English Intercede

Ahmad shuffles through the deserted streets of his village in the dead of night echoing over and over the summons, “Get up, O faithful believers! Arise, for this is the blessed festival of Ramadan. Get out of bed and cook, eat and pray — for prayer is better than sleep.” The 3 a.m. “caller” implores the faithful, shouting through his tattered megaphone, “Eat and drink now before the sun comes up. Dine and drink now, then exercise discipline and self-control during daylight hours.”

I don't know that I had ever seen a more exquisite garment. It didn't hurt that the bride wearing it exuded beauty even when she dressed casually; but in this attire, my lovely Muslim friend beamed like the moon. There she sat, poised beside her turban-topped prince, whose own regalia and calm confidence intensified my awareness that this event represented the culmination of an entire community's regard for values, tradition and dignity.

God is not the author of confusion, not in the orderly universe he created, not in the Church he bought with his own blood, and not within the soul of his redeemed children. Yet many converts to Christ who come from Islamic families face significant and even overwhelming confusion. To the convert the source of their confusion seems to be their new relationship with Jesus Christ, when in fact it is the result of a combination of natural and demonic effects. This confusion militates against joy, peace and confidence in the Lord and can deeply shake the faith of the new believer leaving Islam.

On October 4, the North American community of Muslims will celebrate the most important holiday of the Islamic calendar, The Feast of Sacrifice. As more and more Christians begin to reach out to Muslims, they will meet up with this holiday. A conversation with a Muslim acquaintance about this holiday could sound like the following conversation between Peter and his Muslim friend, Azim.

So often I have observed it: about 100 Muslim students, men and women, dressed in Islamic clothing, bowing to Allah at their Friday prayers. Where is this happening? In the outdoor amphitheater, right behind the Student Center, the busiest place on a major American university campus. What else have I noticed? American non-Muslim students, standing nearby, watching. What are they thinking as they see the Muslim students do their prayers? No doubt, many different attitudes are forming.

Muslim women comprise a tenth of the world's population. Whether we live in Houston, Havana, Hyderabad or Hong Kong, they are our neighbors. That makes them ours to invite to Heaven. But we hesitate — not because we deliberately ignore the fact that God commissions them to us for Heaven's glory (Acts 17: 26) — but because we don't know how to invite them. For very legitimate reasons, our perspective of who they are hinders us from initiating and nurturing redemptive friendships that are most likely their only hope for Heaven.

Cairo traffic is terrible. Noisy, loud, crammed, crazy drivers and traffic jams from eight in the morning until eight at night. Cairo taxi drivers are entertaining and varied: some are out-of-work professors, some are toothless peasants, some are gentlemen, some are creepers. Almost all of them are Muslims. We have found that taxis are incredible places to talk about Jesus.

Many Christians seem paralyzed and unable to go to Muslims with the gospel. Others focus on Islamic extremism and believe Muslims cannot, or should not, be reached. We are often like Jonah, unwilling or afraid to preach salvation or even express the love of Jesus to people we perceive as dangerous or our enemies. A Greek gentleman succinctly described this form of spiritual paralysis when he said, “We hate people we don't even know, and we don't get to know them because we hate them.”

The Arab Spring dates back to Ishmael, Abraham's son, a boy that had a father he loved, then lost that father. Ishmael develops an orphan mentality, a spirit handed down. The Arabs descend from Ishmael, and in A.D. 570 Muhammad was born, who as a young boy lost his father. One missiologist calls Islam an orphan religion, started by an orphan. It has no father figure, physically or spiritually. Muhammad inserts himself as the father figure of Islam and virtually deifies himself. The disavowal towards God as a father figure in Islam stems from this orphan mentality.

Why is it so difficult to share Christ with Muslims? When I try to tell them that Jesus is the Son of God, they accuse me of believing that God had a wife. When I try to explain to them that Jesus is God, they accuse me of believing in two separate deities. Worse still, when I speak of Jesus as the third person of the Trinity, they accuse me of believing in three separate gods — God the Father, God the Mother, and God the Son! I can't seem to make any headway. What's the problem? Have you encountered similar moments of frustration? Before we give up on Muslims, let's see if there is another way to present Christ to them.

The Quran is fierce in its condemnation of apostasy (ridda) and of the apostate (murtadd). Theirs, according to the Quran, will be a dreadful penalty (adhbun azmun). This sentiment, which occurs in Sura 16:106, is expressed again in other ways in other suras (chapters of the Quran). The interesting point to note is that the various threats of judgment and punishment seem to relate to the next world or to life after this

One cannot read today's headlines without realizing that the country of Syria is in the throes of revolution. As of
this writing (9/13/2012), reports continue to mount regarding atrocities committed by the ruling government. Arguments abound as to where blame should be cast. UN intervention attempts have been futile. The United States currently ponders options regarding some type of intervention to avoid further bloodshed. Most parties in this battle profess to be Muslims, but how is it that they are killing one another? What started this conflict in the first place? Why is it important to know Syria's President Assad is an Alawi Muslim and represents the minority community of Alawi people?