My name is Ava. I was born in Tehran, Iran.
I was born in a very religious family. The name my parents chose for me is a religious name, and my last name also indicates the long religious history of our ancestors. When I say my full name in Iran, I receive special respect. People from Iran immediately know that all of my ancestors are from the Qur’an and their religion is Islam and their prophet is Muhammad.
In Iran, children are introduced to the Qur’an from a very young age. Qur’an instruction is compulsory in schools, and learning Arabic is also required, though my native tongue is Farsi. Because of the religiousness of our families and friends, I spent most of my free time studying the Qur’an and performing ruqyahs (recitations of the Qur’an). I had memorized much of the Qur’an. Of course, since I was a child growing up in these circles, I unknowingly built my identity to be inseparable from the Qur’an.
But there was always a question in my mind:
given what I had learned, why should I fear God?
I was taught to constantly think of myself as in danger of going to hell. We had always been told that God is closer to you than your neck, so you must be careful not to make mistakes because He will punish you and punish you. I understood that I should not make mistakes, but I though it was unreasonable to be so afraid of the God who created us, or to imagine that he was waiting every moment to see if I would make a mistake so he could punish me.
Sometimes I fought with God. I would tell him, “What justice do you have?”
I read the Qur’an beautifully during the ruqyahs, and many of my friends loved me for being religious, but I never felt good about myself. I didn’t even like my name. Sometimes I even thought that being a Muslim was a wall separating me from the God I was supposed to serve. In junior high and high school, I no longer wanted to show my religion to my friends. Sometimes I was even ashamed.
So I had to create a separate me.
The me my father and my family loved…
… and the second me, the one I loved and the one my friends loved.
In Islam, dance is forbidden for women, but I was very interested in singing and dancing. I secretly went to private dance classes. My father was so angry when he found out. He came into class and got me. “You are not an ordinary girl,” he told me. “Whatever you want to do, you must first consider the value of your family name.” It was very difficult for me to accept, especially at that age.
My friends were also in two groups: the first group was very religious and acceptable to my parents. But the second group were from ordinary families and sometimes didn’t have much faith. At the age of 14, I changed my name. I made everyone call me Ava* even though that wasn’t the name on my birth certificate. My father refused to accept it.
* * * * *
My father wanted me to study psychology in University, but I wanted me to study management. Just as he had imposed religious beliefs on me, he also wanted to impose on my academic future. We argued, and the end result was that I did not pursue a degree in psychology. The next year, I took a management degree and started it.
We were in the second semester of the Qur’an class when the Professor stood up and asked, “Is everyone in the class Muslim?”
Only one person did not raise his hand. He was Zoroastrian.
The professor continued to speak. “The Qur’an is a more complete Bible. Only the Qur’an is correct. No distortions are included in the Qur’an, but other books are lies because they have been distorted. The Prophet Muhammad came to us with the most correct and complete book.
“For example, in the Bible it says that God became a dove and sat on the shoulder of Jesus. Dear students, see how meaningless the gospel is? The writer views God as a worthless bird or an animal!” And then she started laughing.
When I heard this, I stood up. I knew that my name and family carried weight. To Iran, it was as if I had been born from the Qur’an’s heart. I thought maybe if I talked about God as I understood him, my peers and professor would accept my words.
“Professor,” I said, “why do you despise the Bible? Isn’t the Bible also sacred? You are supposed to be our role model, so why are you mocking it? The pigeons and other animals are sacred, too. God created them just like he created you and me.”
“You should be ashamed of your name and family!” my professor said. “Now that you are advocating a false religion and book, I’m going to tell the president of the university about what you have said. Get out of my class!”
After that, everything changed in my mind. The position of teachers and professors of the Qur’an became clear to me. There was a big spark in my mind.
* * * * *
Around the same time, my older sister was pursuing her PhD in photography.
In the center of Iran there is a town that is completely unknown, except that it is the location of a famous convent. Women go there to learn the Qur’an as I had learned it as a child. They live and study at the convent. So my sister took her camera and went to live among them.
She heard their stories and got to know them. To her surprise, she found that about half of the women don’t care about Islam, but are forced to attend the school because of their families—similar to the way I’d been forced to memorize the Qur’an and recite ruqyahs.
At the convent, there is a rule that no woman can see a man. The classes are taught by an imam, but curtains hide the women from view. There is a special path made, completely shuttered by curtains, so that the imam can walk to the front without seeing any women. My sister leaned around the curtain and snapped a few photographs.
As the women got to know my sister, they started to open up to her, telling her of how their Qur’an teachers would rape them. My sister was horrified. When she told me what was happening, I was, too. My sister sent the pictures and the story to a magazine in Paris. When her friends found out what she had done, they told the police.
To punish them, the Iranian government arrested her husband. They would have kept him indefinitely, but my father went and traded the deed to our house in exchange for his release. I suppose there are some good things about being part of my family—my father had many friends at the police station, so we were able to get the deed to our house back after he had been released. Otherwise, we would all be homeless.
My sister and her husband had to flee the country.I don’t know where they are now, but I know they are waiting for asylum in America or Canada.
After hearing of rape and thousands of instances of ugliness and other sins, everything I had learned about Islam, the Qur’an and God lost all its weight.
But I still had to play the role.
For my father and my family: a religious girl
To my friends: a completely different person
In private, I was very sad because I did not know who I was. Worse, I had no idea who God was.
* * * * *
I married for love instead of an arranged marriage. My husband was not very religious, but I wanted him to be. For my sake, he started to read the Qur’an and pray, but he wasn’t happy. He had never liked Islam. Every time, he told me that if he found another way to talk to God, he would change religions.
We came to Turkey so I could continue my education. An institution in Iran had told me that if I paid them, they would enroll me in a university in Turkey. My husband loved me so much that he abandoned his family and sold the shop he owned to come to Turkey with me.
The Iranian institute had told me to study English so that I would be ready to start university. We arrived in Turkey safely, only to find out that it was a scam.
I was not enrolled at the university. Our money was gone.
The university was public. And to enroll, I had to take a test.
In Turkish.
We couldn’t go back to Iran because we had sold all our stuff. We had quit our jobs and given our house back to its owner. We had no choice but to stay.
Desperate, we found ourselves walking along the beach where we met another Iranian couple. They were both rock musicians. After we had met a few times, they suggested a church in the city. “You can go there to find out about Christianity and change your religion if you like,” they said. They were both atheists.
The husband’s entire body was full of horrible tattoos. He had a cross on his right arm. When he started singing rock I felt as if the devil was singing through him. I don’t mean to insult rock music, just to express what I felt at the time.
I have no idea why they led us to church.
Not only that, but they repeatedly followed up, asking whether we were going, and whether we were going to read the Bible and not just pretend to follow Jesus.
Our relationship with them diminished over time, but we did get connected at the church. We learned about the Bible for eight months in a row. And all our thoughts and attitudes toward life changed.
It was easy for my husband to believe in Jesus. However, for me to accept that I had been in sin for many years and worshipping God incorrectly was difficult. I was not sure that this was right, and would often argue with the pastor about different points.
* * * * *
The university lecturers told me you had to learn Turkish before you could pass the entrance exam, but I struggled with the language. They do not have the same sounds as Arabic or Persian, and they have extra vowels.
When the exam day came, I knew as much Turkish as a 5-year-old.
To pass, I needed 50/100.
I scored 49.5.
I cried a lot and was upset. “I asked you for help!” I told God. “So why didn’t you help me?”
I begged the university officials again. They finally told me there was another way. “You can take a university exam,” they said. “You’ll only need to answer 5 essay questions in Turkish.”
This depressed me. My Turkish was not good. How could I take an exam?
I went to another professor at the university and told him my situation. He agreed to help and gave me 5 books, each containing at least 200 pages. “The five questions will come from these books,” he said. “Read the lessons to get ready for the exam.”
I only had a month until the exam. I couldn’t understand the content of my books. And because I had changed my field of study from management in my undergrad to tourism management for my masters, things were even harder. I had to compete with Turkish students who had completed their undergraduate degrees in tourism management.
I prayed, I know you want the best for me. You chose me and showed me the way. Please show me the way to pass this exam.
I couldn’t read all the pages of the books.
The exam day arrived. I read the questions one by one and started writing.
My fingers were not listening to my brain. They wrote and wrote. The paper was full but I knew I had to keep writing, so I took more paper from the exam watcher. I didn’t understand the words I was writing.
This was difficult and of course very weird. I was startled. God, how strange are you?
The answer came in the exam. Of the 90 participants, only 2 foreign and 8 Turkish students were admitted.
First: me.
With a score of 100.
It’s amazing. I had not tried. God tried for me.
I knew then that Jesus Christ was my God. I gave him all my life and all my heart.
* * * * *
I told my brothers and sisters of the changes in my life, but all of us agreed to keep my conversion a secret from my mother and father. When my husband and I became Christians, we had a special remarriage ceremony, this time with Jesus at the center. My sister—a doctor in Iran—attended the ceremony.
My father used to come visit me every year, for a special Iranian holiday. The last time he was here, he saw our Christmas tree and told me to throw it away. I am not Christian, he said, so why should I have that kind of thing in my house?
Later during the visit he found my Bible. Once he realized what it was he told my mother that this was the last time he would visit me. He has not spoken to me since, until last week when he texted me saying that he misses me and wants to come and visit again. Neither of my parents know that I have officially converted, but they suspect.
* * * * *
There are many things going on in life.
I still have a lot of problems even though I believe in Jesus.
In the last day of school before my master thesis was due, my new professor told me he was leaving. The new professor wants me to wait five months. I have already been accepted to a PhD program in Germany which starts in less than that time.
I applied for a German visa twice and was denied both times.
Someone stole my money again, promising to enroll me in the German university.
I had friends on the plane from Ukraine. They were killed by the Iranian government.
I had promised my cousin I would come to her wedding, but I could not go because of my passport. Her countrymen are at war with the Iranian government.
Thousands of women, children and young people who were my compatriots have been massacred in Iran over other big and small issues.
I am saddened by these problems, both personal and public, but once I remember that my God is a God of miracles and he is able to do anything for us, I am able to calm down.
My God is alive and I worship Him. After I put my faith in Jesus I received many miracles.
The biggest one is the birth of my son. He was born seven years after my husband and I were married.
How glad I am that he was born in Christ.
He is also a son of God.
* * * * *
Pray for Ava:
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That the German government would award my family visas so I can continue to study.
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I sent an email canceling my son’s visa application because the school said that I would be more likely to be approved that way. Please pray that God would hide that email from their eyes.
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Pray for my family to come to know Jesus as I know him!
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Pray that my relationship with my father would be restored so that I can have an influence in his life.
