I have just returned from an amazing conference in the far East! There were approximately 1000 people present. The most gripping moment was the simple testimony of a little woman (non-white), serving in what may be Central Asia’s dirtiest, darkest and most dangerous country. Dressed in the garb of a village Muslim woman (for security, only eyes showing), she told of a few converts who had believed, despite the cost. One day a friend and fellow worker wept, asking God how these people would ever know He loved them. Shortly thereafter, she and her family were martyred. This little woman was warned her family was next on this list, so she prayed: “God, if that’s your will, we are also willing to die.” One daughter (age 14) said, “Mom, we can’t leave; my best friend has not yet accepted Jesus.” It was a family decision to stay. She was on her way back and asked for more workers. Seven young people got up from their seats and went forward (5 women, 2 men)—all from the same city. By now many (myself included) were in tears.
All press is good press. Perhaps not always true, it is often a maxim of politics. A day after the backlash over his ‘a Muslim should not be president’ comment, Ben Carson announced windfall fundraising of one million dollars.
But perhaps it is also a maxim of religion? With the name of Islam dragged through the mud of Republican politicking and right-wing punditry, the Council for American-Islamic Relations (CAIR) seized the media spotlight and announced a campaign to freely distribute the Quran to citizens and civic leaders alike.
Back in 2001, CAIR chairman Nihad Awad reported that 34,000 Americans converted to Islam after the attacks of September 11.
It is a very natural phenomena. Media loves a negative story, which draws attention to an otherwise obscure issue. People begin to investigate, and discover the issue is not as completely negative as first reported, or stems from an extreme fringe. Then the counter-narrative emerges, in which the issue is hailed as good, or at least complicated. Conflicted over the original outrage, a moderating tone enters the issue into the mainstream.
From here, the politicking – or proselytizing – continues with precious momentum.
Islam is a religion, an idea, a way of life. Let it be praised or criticized according to its merits. But the better way is to do so with respect, humility, and hope. Muslims around the world deserve honest assessment of their faith. Whether of its religious, social, or political aspects, Christians should speak.
But Muslims in America deserve much more from their Christian neighbors. The better way is to bless, rather than demonize. To secure rights, rather than restrict them. To speak up in their defense, rather than rally a political base.
Conservative American evangelicals should be the first to depoliticize this issue entirely.
What this argument lacks is sufficient consideration of the proper place of denunciation. There is truth that is opposed to error. There are valid interests opposed to vile manipulations. There are Muslims in America and the world with political agendas to match any lobby from the right or the left.
There is a place for religion in politics. But great care should be taken against the politicization of religion. America has navigated this minefield for centuries, and Islam provides a particular challenge.
“But no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States,” says the constitution. Let American citizens vote as they wish, from any, all, or no religious motivation.
But let American Christians both engage and transcend the politics of the day to embrace a kingdom greater than the republic. Their obligation is to help all participate in both.
After many years, I am finally sharing some of my story of why I think it took me so long to leave Islam and become a Christian. I am sure that I focus on some things and fail to see some of my own personal failures, pride and otherwise, that contributed to the timing of my conversion. I pray that you give me a break and read it as a Christian who was, is, and most likely will always be a mess—getting some points and missing larger more fundamental points.
So, what took me so long to declare myself a Christian after years of being a Muslim? Of course, there were my own intrinsic weaknesses and faults, but I would be hiding the truth from you if I didn’t acknowledge that one major factor in keeping me away from living the truth was Christians. I lived in the buckle of the Bible belt and was surrounded by congenital Christians—people who read their Bible, faithfully attend church, could craft an elegantly worded prayer, and knew by heart the words of more than ten hymns. It was these same Christians who baffled me because they told me that God was love; that Jesus called them to love all people, including their enemies; and yet I just didn’t seem to see the love.
What I experienced in my life on the buckle was hateful words directed toward gays, liberals, Muslims, Catholics, and the list just seem to grow more and more. I also experienced being on that list and was the recipient on more than one occasion of those hateful words. It just didn’t add up. What did add up was that I knew that I didn’t want to have anything to do with those Christians. The problem was that they were unavoidable. In life on the belt buckle, they surrounded me in Walmart, the Dairy Queen, college classes, sitting around me in the DMV, the doctor’s office, just about everywhere. As soon as they heard that I was a Muslim, out came the Bibles that were used as a weapon against me, my beliefs, and the ones I loved. When that tactic didn’t work, I was either labelled as deceived by Satan or just ignored, cut out of their lives. The latter was the most common occurrence.
The wild reality was that inwardly I loved Jesus and had come to believe that He was not only the Lord and Savior, but He was my Lord and Savior. I just couldn’t stand being around Christians. I will never forget one interaction with a Christian who told me what I believed as a Muslim and when I responded that I didn’t believe that, he said that I was practicing taqiyyah (a form of planned lie). Unfortunately, I got angry and told him that if he wanted to know what taqiyyah really was he might look at Christian missionaries who lie about why they travel to Muslim populated countries and live there. Instead of saying that they were professionals hired to convert Muslims, they said things like they were helping build the infrastructure. While it wasn’t a total lie, it was what my Roman Catholic friends called, lying by omission. That scene didn’t go very well. It was not one my proudest moments, but hey.
This Ramadan Prayer Guide gives thirty days of instruction in four different ways for Christians reaching out to Muslims: First, some basic information on Islam; Second, a focus for prayer; Third, a Bible passage to meditate upon; Fourth, a suggested question to begin a conversation with a Muslim friend…