I have been honored to sit and listen to several stories throughout this month, all of them have brought me to tears and stunned silence and thankful for my brothers and sisters bravery.

Here is a story that a young man gave me permission to share of the realities of what it means to be a Christian and to be persecuted for his faith and yet the beauty of hope. Below you will find his story and some words of hope afterwords. 

It was dark, and I couldn’t see anything, all I heard was screaming.

I stumbled around the room to try and find the light but it wouldn’t work. All of a sudden the door opened a hand grabbed me and started dragging me down the hallway and the stairs.

I started yelling “Mom! Mom! Where are you!?” the hand on my shoulder only gripped me harder, grabbing a hold of my shirt.

I could tell that it was a man, by the heavy breathing, the rough hands, the heavy footing. We made it down the steps

I stumbled on the first few steps, falling down and hearing in Arabic “Get up!”

We made it down the stairs and I could seem a dim light in common space and my mom kneeling down looking at me, tears filled her eyes along with some bruises that were starting to appear on her face. 

“You will watch” said the man. Immediately I saw fear enter into my mothers face, and she started weeping saying “Please don’t let him watch this, please!” 

“This is the punishment for claiming to be a Christian” the man said in a harsh stern tone. Then several more men entered into the room. My mom had told me many times to keep my prayers a secret, to not share with those around me because of what might happen. 

I thought that it didn’t matter, but what happened next only told me all the more why my mother had told me to keep silent. I realized what the men were going to do to my mother, and so I turned my head away, broken for what could I a ten year old boy do?

Another hand forced my head back to look upon the scene, tears streaming down my face and I couldn’t contain it any more and I started yelling at the top of my lungs. Because that’s all I could do. A hand then came and covered my mouth. I did the only thing I could think to do–close my eyes and pray.

In my mind I kept praying that God would kill these men, that fire would come and just consume them. But, nothing…nothing happened I could hear what was happening the screams of my mother, the hitting the movement. 

Again, I prayed more fervently saying “Jesus if you are real in this moment in such destruction, please hear my pleas and cries for help!” And He answered, I felt another hand gentle on my other shoulder and a peace that shouldn’t have been there came rushing over me. The whispers of a gentle father saying “I have you, I have you.”

I’ll always remember that night, for the injustice done to my mother, the fear that came over me, but how real Jesus was to me. He saved me that night and every night since. I still have to keep my faith a secret, but I believe that there will be a day when I will be able to stand before a multitude of people and share freely. I have suffered much, but it is worth knowing Christ. For even though I am kept silent and what seems like I am kept in prison, I am so free much freer than my neighbors, and even some of my siblings because I do not walk in fear.

Be praying for them, be praying for me, be praying for the breath of God to fall new onto the hungry souls that are all around. It is time for them to come home.

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ  and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead. –Philippians 3:8-10