It is the most profound things that take place on the Race that are the hardest for me to write about… It is often that I find myself captivated by a moment, engulfed in the experience and feeling a sort of desperation to document it, photograph it or get a video. I’ve realized, however, that as much as I would like to share these experiences and this journey with all of my followers, supporters and loved ones the truth is, I can’t. I do my best to describe and express the wonder, joy and gift I am experiencing around the world, but in the end, those precious moments are mine alone to experience.
It is hard to put the Lord’s Faithfulness into words and I often feel my writings will not do the truth justice. But I know that it is important testimonies like these that are the most important to share and write about. Let me begin…
While in Mozambique, spending my days walking the streets of Chimoio, I felt an inclination given to me from the Lord… Go to the Mosque.
There are many people of the Muslim faith in the city of Chimoio. I notice as we walk the streets of the city.. The men and women wear coverings on their heads, some dress in full Islamic attire. The Mosque sits in the center of the city where we stayed last month. The Muslim Call to Prayer echoes through the city several times a day, reminding not only theMuslims, but also myself to live a life of Prayer before God.
When I first felt this leading from God I felt excited and confident that this was what I must do. I shared it with two of my teammates, inviting them to come along with me. They were not as confident and supportive of the idea as I had hoped..but that didn’t discourage me! I knew that this was what God wanted.
During the month my Team spent a lot of time evangelizing in the streets of the city. We would often stop into a local cafe creatively named “Cafe Chimoio”. We began getting to know Yaslim, the owner of the cafe, and established a good relationship with him. One day when we stopped in for coffee I approached him at the counter, knowing that he was of the Muslim faith, and inquired about the Mosque.
“If I wanted to come and visit the Mosque what day would be the best one to come? Are there certain times that are better than others?”
He explained to me that he had only lived in the area for a few months and that his involvement at the Mosque was just going to pray and returning to his work. He didn’t have any answer for me.
“Ok,” I said simply. “Well, if you happen to ask next time you attend please let me know.”
The very next day I was back in Cafe Chimoio, sitting at a table with three other teammates. Yaslim called me up to the counter and told me, with a big smile on his face, that he had spoken with his Imam and that I was welcome to come and visit any day at 2pm. “Thank you!” I said excitedly.When I returned to the table with my news two of the girls sitting with me were very interested and excited to join me on this visit as well. We planned our visit for two days later.
The day came. I gathered the small group of us in the morning before we headed out to pray and to clarify our purpose and motivation in going… Love. That’s it. Nothing ulterior. In our world today the news is filled with conflict, violence, hate and evil. A lot of this strife stems from religious differences and disagreements, often between Muslims and Christians. We were going in that Mosque taking a small, but significant, step towards peace. We went with respect, sincerity, peace and above all love. This is the message of Jesus.
After our morning walking the streets, meeting the locals, discussing God, His truth and His love, we headed to Cafe Chimoio. Yaslim was excited to see how different we looked with our heads covered! “Much more beautiful!” he said. We began our walk through the city to the Mosque. I walked in the front of the group next to Yaslim. We talked about our differences, but mostly the things that we were united in. He spoke to me about the Muslims who attacked America in an act of terror on 9/11… “I will never say they were Muslims,” he said. “What they did was not of God.” He explained that growing up in Syria he lived amongst Christians with great peace and respect. As we neared our destination he also shared his respect for Jesus, believing Him to be a good Prophet.
When we arrived he called for the Imam who would come to lead us through on a tour of their Mosque. The Imam came with a translator and we all began walking through their building. They showed us the different rooms where the girls and boys study Arabic and Qur’an. I walked closely with the Imam and Yaslim toward the front as the rest of our group took it all in. After walking through the students’ section the Imam stopped and looked at me in my eyes… “I’ve seen you before,” he said. “No I don’t think so,” I replied. “This is my first time in Chimoio and my first time in this Mosque.” “You’ve come here before though?” he half asked half stated, convinced that we had met each other before. “No, no I haven’t been here before.” With that he stopped asking questions and continued on with out tour. I’m not sure what the Imam recognized in me, but I do believe he saw the goodness of God that perhaps was familiar to him.. Mistaking that for recognizing me.
We removed our shoes and saw the area where only the men go to pray. At the conclusion of the tour we stopped and talked for a bit, the Imam speaking through the translator. He shared that Muslims force no one to convert, but rather wait for individuals to be ready to uphold the commandments perfectly, then they can become a Muslim. He also shared their belief in Jesus… “Muhammad has died and is no longer here. Jesus is alive. When He returns He will also lead the Muslims.” We found joy and peace in this similar belief. They knew that we were Christians and I had the opportunity to explain to them why we were there.. “We know that God is love, and we have come to express love, peace and respect to you… American to Mozambican; Christian to Muslim.” The Imam then looked to me and said, “You seem to know much about Islam, have you studied?” I shared with him that my brother had converted to Islam several years ago, so I know what I know because of him. The translator got excited at this and said, “Your brother has converted! Now what are you waiting for! You convert as well!” At this the Imam put up his hand, rebuking the translator and corrected him, saying, “No. We do not force Islam on anyone.” For him to show me this respect, me, a white, American Christian woman was kind and touched me deeply.
In parting I told him that it was a great blessing to be with them that day. He shared that he was also exceedingly blessed… “You must come back again if ever you’re in Chimoio.” I promised I would. We parted as brother and sister, with differences, but unified under the same One, True God.
I share this simple story because it has profound significance to me. The joy that was shared between all that gathered that day was tangible. It is hard to put the whole exchange into words, but, Readers, I hope this inspires you to be that same expression of peace and love to all those you encounter in your day-to-day life..
Especially those who seem to be most different from you. This pleases God and brings Him glory.
