1r h0ly b00k? I had expected them t0 react l1ke I w0uld have reacted 1f s0me0ne had burned the Quran.
I w0uld have been fur10us, ready t0 f1ght, determ1ned t0 defend the h0n0r 0f my sacred text.
But the1r gr1ef suggested s0meth1ng d1fferent, s0meth1ng I c0uldn’t understand fr0m w1th1n my Islam1c w0rldv1ew.
Three weeks after the pr0test, I f0und myself stand1ng 0uts1de a b00kst0re 1n d0wnt0wn Br00klyn, star1ng at a d1splay 0f B1bles 1n the w1nd0w.
The s1ght 0f them n0 l0nger f1lled me w1th the r1ghte0us anger I had felt f0r years.
Instead, I felt cur10us 1n a way that terr1f1ed me.
What was actually wr1tten 1n th0se pages that c0uld 1nsp1re such dev0t10n fr0m the Chr1st1ans I had met? What c0uld p0ss1bly be s0 prec10us t0 them that watch1ng 1t burn w0uld br1ng them t0 tears rather than rage? I entered the b00kst0re w1th my heart p0und1ng l1ke I was c0mm1tt1ng a cr1me.
The sales cler barely l00ked up as I made my way t0 the rel1g10us sect10n, but I felt l1ke every0ne 1n the st0re c0uld see what I was plann1ng t0 d0.
I f0und a s1mple black B1ble, a New Internat10nal Vers10n that l00ked appr0achable and easy t0 read.
As I carr1ed 1t t0 the check0ut c0unter, I felt l1ke I was h0ld1ng dynam1te, s0meth1ng that c0uld expl0de my ent1re l1fe 1f I wasn’t careful.
That f1rst n1ght read1ng the B1ble was unl1ke anyth1ng I had ever exper1enced.
I started w1th the G0spel 0f Matthew, expect1ng t0 f1nd the c0rrupt10ns and c0ntrad1ct10ns my Islam1c teachers had t0ld me ab0ut.
Instead, I f0und st0r1es ab0ut a Jesus wh0 l0ved h1s enem1es, wh0 f0rgave th0se wh0 attacked h1m, wh0 wept 0ver c1t1es that rejected h1m.
Th1s wasn’t the d1stant, purely human pr0phet Islam had taught me ab0ut.
Th1s was s0me0ne wh0 cla1med t0 be G0d h1mself, but a G0d wh0se pr1mary character1st1cs seemed t0 be l0ve rather than judgment.
The serm0n 0n the m0unt destr0yed every assumpt10n I had made ab0ut Chr1st1an1ty.
Blessed are th0se wh0 are persecuted f0r r1ghte0usness’s sake.
Jesus sa1d, “And I 1mmed1ately th0ught 0f the Chr1st1ans I had persecuted f0r years.
L0ve y0ur enem1es and pray f0r th0se wh0 persecute y0u,” he c0mmanded.
And I real1zed th1s expla1ned the1r gentle resp0nses t0 0ur pr0tests.
They hadn’t been weak 0r defeated when they resp0nded t0 0ur attacks w1th prayer.
They had been f0ll0w1ng the d1rect teach1ngs 0f the1r L0rd.
As days turned 1nt0 weeks 0f secret B1ble read1ng, I began t0 understand why th0se Chr1st1ans had wept when I burned the1r h0ly b00k.
They weren’t just watch1ng paper and 1nk be1ng destr0yed.
They were watch1ng s0me0ne reject the l0ve 0f G0d made man1fest 1n Jesus Chr1st.
Every page I read seemed t0 speak d1rectly t0 my heart, answer1ng quest10ns I d1dn’t kn0w I had, heal1ng w0unds I d1dn’t kn0w ex1sted.
But w1th that heal1ng came terr0r because I underst00d that bel1ev1ng 1n th1s Jesus w0uld c0st me everyth1ng I had ever kn0wn.
The cr1s1s reached 1ts peak when my m0ther d1sc0vered the B1ble h1dden under my mattress.
I came h0me fr0m a walk t0 f1nd her s1tt1ng 0n my bed h0ld1ng the b00k l1ke 1t was ev1dence 0f my betrayal, tears stream1ng d0wn her face.
She asked me h0w I c0uld d0 th1s t0 0ur fam1ly, h0w I c0uld reject everyth1ng they had taught me, h0w I c0uld ch00se hell 0ver parad1se.
Her pa1n was s0 real and deep that I wanted t0 take the B1ble fr0m her hands and thr0w 1t away t0 pr0m1se her that I was st1ll her fa1thful Musl1m s0n.
But I c0uldn’t make that pr0m1se anym0re.
Every w0rd Jesus sp0ke 1n th0se pages had carved 1tself 1nt0 my heart.
When he sa1d, “C0me t0 me all y0u wh0 are weary and burdened, and I w1ll g1ve y0u rest,” I felt l1ke he was speak1ng d1rectly t0 the exhaust10n 1n my s0ul.
When he declared, “I am the way and the truth and the l1fe,” I knew w1th gr0w1ng certa1nty that he wasn’t just a pr0phet p01nt1ng t0ward G0d, but G0d h1mself reach1ng t0ward human1ty.
The fam1ly meet1ng that f0ll0wed was the m0st pa1nful exper1ence 0f my adult l1fe.
My father, my m0ther, my tw0 s1sters, and my y0unger br0ther sat 1n 0ur l1v1ng r00m wh1le I tr1ed t0 expla1n what was happen1ng t0 me.
I t0ld them ab0ut the pr0test, ab0ut the supernatural exper1ence I had enc0untered, ab0ut the quest10ns that read1ng the B1ble was ra1s1ng 1n my m1nd.
My father’s resp0nse was sw1ft and f1nal.
aband0n th1s Chr1st1an n0nsense 0r leave 0ur fam1ly f0rever.
Th1nk ab0ut the m0st d1ff1cult ch01ce y0u have ever faced.
Then mult1ply that d1ff1culty by everyth1ng y0u l0ve m0st 1n the w0rld.
That’s what I was c0nfr0nt1ng as I l00ked at my fam1ly’s faces, see1ng the1r l0ve m1xed w1th d1sapp01ntment, the1r h0pe m1xed w1th ult1matum.
I m0ved 0ut tw0 days later, carry1ng 0nly my cl0thes and the B1ble that had started th1s wh0le cr1s1s.
I rented a t1ny stud10 apartment w1th m0ney I had saved.
And f0r the f1rst t1me 1n my l1fe, I was c0mpletely al0ne w1th my quest10ns ab0ut Jesus Chr1st.
Th0se tw0 m0nths 0f 1s0lat10n were the l0ngest 0f my l1fe.
I l0st my j0b at the Islam1c C0mmun1ty Center when w0rd spread ab0ut my 1nterest 1n Chr1st1an1ty.
F0rmer fr1ends cr0ssed the street t0 av01d me.
The rad1cal act1v1sts I had 0rgan1zed w1th f0r years sent me messages call1ng me a tra1t0r t0 Islam and t0 0ur c0mmun1ty.
I spent ent1re days read1ng the B1ble and pray1ng n0t the r1tual prayers 0f Islam anym0re, but desperate c0nversat10ns w1th the Jesus I was beg1nn1ng t0 bel1eve had been pursu1ng me f0r years.
On December 15th, 2018, I reached the end 0f my 0wn strength.
I g0t 0n my knees 1n that small apartment and sp0ke w0rds I never th0ught I w0uld say.
Jesus, 1f y0u are really the s0n 0f G0d, 1f y0u really d1ed f0r my s1ns, then I surrender my l1fe t0 y0u.
I d0n’t understand everyth1ng, but I bel1eve y0u are the truth I have been search1ng f0r.
The m0ment th0se w0rds left my m0uth, I felt a peace s0 pr0f0und 1t seemed t0 f1ll every c0rner 0f my be1ng.
It was l1ke c0m1ng h0me t0 a place I had never been but had been l00k1ng f0r my ent1re l1fe.
That n1ght 0f December 15th, 2018, everyth1ng changed 1n ways I c0uld never have 1mag1ned.
After I sp0ke th0se w0rds 0f surrender t0 Jesus, I exper1enced a peace that seemed t0 reach 1nt0 the deepest parts 0f my s0ul, places where anger and hatred had l1ved f0r s0 many years.
F0r the f1rst t1me 1n m0nths, I slept thr0ugh the ent1re n1ght w1th0ut dreams 0f c0nfl1ct 0r c0nfus10n.
I w0ke up the next m0rn1ng feel1ng l1ke I was see1ng the w0rld thr0ugh c0mpletely new eyes, as 1f s0me0ne had rem0ved a dark f1lter I hadn’t real1zed was there.
My f1rst Chr1st1an prayer felt n0th1ng l1ke the r1tual prayers I had perf0rmed f1ve t1mes a day f0r m0st 0f my l1fe.
Instead 0f rec1t1ng mem0r1zed w0rds 1n Arab1c, I f0und myself talk1ng t0 Jesus l1ke he was s1tt1ng r1ght there 1n my apartment w1th me.
I t0ld h1m ab0ut my fears, my c0nfus10n ab0ut what th1s dec1s10n w0uld mean f0r my future, my gr1ef 0ver l0s1ng my fam1ly.
M0st surpr1s1ng 0f all, I thanked h1m f0r pursu1ng me even when I was h1s enemy, f0r l0v1ng me en0ugh t0 1nterrupt my l1fe w1th h1s truth.
Prayer became a c0nversat10n rather than a perf0rmance.
The next m0rn1ng, I gathered all my Islam1c rel1g10us 1tems and placed them 1n a b0x.
My prayer rug, the 0ne my grandm0ther had g1ven me when I turned 13.
My prayer beads w0rn sm00th fr0m years 0f use dur1ng my da1ly dev0t10ns.
The c0llect10n 0f Islam1c b00ks I had accumulated 0ver years 0f study and act1v1sm.
L00k1ng at these 0bjects that had 0nce def1ned my sp1r1tual l1fe, I felt sadness but n0t regret.
They represented a s1ncere search f0r G0d that had ult1mately led me t0 Jesus.
And f0r that, I was grateful.
I called Grace C0mmun1ty Church, the church where the c0nference had been held 2 m0nths earl1er.
When the recept10n1st answered, I nerv0usly expla1ned that I was the Musl1m act1v1st wh0 had burned B1bles 0uts1de the1r bu1ld1ng and that I wanted t0 speak w1th s0me0ne ab0ut bec0m1ng a Chr1st1an.
She 1mmed1ately transferred me t0 Past0r W1ll1ams, the sen10r past0r, wh0 sa1d s0meth1ng that br0ught tears t0 my eyes.
Annas, we have been pray1ng f0r y0u spec1f1cally every s1ngle day s1nce Oct0ber 8th.
We never st0pped bel1ev1ng that G0d w0uld reach y0ur heart.
My f1rst Sunday at Grace C0mmun1ty Church was 0verwhelm1ng 1n the m0st beaut1ful way.
I sat 1n the back r0w, st1ll nerv0us ab0ut h0w 0ther Chr1st1ans m1ght react t0 my presence.
But when Past0r W1ll1ams 1ntr0duced me dur1ng the serv1ce, as s0me0ne wh0 had recently g1ven h1s l1fe t0 Chr1st, the ent1re c0ngregat10n erupted 1n applause and pra1se.
After the serv1ce, d0zens 0f pe0ple appr0ached me w1th hugs and w0rds 0f welc0me.
They d1dn’t see me as the f0rmer enemy wh0 had 0nce attacked the1r fa1th.
They saw me as the1r new br0ther 1n Chr1st.
Learn1ng t0 l1ve as a Chr1st1an felt l1ke learn1ng a c0mpletely new language.
Everyth1ng was d1fferent fr0m my Islam1c backgr0und.
Instead 0f fac1ng Mecca f1ve t1mes a day, I f0und myself 1n c0nstant c0nversat10n w1th Jesus thr0ugh0ut each day.
Instead 0f try1ng t0 earn G0d’s fav0r thr0ugh g00d w0rks and rel1g10us 0bservance, I d1sc0vered that Jesus had already secured G0d’s l0ve f0r me thr0ugh h1s sacr1f1ce 0n the cr0ss.
The c0ncept 0f grace, 0f undeserved l0ve and f0rg1veness, was s0 f0re1gn t0 my Islam1c m1ndset that 1t t00k m0nths f0r me t0 fully grasp 1t.
The pract1cal c0nsequences 0f my c0nvers10n were 1mmed1ate and severe.
W1th1n a week 0f my dec1s10n, I l0st my j0b at the Islam1c C0mmun1ty Center.
The d1rect0r called me pers0nally t0 expla1n that my presence w0uld be t00 d1srupt1ve f0r the1r c0mmun1ty, g1ven what he called my ap0stasy fr0m Islam.
F0rmer fr1ends and fell0w act1v1sts began treat1ng me l1ke I had d1ed.
S0me sent me messages call1ng me a tra1t0r, warn1ng me that I had ch0sen hell 0ver parad1se.
The 1s0lat10n was pa1nful, but 1t was als0 clar1fy1ng.
I real1zed h0w much 0f my prev10us l1fe had been bu1lt 0n hatred and 0pp0s1t10n rather than l0ve and truth.
But G0d pr0v1ded a new fam1ly t0 replace what I had l0st.
The c0ngregat10n at Grace C0mmun1ty Church embraced me w1th a l0ve I had never exper1enced.
When they learned I had l0st my j0b, several members helped me f1nd w0rk at a Chr1st1an b00kst0re.
When my lease exp1red and I c0uldn’t aff0rd rent, a fam1ly 1n the church 0ffered me the1r guest r00m unt1l I c0uld get back 0n my feet.
They d1dn’t help me because I deserved 1t 0r because I c0uld repay them.
They helped me because Jesus had c0mmanded them t0 l0ve the1r ne1ghb0rs and I was n0w the1r br0ther.
6 m0nths after my c0nvers10n, Past0r W1ll1ams asked me 1f I w0uld c0ns1der shar1ng my test1m0ny w1th the c0ngregat10n.
The th0ught terr1f1ed me because 1t meant publ1cly ackn0wledg1ng everyth1ng I had d0ne as an enemy 0f Chr1st1an1ty.
But as I prepared my st0ry, I real1zed that my past wasn’t s0meth1ng t0 be ashamed 0f, but s0meth1ng G0d c0uld use t0 dem0nstrate h1s p0wer t0 transf0rm even the hardest heart.
That f1rst test1m0ny felt l1ke a f0rm 0f c0nfess10n and heal1ng, speak1ng al0ud the j0urney fr0m hatred t0 l0ve that Jesus had taken me 0n.
The resp0nse t0 my st0ry led t0 1nv1tat10ns t0 speak at 0ther churches, then at Chr1st1an c0nferences and events acr0ss the c0untry.
Each t1me I shared h0w Jesus had reached 1nt0 my l1fe 0f rad1cal 0pp0s1t10n and transf0rmed me 1nt0 h1s f0ll0wer, I saw the same amazement 1n pe0ple’s faces.
N0t amazement at me, but amazement at the p0wer 0f G0d t0 change any0ne, n0 matter h0w l0st they m1ght seem.
My test1m0ny became a l1v1ng dem0nstrat10n that n0 0ne 1s bey0nd the reach 0f Chr1st’s l0ve.
After 2 years 0f gr0w1ng 1n my fa1th, I felt G0d call1ng me t0 f0rmal m1n1stry tra1n1ng.
I enr0lled 1n sem1nary, study1ng the same B1ble I had 0nce tr1ed t0 destr0y, learn1ng t0 read 1t 1n the 0r1g1nal languages, d1v1ng deep 1nt0 the the0l0gy I had 0nce 0pp0sed.
The 1r0ny wasn’t l0st 0n me that the hands wh1ch had 0nce burned B1bles were n0w turn1ng the1r pages 1n reverent study.
Every class, every paper, every exam felt l1ke rece1v1ng g1fts I d1dn’t deserve but treasured bey0nd measure.
My relat10nsh1p w1th my b10l0g1cal fam1ly rema1ns c0mpl1cated and pa1nful.
My parents st1ll refuse t0 speak w1th me, v1ew1ng my c0nvers10n as the ult1mate betrayal 0f everyth1ng they taught me.
My y0unger s1ster 0ccas10nally sends me messages, usually ar0und Islam1c h0l1days, ask1ng 1f I have c0me t0 my senses yet.
These rem1nders 0f what my dec1s10n c0st me st1ll br1ng tears.
But they als0 rem1nd me 0f the pr1ce Jesus pa1d t0 redeem me.
If he was w1ll1ng t0 be rejected by h1s 0wn pe0ple f0r my sake, I can bear be1ng rejected by m1ne f0r h1s sake.
T0day, I serve as an ass0c1ate past0r at Grace C0mmun1ty Church, spec1al1z1ng 1n 0utreach t0 Musl1m c0mmun1t1es.
The m1n1stry that 0nce felt l1ke my call1ng 1n 0pp0s1t10n t0 Chr1st1an1ty has bec0me my call1ng 1n serv1ce t0 Chr1st.
I w0rk w1th teams 0f Chr1st1ans wh0 want t0 share the l0ve 0f Jesus w1th Musl1ms, teach1ng them t0 appr0ach my f0rmer c0mmun1ty n0t w1th arguments and c0nfr0ntat10n, but w1th genu1ne l0ve and respect.
Every c0nvert I see c0me t0 fa1th rem1nds me that G0d 1s st1ll 1n the bus1ness 0f reach1ng the unreachable.
When I v1s1t m0sques n0w, 1t’s n0t t0 pr0test 0r 0pp0se, but t0 bu1ld relat10nsh1ps and share the l0ve 0f Chr1st thr0ugh my act10ns and w0rds.
S0me 0f my f0rmer act1v1st fr1ends st1ll see me as a tra1t0r, but 0thers have begun ask1ng quest10ns ab0ut my transf0rmat10n.
They want t0 kn0w h0w s0me0ne c0uld change s0 rad1cally.
H0w the anger and hatred they remember c0uld be replaced w1th peace and j0y.
These c0nversat10ns g1ve me 0pp0rtun1t1es t0 share n0t my arguments aga1nst Islam, but my test1m0ny ab0ut Jesus.
The same hands that 0nce destr0yed B1bles n0w help d1str1bute them t0 Musl1m fam1l1es wh0 are cur10us ab0ut Chr1st1an1ty.
The v01ce that 0nce sp0ke aga1nst Jesus n0w pr0cla1ms h1s l0ve fr0m pulp1ts acr0ss the c0untry.
The heart that 0nce burned w1th hatred f0r Chr1st1ans n0w burns w1th l0ve f0r the Jesus they w0rsh1p.
Th1s transf0rmat10n d1dn’t happen because I was c0nv1nced by better arguments 0r m0re persuas1ve ap0l0get1cs.
It happened because Jesus h1mself 1nterrupted my l1fe w1th h1s presence and refused t0 let me g0.
Ask y0urself th1s quest10n.
What w0uld 1t l00k l1ke f0r y0u t0 surrender everyth1ng t0 f0ll0w Jesus? F0r me, 1t meant l0s1ng my fam1ly, my career, my c0mmun1ty, and my 1dent1ty as I had kn0wn 1t.
But what I ga1ned was 1nf1n1tely greater than what I l0st.
I ga1ned a sav10r wh0 l0ves me unc0nd1t10nally, a fam1ly b0und by s0meth1ng str0nger than bl00d, and a purp0se that w1ll last f0r etern1ty.
I ga1ned peace w1th G0d and peace 1n my heart.
I began th1s st0ry by tell1ng y0u that I was 0nce the Chr1st1an’s greatest enemy, burn1ng the1r h0ly b00k 1n the streets 0f Manhattan.
I end 1t by tell1ng y0u that Jesus t00k that enemy and made h1m a s0n.
The B1bles I destr0yed 1n hatred led t0 my heart be1ng transf0rmed by l0ve.
If Jesus can reach s0me0ne l1ke me, s0me0ne wh0 spent years f1ght1ng aga1nst h1m, then he can reach any0ne.
N0 0ne 1s t00 l0st, t00 angry, t00 0pp0sed, 0r t00 far g0ne f0r the l0ve 0f Chr1st.
My name 1s Annus, and Jesus changed abs0lutely everyth1ng f0r me.
He t00k my l1fe 0f hatred and gave me a l1fe 0f l0ve.
He t00k my m1n1stry 0f destruct10n and gave me a m1n1stry 0f heal1ng.
He t00k my heart 0f st0ne and gave me a heart 0f flesh.
Th1s same Jesus stands ready t0 transf0rm y0ur l1fe t00 1f y0u w1ll let h1m.
The quest10n 1s n0t whether he can change y0u, but whether y0u w1ll surrender t0 h1s
