Stranger No Moreنموونە

I  decided to follow God the only way I really knew how: to open my eyes and say yes to the invitations that he continued to lay before me. Once I decided to do that, the opportunities flooded in. Like the young Muslim man from  Afghanistan who came into my shop one day. He told me that a friend had suggested I could help. I took him to a pastor and asked him to baptize the man. When the pastor asked me if I’d start a home group to help support the young man, I said yes. And when, a year later, the young man himself asked if   I would baptize him in church one Sunday, I said yes again.
 

My mom and dad joined us when we met every week. We prayed together, read the Bible a little, and talked about who Jesus was, why he died, and what it means to follow him. Not much more.
 

And when my mom asked if she could bring a friend along too, I said, "Yes." “She’s a Muslim,” Mom added. The next week my mom’s friend showed up. The Afghan man brought a few of his own friends too. They were Muslims. So there we all were, four Christians and six Muslims, all reading the Bible, talking about Jesus, and praying.  Mom’s friend wanted prayer for her son in Iran. He was a drug addict and very sick. We prayed. He got better, and the next week the mom gave her life to Jesus. Soon after that, the son did too. He said he met Jesus. In a mosque.
 

Soon we were not four Christians and six Muslims, but thirty people, some Christians, some Muslims, but all praying to Jesus. All expecting him to heal us. All learning to say “yes” to him. We saw marriages restored, lives transformed, and so many refugees who were desperate for help turn to Jesus and give him their lives as a result.   Whenever we prayed, I knew God would answer. And I knew that God had given me this job—to serve my people.