Thursday, December 15, 2005

"N" ’s Story

I was born into one of the most politically powerful tribes in Afghanistan. My grandfather was a good friend of the king and was himself the governor of northern Afghanistan. My grandfather’s highest hope for my father as he was growing up was that he continue the family tradition of political and religious leadership. But my father wasn’t very interested in religion, and he felt honored when he was one of a few students handpicked to be trained at the prestigious army university. His decision to join the army upset the entire family, but on the day he was to start university my grandfather died, so no one in
the family was there to oppose him.

After he had been at the university for two years, the Soviet army chose some people to go to Russia for more military education. My father and all his classmates were transferred to flight school to become pilots. After finishing his education, my father returned to Afghanistan and married my mother. My mother was the daughter of one of the most powerful people in government at that time.

Soon after my parents’ marriage, Russia gained more influence in the government, and decided to put the people they had trained into positions of power. My father was made the commander of the first military airport. In April of 1978, he and many of the others who trained in Russia started a successful Communist revolution and took over the government. One of my dad’s best friends was killed in the revolution, and to honor his memory my father named me after him when I was born later that year. Two years later my brother was born, and my dad chose a name for him from another of his fallen friends.

A while afterwards another Communist movement started and my father was put under house arrest for two years. After the two years my family was moved to Kandahar when another political faction wanted to use my father as a political symbol. They gave him a job, but no real power.

Yet another revolution happened, and the new group in power sent my dad to study in Russia again. They were afraid to have him in the country because they thought he might try to overthrow them. He studied political science at Lenin University in Moscow. In the first year he was in Russia one of his friends was called back to Afghanistan and killed by the government. My youngest brother was named after that friend. During the year that he was in Russia without us, my father worried that we were in danger, that something like what had happened to his friend would happen to his family. My mother was afraid too, so she kept me at home and taught me herself rather than sending me to school where I could be harmed. In 1985 my father asked us to join him in Russia, where we would be safer. I started school there in Moscow.

In 1990 my family moved back to Afghanistan. Again my dad gained power in a political group, and he became a leader of the air force. He became a
leader of the Defense Ministry. One of the mujahidin (the group that later became the Taliban) wrote to my father asking him to come work with them, to change the government. He refused their offer.

The mujahidin successfully took over the country, and when they did most of the people who had been in power previously ran away from Afghanistan.
Because my dad was from one of the most respected tribes in Afghanistan, he returned to his home city, hoping that fear of his family and tribe would keep others from harming him. Considering his history, he feared that he would be a target, but remained confident that no one would want to defy his family.

I loved to visit my mother’s parents, who lived about 100 km away. When I was 13 I went to stay with my grandparents for a month. After I had only been there for two days someone came to take me back to my parents’ house. I was angry that my vacation was interrupted, and didn’t want to go. When I arrived home I saw a huge crowd gathered around my house. I saw my uncles and thought, “Why are they here?”

My memories from that day are the worst, saddest pictures of my life. I had been brought home to attend the funeral of my entire family. I learned that people had gathered in front of my house at night and killed everyone inside—my father, my mother, and my two little brothers. Worst of all, my parents had desperately wanted to have a daughter, and my mom was pregnant. I wouldn’t talk to anyone. My grief made me crazy. I was sent back to my grandparents’ home, and from that day my grandmother and grandfather became my parents.

Since I was the only one in my family left alive, my uncle was afraid that I was in danger. He took me to Kabul so that I would be safe.

In 1992 the situation in Afghanistan grew even worse, so I went with a younger friend to Tashkent, the capital of Uzbekistan. I started studying the martial arts, and as my love for them grew, so did my hatred. I thought that if I grew stronger and more powerful in the martial arts, I could kill whomever I wanted to. The son of one of the previous leaders of Afghanistan started the school I attended in Uzbekistan, hoping to train people who would one day go back and retake power. He encouraged me in my hatred, and told me that one day I would be powerful and could punish the people who had killed my family. I
started counting the days. How much longer until that day when I could finally take power and have my revenge?

After a year the economy in Uzbekistan worsened, so I moved back to Afghanistan. I went to Kabul, and dedicated myself to school, knowing that education would help me gain power. In 1995 I joined the Youth Islamic Group, even though I was not really a Muslim. I was the only one who was brave enough to speak in front of people, so I started being given leadership roles. In my last year of high school I became a vice president of the group. I started reading the Koran and other books about Islam, and daily became more interested in learning about the faith. The former king hoped that the Youth Islamic Group would one day take over the government. The group chose several students to go to university in Egypt, and I was among those selected. They sent me to Pakistan first, and there I was rejected for the university because I am not Pashtu. They saw my past and rejected me. This time in Pakistan was
very difficult for me.

When I went back to Afghanistan the Taliban was gaining strength. I went to Mazar-e-Sharif and registered for law school. The political situation got even worse, so I went to Iran. I sold two of the houses that my family owned to be able to start a shop importing rice from Pakistan. I had a great life in Iran for the five years I lived there. I connected with the previous government of Afghanistan, which had an embassy in Iran. With their help, I opened an office of the Islamic Youth Group.

I read a great deal, studying the lives of strong leaders who threw off their oppressors. I loved reading about Hitler, Nelson Mandela, Napoleon Bonaparte, and Patrice LeMumba. I began to idolize Adolf Hitler. My vision was to become like him, to achieve what he achieved. I learned everything I could about him—I could probably write the definitive book on Hitler, I know so much about him. I think I didn’t even love my father or my best friend as much as I loved Hitler. I wouldn’t smoke, drink alcohol, or have relations with any woman because I wanted to be like him.

When America went into Afghanistan after the attacks of September 11, 2001, all the Afghans living outside the country were filled with hope. I went back to Afghanistan thinking that we would finally have democracy. I thought, “With everything happening now, I can really take power. It’s a great opportunity for Afghanistan!” But soon I saw that there was no real change. Everything just stayed the same; they just substituted one person’s name for another. Everyone who had power before still retained their power. The man who killed my family is the leader of the military in north Afghanistan—he has more power now than ever before. My uncle warned me that my existence was a threat to that man, that he would try to kill me because he knew I would stand against him. So I left again, and went back to Iran for two months.

My family in England encouraged me to come to Europe. They paid a smuggler to take me to Turkey. We walked from Tehran to Istanbul, walking for 9 days over the mountains.

In the room where I was staying with a friend, I found an old and torn-apart book. It was the Gospel of Matthew. I read it not because I was interested in it, but because it was the only thing I could find to read in Farsi and I really missed reading. A few things in the book caught my attention. I read that if
anyone slaps your face, you should turn the other cheek. I also read, “Let your yes be yes and your no be no.” Muslims are always swearing that they will do something, but then they don’t. The more I read the more I realized that even though Muslims view Jesus as a prophet, the teachings in the Koran are exactly opposite to what he taught.

After staying in Turkey for a month and a half, I paid a smuggler about $2,500 to take me to Greece. When I arrived in Athens I only had one phone number, and the person I called took me to the Afghan Hotel (an apartment filled with Afghan refugees). I was just planning to stay for as long as it took for my family to find someone to smuggle me to Belgium and then on to Germany. While I was waiting I talked to an Iranian man named Hamid, who also lived in the hotel. I asked him if he would take me to a church. He said, “I will show you, but I will never, never enter that place.” I came to Helping Hands in the afternoon, and the only person there was Mohammed. From the way that he greeted me and talked with me, I felt like he had known me for ages. He was so friendly, and it was really touching. After I had come to Helping Hands several times Mohammed gave me a Farsi New Testament and Josh McDowell’s More Than a Carpenter.

I knew a lot about Islam and the Koran from studying so much and from leading the Islamic group. I knew that Islam is about killing and hatred. Many times in Afghanistan I saw people killed and mutilated in the name of God. When I saw the difference between the two religions, I accepted Christ. I had missed my family for a long time, and when I was around Christians I felt that I was part of a family again. The Christians I met were so open and loving that I felt like I belonged, and I needed that.

My family sent a smuggler to take me to Germany, but I didn’t want to go with him. I knew my family wouldn’t be happy that I became a Christian. I knew they would try to change me. I decided to stay in Athens so that I could study more about the Bible. As my heart grew stronger in faith I realized that I had never felt so good, and that I needed to learn more about God. I thought, “I have this great gift of peace, and I need to share this peace with others. If all the Afghan people felt like I feel now, there will be no more war. All the fighting will end.” That was when I decided I would stay and study more and grow stronger, and then return to Afghanistan instead of going on to another country.

There have been many big changes in my life since I invited Jesus into my life, and am free from the bondage of sin. Also, I feel like I am not alone any more, and I don’t long for my family like I used to. I used to do whatever I wanted to do, but now I know that there is a person that I can trust holding my hand, and he will help me walk in the places that he wants me to go. I have also forgiven the people who killed my family. I hold nothing against them now.

I feel a lot of responsibility toward my people in Afghanistan, and I want to give them the things that I have found. My country has been at war for 25 years. Thousands and thousands of people have been born into war and have grown up in war, and that’s all they know in life. The only thing they know is hatred. I was one of those people, but now I have found love. I believe that for Afghanistan there can only be one solution, only one doctor that can help the country—and that is Jesus Christ. No one else could take away the hatred that fills the country.

My vision is to gather a group of believers unified by the same goal and return to Afghanistan together. We can spread out to different cities, reaching more places for Christ in the country at the same time. I plan to build a church and an orphanage on the family property that I still have in Afghanistan. I want to give all my life, until the last moment that I am here, for God.

If my story has touched you, please pray for Afghanistan. Pray also that God will continue to grow my heart, that the things He has planted there will grow deeper and deeper, stronger and stronger.

Nader

Nader was born in a small city in Iran. In the mornings Nader would study to be an auto mechanic, and in the evenings he attended high school. During his military service, he worked in forgeries making false documents, but he also got into trouble for forging some papers for some friends and he had to leave the country. From Turkey he phoned his father who told him not to come back because a five-year jail sentence was waiting for him.

In Turkey, Nader continued to forge documents and also started using drugs. One night, he was using heroin when the police raided the hotel where he was staying with other Iranians. Nader was arrested, and after 8 days in jail prayed, “God, if I get out, I won’t use drugs and I won’t spend time with the Iranians who are bad influences on me.” The next day Nader was released.

Nader kept his promise. His time in prison had detoxified his body from the heroin and when he was released he could not find his friends. He worked at a job for 19 months cleaning machinery by hand because the owner couldn’t afford cleaning chemicals. But the temptation to start forging again could not be resisted. Nader made a passport for Germany.

Before he had a chance to use the passport he met an Iranian named Abraham who wearing a cross necklace. Nader asked the man if he was a Christian. He answered “yes” and told Nader that he was attending an Iranian church in Istanbul. When Nader asked him how he had changed his religion, he answered, “I don’t know how. God changed me.” He encouraged Nader to read the Bible and to bring his questions to the pastor of the Iranian church. Nader had a two-pack-a-day smoking habit so he stayed up late the night before going to church, smoking and reading the New Testament, but he was not able to understand it. In the morning, he got up early to go to church, but as he looked in the mirror while shaving he thought in his heart that God is holy and so he should take a shower to cleanse himself. And suddenly the Bible made sense to him, and he believed it!

When Nader walked into church that morning, a believer named John approached him and asked if he was a Christian. “Yes”, answered Nader. Had he been baptized? “Yes!” answered Nader again, thinking of his morning shower after understanding the meaning of the Bible. “I was baptized in the house today.” John looked
at him strangely, but he and the pastor prayed for Nader. They told him that he really ought to be baptized “again”. Two months later he quit smoking, but was still not baptized.

Nader wanted to use his false passport to leave for Germany, but the pastor told him, “God told us He wants you to go to Greece…go, pray, ask God.”

Initially resistant to the idea, Nader eventually agreed to go to Greece with Abraham. Arriving with nothing, they slept in the park and began attending an international fellowship. He met Ella there (a Filipina to whom he is now married) and she introduced him to HELPING HANDS volunteer Joel Scarborough.

Since then, Nader has grown stronger in his faith and has been a faithful servant in the various programs here. He has been a house leader in our Nest ministry, he shares the Gospel with all who will listen, trains new believers in discipleship and evangelism, and is currently the primary leader of, the Persian Christian Fellowship in Athens. Through his character, behavior, and use of his spiritual gifts we are seeing the kingdom of God advanced in him, and through him, for the glory of the Lord.

Yasmin

Yasmin shivered in her cell as she reviewed her desperate circumstances. Her husband Rezar was confined in another part of the Greek prison. What was he thinking right now, she wondered. Did he regret fleeing persecution? Was he remembering the time he'd spent in an Iranian jail for playing in a band at a Christian gathering? Though a Muslim, he was still beaten for the offence.

Yasmin, a teacher of the Islamic catechism for women and children, had also run afoul of the government. She had gotten into trouble for wearing the wrong colour of clothing and for allegedly teaching little girls to remove their head coverings, though in reality she was only checking them for lice.

The couple finally decided to escape to the West. On their way through Turkey Yasmin had a dream about Jesus, where she saw herself walking behind Him as His servant. Several months later, the couple arrived in Athens, and that's when their hopes began to unravel. First they lost all their money, and then the police arrested them.

"Greece is a Christian country," Yasmin reasoned in her cell. "Perhaps I should pray to Jesus because He will have power here."

Later that night, Yasmin's cellmate told of a dream she'd had in which four great shining angels surrounded Yasmin as she was praying. The angels prayed for Yasmin and Rezar and then the dream ended. Twelve days later Yasmin and Rezar were released from jail together.

After their release, the couple went to the only friend they had in Athens, who just happened to have a Bible in Farsi as well as the address of the Athens Refugee Center. Yasmin couldn't stop reading the Bible, and even read parts of it aloud to Rezar. It seemed so wonderful! At the A.R.C. she met others who also believed in Jesus.

One night Rezar had a dream where the Lord came, placed His hand on Rezar's head and said, "Follow me." That was all the man needed. He woke Yasmin, told her of the dream and decided that he too must become a Christian.

On a sunny Athens beach not long afterwards, a crowd of refugees, believers and curious sunbathers listened as Rezar passionately sang his confession of faith in his native Farsi. Then he and Yasmin were baptized as the multitude looked on.

Since that moment, Yasmin and Rezar have continued to grow in faith and are finishing their second term at the International School of Ministry. During this time they have suffered through two miscarriages, haven't had a permanent place to live, nor been able to find work. Despite the problems, when asked how she felt about being in Athens, Yasmin's face lit-up. "We have lost everything, but have found Jesus," she said.

" G" 's Testimony

I grew up in an Islamic religious family in Iran. I was doing all of the things I was supposed to do as a Muslim until four years ago, praying five times a day, fasting during Ramadan, weeping and crying on Moharam ("Unclean Month" that commemorates the death of an Islamic leader). But four years ago, when I was still in Iran, I heard a little bit about the Bible. I heard that Jesus died one time for my sins and I don't have to play a game, I can worship God with all of my heart, it doesn't matter how. Anything from the heart, God accepts.

I was a chef in a 15-story hotel in Tehran for seven years, but while I was getting divorced, I lost my job.

I found a new job working for a mosque, making tea and watching the shoes of the faithful who entered the mosque barefoot. Normally, I caught a bus to go home, but on that day I started walking home instead. I was close to Tehran University, when suddenly a large crowd of people spilled off the campus and into the street. The students had been striking, but the school kicked them out off campus so the police could arrest them. I didn't know what was going on. The police arrested about 500 students, and I was in the middle of it. They separated us from the women, put us in a prison and kept us in the dark; we didn't even know which part of Iran we were in. All they gave us to eat was bread.

A policeman came in, laughed at us, and asked, "Which do you prefer, to have your head broken or your fingernails pulled out?" Then one by one, the guards would come and take someone to another room to be beaten and tortured. Some of the people taken into that room never left it alive. Others ended up in the hospital. Others simply disappeared. I prayed in my own language (not Arabic, like Muslims are supposed to do), and I called out to God, asking, "What's my fault? Why should this happen to me?" On the 20th day of my imprisonment, while I was praying, they called me into that room.

I knew I was going to die. I could hear women screaming from another room. I was interrogated, asked what I had been doing there near the University. They would ask me a question and then hit me. They discovered that I was simply a normal worker, and they knew that I didn't know anything. I knew that the university had security cameras all around its campus and that there had to be photographic evidence that showed my trip home. But they kept asking to see if they could find anything else out. They were waiting for me to say one word. They tortured me like this for seven hours. The only way I knew it was that long was because the sun shone through a tiny window; at the beginning it has straight up above, noon, but when they finally finished it was completely dark.

The interrogator couldn't find anything out from me, so he picked up a board. As he swung it toward me, it hit the light bulb that lit the room and then my head. As the light bulb exploded, I blacked out. I didn't know what happened after he hit me.

They moved me to the hospital. When I finally woke up, I found out which hospital I was in and that I had been out for 15 days. I was not allowed to contact any friends, and no one could visit me. After 20 days in the hospital, I found out a way to contact my parents. They came to visit me and told me that during the month I was gone, they had been searching everywhere. The authorities let my parents come because, by then, they realized that I was not with any group, I had just been passing by. Even though we tried, we couldn't go to the judge for justice for what had happened to me because the judge is part of the government. Nothing became of it. We paid a lawyer a lot of money, but he couldn't do anything. The only thing the lawyer did was get my name off the list of members of the particular party in trouble so that I could get a passport. To this day, I still don't know what the students were striking about. Through all of this, I still loved God, even though He let this happen.

Nine months later, I left for Turkey. I didn't have any money left after paying the lawyer, and I wanted to find a better job with better pay, so I left Iran. I have a 9-year-old son. I left him with my parents. When I moved to Turkey, I saw a lot of bad places, and I prayed, "God help me and protect me. Don't bring me there." And from that time, God kept me pure. Whenever I asked him to do something for me, he would do it.

When I moved to Turkey, I met a person whose name was Amir. Amir invited me to go to church with him. I had heard something about Christianity in Iran, so I was curious to see the inside of a church. One Sunday, we went to the church. When I went into the church, I saw that they were singing and dancing while they were worshiping. I had to take a step back and say to myself, "Oh, God will curse me," because I wanted to worship with song. (In Islam, music is considered worldly, never to be used in connection with God.) But I loved that kind of worship, and something didn't let me leave.

When I came back from the church, to my home, my roommates found out that I had been inside the church. Before that, I had been cooking for the 15 people living together with me in one house. I was a cook. After they found out I was in a church, I still cooked for them, but they wouldn't let me sit and eat with them. They would just call for me to clean up afterward. All of my roommates were strict Muslims. I continued to cook for them for seven months but never ate with them after that first visit to the church.

I was tired of their behavior, so I decided to leave Turkey and come to Greece. I had been in Turkey for almost 3 years. I arrived in Greece on June 21, 2001. It was on my second day in Greece that I met a boy whose name is Pejman. He brought me to Helping Hands where I met Brother Nader. Nader showed me the baptism class because I was interested in getting baptized, so I attended the class. The teacher was a man named Joel. I was in the class for two months, and then one day I woke up and felt I had received something in my spirit. So I decided to get baptized. From that day Helping Hands has helped me a lot to grow. I thank Brother Scott, Brother Nader, and Brother Themis.

My hope is to bring my son to join me and live under the power of God, no matter where, except in Iran. I want to be a servant. The only thing I can do is cook, so I want to cook for God. In Greece, America, anywhere, it doesn't matter.

If one person in America reads this, maybe they can help me and my son. Thank you.

"G" still has a hole in his skull from being beaten in the head; he suffers from intense, periodic headaches. Despite this, "G" regularly volunteers for Helping Hands and cooks a meal for the Persian Christian Fellowship every Sunday at the Athens Refugee Center.

A New Life

When someone becomes a Christian, he becomes a new person inside.
He is not the same any more. A new life has begun!
- II Corinthians 5:17

As a young man in Afghanistan, I knew something about Jesus. Like other Muslims, I thought He was a special prophet and an amazing person. I respected Him and even believed that He rose from the dead, but I didn't believe that He was God.

Gradually, my interest in Jesus grew and my ideas changed. This began when I had a dream about Jesus. I'd been thinking about my future, and told my parents that I wanted to change my religion and leave Afghanistan. You can imagine how they responded! They said the same thing that your parents would have said: They told me I was crazy. I had been a very religious Muslim so they couldn't understand my change of heart; but they loved me and didn't forbid my pursuits.

Then I had a second dream: I dreamt that I left Afghanistan, converted to Christianity, and was being baptized in the sea. This dream was really outrageous since I had little hope of escaping Afghanistan and no reason to change religions. But that dream never left me and it kept my interest in Jesus alive.

When I was 17 years old, I rejected Islam and began searching for another religion. Some of my friends who knew of my search called me an atheist.

But Afghanistan is not the place for religious experimentation. I knew that if I wanted to learn more about Jesus, I would need to leave my country. To prepare me for the journey, my sister's husband suggested that I learn English. My parents, who had never learned to read their own language, cheered me on. If my dream of leaving Afghanistan became real, I wanted to be ready.

As I studied, something wonderful happened: I met an American family of Christians in Afghanistan. They welcomed me like a son and soon I could see that their lives were different. They were honest, gracious, and full of hope. I was attracted to their optimism and wondered how I could find the same joy. In those days, as I dreamt about the future and tried to find the truth, I felt as if there might be a door through which I could walk to begin a new life. I didn't know how to find that door, but I felt that these Christians were closer to it than anyone I'd ever met before.

I loved that family and wanted to become like them. I though that I could do this by going to America. I asked the mother how I might accomplish this. It isn't easy, she said. Go step by step. If God wants you to go to America, He'll lead you there.

Step by step, my journey began. From Afghanistan, I went to Pakistan, and then on to Iran. There, my curiosity about Jesus grew. How could I find out more about this forbidden faith? I found my answer in an unlikely place: on the street. As I wandered in the markets, I saw a vendor selling Bibles. I bought one and marveled that I hadn't been caught, since buying Bibles is illegal for Muslims in Iran.

I began to devour that Bible, reading first the Old and then the New Testaments. Much of what I read mystified me but I continued my search. I tried to attend a Christian church in Iran, but the Christians feared that I was a Muslim and wouldn't let me enter the building. I waited outside, tried to listen to the message, and then went on my way.

As I traveled west, other significant events helped me to understand more about Jesus. In Iran, I saw a movie that claimed that He was the Son of God, and that He died on the cross to pay the price for the sins of the world. When I arrived in Turkey, I went to Catholic and Orthodox churches and learned a bit more.

When I arrived in Athens, my search took on a new urgency. I slept in Alexandreas Park for two months and was relieved when someone there told me about Helping Hands in Omonia. At Helping Hands, I ate soup and met other guys my age who were traveling west. I went to the English and Bible lessons, and I liked the friendly Christians who ran the center.

I especially liked the Bible teacher. I learned many good things about Jesus and got a clearer understanding of the Bible by attending his classes. The teacher told us often that Jesus could give a person a new life. He read from the Injil: When someone becomes a Christian he becomes a new person inside. He is not the same any more. while going to America might give me a better life, knowing Jesus would give me the best life.

That wasn't the answer I wanted to hear, so I took matters into my own hands. I joined a group of men who planned to go to Italy. As we waited for the ferry boat in Patra, a woman approached me and handed me a book about Jesus. I was stunned. There are hundreds of people here in the crowd, I thought to myself. Why did she give this book to me?

Meanwhile, passengers were boarding the ferry boat and my friends urged me to follow them. But I realized that I didn't want to follow them, and felt an urge to return to Athens. I was sure that an important encounter awaited me there, and so I returned alone as my friends sailed west.

When I got back to Omonia, I marched into Helping Hands. I told the Bible teacher about the woman in Patra and said that I wanted to become a Christian. The Bible teacher listened patiently and then asked me why I wanted to change my religion. Do you want to become a Christian to go to America, or to know Jesus? he asked.

That was a hard question, and I didn't know the answer. I realized that my motives were mixed. I asked God to show me which religion I should choose. Oh God, I prayed, Show me the way! Soon I had a third dream: I dreamt of the cross of Christ, and I heard Jesus say, I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father, but through me. (John 14:6).

Shortly after that, the Bible teacher asked me to translate some of the Koran into English. As I read the passage describing Jesus' birth, I compared the Koran's account with the Injil's, and was convinced that Jesus wasn't only a prophet, but the Son of God who came to earth to die for my sins and to give me a new life.

That moment of belief was the important encounter that awaited me in Athens -- the most important encounter of my life. Soon I was baptized in the sea, thus fulfilling my boyhood dream.

What have I gained from following Jesus? First, joy. I'm very happy because I know that Jesus has saved me from the sins that should have condemned me. I'm also happy because through Jesus, I can know God, and can talk to Him like a son. God also encourages me during the hard times when the realities of the world bring me pain. Last year, for example, I had a bad accident in Athens and I was tempted to doubt God. But I learned that suffering builds my faith.

Trusting Jesus as my Savior has also helped my attitude. Before I was a Christian, I was a good, hard worker who minded the law. But I was also very proud and I judged other people harshly. Now I am humbled that Jesus took the punishment for my sins and that I am only saved by His grace. God has given me love for my enemies, patience, and the peace that my life is safe in His hands.

One of my favorite stories in the Injil is the story of Jesus and the demoniac who lived among the tombs. The man, tormented by demons and darkness, was hopeless. But Jesus healed him and gave him a new life. Before he left the man, Jesus said to him, Return to your house and describe what great things God has done for you. The man went away, proclaiming throughout the whole city what great things Jesus had done for him (Luke 8:38, 39).

I feel like that man! Jesus has given me a new life, and He can give you a new life, too.

As you read this, I am somewhere in Italy, or perhaps I am even further in my journey. I don't know if I'll ever see America, but that isn't important to me now. I have found the Door to a new life, and His name is Jesus.

from slave to son

"Therefore, you are no longer a slave, but a son ..."
- Galatians 4:7

Before I trusted Jesus as my Savior, I didn't know God. I grew up under fanatical Islamic and knew that He existed; but I saw Him dimly, hidden behind dark veils of mystery and wrath.

God both inspired and frightened me. I had been taught that He was just and that on the Day of Reckoning my life would be judged. On that day, I'd been warned, a book containing my deeds would be opened. The Koran affirmed this: "Every man's actions have we hung around his neck, and on the last day shall be laid out before him a wide-open book." (Sura 17:13) Since childhood, I'd imagined invisible scribes recording my every action into that book. I dreaded the day on which it would be opened.

I was afraid of the future and frustrated by the present. I had been taught to work for my salvation, but I had also been taught that I might not be saved. Likewise, though God was merciful and sometimes forgave my sins, one couldn't be too presumptuous. My fate and my forgiveness depended upon His will. "Allah sendeth whom He will astray, and guideth whom He will", says the Koran (Sura 14:4, 16:93, 74:31). I felt like a slave to a faraway Master. Indeed, slavery is the ideal of Islam according to the Koran: "There is none in the heavens and the earth but cometh unto the Beneficent as a slave." (Sura 19:93)

Like a slave, I followed my Master out of fear, but I never knew if my efforts would change my destiny. All of life's events -- whether big or small, good or bad -- were attributed to God's will. Thus, I reasoned, obeying the Islamic laws seemed unimportant if my every move had already been ordained. I grew fatalistic and further alienated from God.

But Islam was all I had ever known, and so it was the road on which I traveled for more than 30 years.
Then, my route changed. First it changed geographically, when I came to Athens; and then it changed altogether when I learned about the God of the Bible.

My first lesson came in Omonia, at Helping Hands. There, I listened to a video about Jesus, attended Bible classes and was introduced to an entirely different God than the God I'd known before.

I learned that some similarities exist between the God of the Koran and the God of Christianity. For example, both Islam and Christianity teach that God is the only God, and that He alone is powerful, wise and just. And, like the God of the Koran, the God of the Bible desires that men serve and obey only Him.

But the similarities end there. The Bible teacher said that while God demands that my sins be punished, He sent His holy Son, Jesus Christ, to take my punishment. I read the Injil, with its wonderful and almost unbelievable news of Jesus' salvation. "But God demonstrates His love for us, in that while we were still sinners, Jesus Christ died for us. Much more then, having now been justified by His blood, we will be saved from the wrath of God through Him." (Romans 5:8,9)

Saved from the God's wrath? The wrath that I'd feared all of my life? It was too good to be true, and amazing in its implications. For if Jesus died for my sins, then I was a sinner who needed salvation. If Jesus died on the cross and rose from the grave, then He was the holy Son of God, because only God could rise from the dead. And -- best of all -- if Jesus saved me, then I did not have to try to save myself. As the Scriptures say: "For it is by grace that you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves. It is the gift of God, and not of works, lest any man should boast." (Ephesians 2:8,9)

I saw the Jesus film many times. I was amazed at His miracles and moved to see Him suffer the most disgraceful punishment on the cross for me. Here was the holy Son of God, without sin yet dying to pay for my sins. Before becoming a Christian, I believed in Jesus as a prophet. But once I began to listen to the teachers, read the Bible, and ask God for understanding, the truth became clear: Jesus is the only Savior.

I also learned that God doesn't want slaves -- He wants sons. Slaves are driven by fear and their lives depend on the whim of their master. The best that a slave can hope for is survival. So it was with my relationship to God before I learned more about Him in the Bible.

I learned that God loves like a Father. He loved us so much that He sent Jesus. When a man believes in Jesus as his Savior, he has access to God as his Father and he is called a "son of God." (Ephesians 1:5). I learned that God thinks about me constantly, as a father thinks about his son. (Psalm 139:17,18) The Bible says, "I will be a father to you, and you shall be my sons and daughters, says the Lord Almighty." (2 Corinthians 6:18) God grieves when his children grieve and rejoices when they rejoice. When His children sin, God doesn't condemn them; He is compassionate and gracious, and He always forgives them, when they ask (I John 1:9, Psalm 103:8, Psalm 103:10-13).

As God's son, I can tell Him all of my problems and concerns. He listens and cares. He knows me and has engraved my name upon his hand (Isaiah 49:16). He even knows how many hairs are on my head! (Luke 12:7) "Cast all your anxieties on him,' says the Injil, "Because He cares for you." (I Peter 5:7). As a son asks his father for necessities and even blessings, I can ask my Father God to supply my needs. "How much more will your Father who is in Heaven give good things to those who ask Him." (Matt. 7:11)

I learned about the Holy Trinity, too - God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit -- how each is holy and how they work together in a Christian's life. I learned that when a man believes in Jesus as his Savior, God's Holy Spirit comes into his life, giving him faith, hope, love, joy and peace. I also learned that if a man believes in Jesus as his Savior, he will live in Heaven with Him forever. "For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son, that whoever believes in Him will not die, but will have eternal life." (John 3:16)

Soon, I believed in Jesus and asked him to save me. Since then, God has given me a new life. Knowing that God loves me, that Jesus saved me from my sins, and that God's Holy Spirit lives within me has replaced my old fear and pessimism with peace and optimism. He has given me mercy and compassion for people, even for my enemies. I have joy for the present and hope for the future. I am no longer a slave, but a son of the living God.

Now I am not afraid to face the Day of Reckoning. By believing that Jesus saved me, my name is now written in another book: the Book of Life (Mal. 3:16-18, Daniel 12:1). The other book, the one I was so afraid of confronting on the Day of Reckoning, no longer frightens me because my every wrong deed has been pardoned by Jesus. My debt has been paid by His death and resurrection. "Rejoice that your names are recorded in Heaven," says the Injil. (Luke 10:20).

I rejoice that my name is written there. Your name will appear in one of those books, too. Which book will you choose?

Finally, a Purpose!

Into this universe, and why not knowing, nor whence, like water willy-nilly flowing:
and out of it, as wind along the waste, I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.
- Omar Khayam, Rubaiyyat"

As a boy in Iran, I dreamt big. I grew up in a military base, where my father served as an officer in the Iranian Army. Ours was an orderly life, filled with predictable days and practical goals. I was a good kid and I did what was expected of me. I was also ambitious and saw everything as a great adventure. I loved to run through the fields and race through the soldiers' obstacle courses; a small warrior conquering imaginary enemies.

But as I grew up I became restless. I felt confined in that military base and my dreams spilled over the walls. Alone at night, I dreamt of leaving Iran and of traveling to faraway countries. I also dreamt of victory, of freedom, and of great experiences of many types. But beneath these goals was a deeper dream: to find my purpose. I thought that I could achieve this through escape and success, so I was driven by my dream and determined to make it real.

Every dream requires a first step, and my first step was to go to university. I graduated with a degree in English, then taught in Tehran. Soon I'd saved enough money to take another step toward my dream: leaving Iran. After four failed attempts, I finally crossed the border into Turkey. I headed to Istanbul, found a job, and met other Iranians who also dreamt of going west. We were young, energetic and confident. Together, we planned our escape to Greece.

Going to Greece was a dream but the journey was a nightmare. We took a boat and then walked for a week, growing wearier every day from the cold and hunger. En route, we were falsely accused us of goat stealing and I used most of my money to pay off the accuser. Finally, we stumbled into Athens, rented a room in Omonia, and set off to find work.

Slowly, each of us found jobs and settled down. I didn't like being in Athens, though, so I kept myself busy by working, learning English and saving money to buy fake passports. Armed with these, I was free to leave Greece. I bought the passports but needed money for tickets, so I continued working. But I couldn't save money. I was getting discouraged and felt that my dream was fading. What did the future hold? Would I be a refugee in Athens forever?

During this time, a friend invited me to a Christian church. Having nothing better to do, I went. I didn't know much about Christianity, but like most Muslims, I'd heard that Jesus was a prophet. To me, He was a myth, like Ali Baba.

But as I walked into the church, I could see that the Christians had a very different idea. To them He was real, and He was everything. I watched, amazed, as they praised Him joyfully and prayed to Him lovingly. They seemed to know Him as a friend, and yet they spoke of Him as God. Several told how Jesus had saved them and had given their lives a purpose. They called Jesus their Savior and their Lord.

Their Savior? I didn't understand why these people needed to be saved or how a myth could give them purpose. To me, the Christians' dependence on Jesus was a weakness and their enthusiasm was foolish. I looked down on their naiveté.

But then something happened that melted my defenses: the pastor began to speak. He spoke of God in a way I had never heard. And he spoke of Him so passionately and pragmatically that I wanted to hear more.

First, the pastor said that God loves us. He read from the Injil, "God so loved the world that He gave His only son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not die but will have eternal life." (John 3:16) The pastor said that one of the names for God is "Abba", the Hebrew word that small children use to address their fathers. He said that God loves His children more tenderly than the most attentive father on earth.

He said that God is a good father who wants to give His children a wonderful life. He read from the Injil: "I came that they might have life, and might have it abundantly," (John 10:10). Like a good father, God has a plan for His children. "For I know the plans that I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for good and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope." (Jeremiah 29:11) Furthermore, God loves us so much that He offers us the gift of spending Eternity with Him in Heaven.

All of this seemed too good to be true. God loves me? God has good plans for my life? God wants to give me a future and a hope, and spend Eternity with me? I wanted to know more. If God loved me and had a plan for my life, how could I feel that love and find that purpose? How could I become the child of such a wonderful Father?
Perhaps, I thought, I had never known God's love and plan because I hadn't tried hard enough to please Him. Perhaps I could become His child by working harder or by living a perfect life.

Yes, said the pastor, perfection was necessary. But none of us can be perfect. Even if we follow religious rules, perform good deeds, fast, and go on pilgrimage, we still won't be holy. We are sinners, said the pastor, and our sin separates us from God. The Injil makes this clear: "For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God." (Romans 3:23); "As it is written, 'There is none righteous, not even one." (Romans 3:10); and "All our righteous deeds are like a filthy garment." (Isaiah 64:6).

I had never considered myself a sinner. In fact, I thought I was a good person. But if good deeds couldn't save me and make me right with God, what was the answer?

The answer, said the pastor, is Jesus. Jesus can save us because Jesus is more than a good prophet; Jesus is God's perfect Son. He died on the cross and rose from the dead to pay the debt for our sins. When Jesus was dying on the cross, his final word was "tetelestai", a Greek phrase meaning "the debt has been paid, the work is finished." If a person believes in Jesus, God forgives his sins, adopts him as His child, and promises him Heaven after death (I John 5:11-13).

When the pastor finished speaking, he invited us to pray. I didn't pray. But the next week, I went back to that church. I arrived early and saw several young people kneeling in prayer. Suddenly, my spirit was moved and I burst into tears. I was so embarrassed that I ran into the bathroom to hide.

As I wept, my vision cleared and I felt as though a veil had been lifted from my eyes. I knew then that God loved me, and that I needed Jesus. I knew then that I could spend the rest of my life running from country to country in search of purpose and peace, but that only Jesus could make my dream real. I prayed and told Jesus everything, and then asked Him to be my Lord and my Savior.

Since then, God has given me my deepest desire: great peace, and a purpose higher than any I could have imagined. I know that because of Jesus, I am God's child and my sins are forgiven. I was restless and afraid for my future, but now I know that God is leading me. I may not get everything I want, but God will give me everything I need. I now have the greatest purpose on earth: the privilege of serving my Savior and God. And when I die, I will see Him face-to-face and spend Eternity with Him. Now that is an adventure.

I traveled the world and finally found my home in Jesus. When I doubted my fate, God had a purpose behind every step of my refugee journey. I believe that God called me to travel west, to come to Athens, to attend the Christian church, to hear about Jesus and to believe in Him.

Before I knew God, He knew me and loved me. Before I heard Him, He was calling me.

I believe that He is calling you, too. Will you answer?