Leslie and I are teammates who live in the heart of a conservative Muslim community. Before we moved here, this district had the country’s largest concentration of Muslims with no Gospel messengers living among them. It took over a year to find a home in the community. As two single women, Leslie and I needed a living arrangement that connected us to a local family.
Sharifa provided that connection. We live in a shared space with Sharifa and her family. Our simple room sits on the flat roof of the main house, and an exterior staircase connects our terrace to the shared courtyard below.
We have no running water, and there’s only one electrical outlet that we use for charging our cell phones. The roof leaks badly when it rains. It’s certainly rustic, but it’s home.
Sharifa didn’t open up to us at first. But her two precocious young boys immediately welcomed us into their lives. We started spending Friday afternoons with the family, eating lunch together and watching cartoons with the boys.
One afternoon, Sharifa dumped the toddler into my arms. “Eva,” she said, “watch him while I go out.” In that moment, I knew Leslie and I had become like family.
Sharifa often looks out for us, and sometimes she worries for us. One time she asked, “Aren’t you afraid here?”
“No,” I said. “We feel safe. You and your family watch out for us.”
“But, no,” she continued, “aren’t you afraid that bad people will find you and kill you for being Christians?”
Sharifa had heard us share the Gospel. But her whole life, she’d had been taught to live in fear. Just like everyone else in her community, she’d learned that God is uncaring and distant—that we are at the mercy of evil forces.
Very soon, Sharifa would discover for herself why we weren’t afraid of evil.
Click the button below to read about the surprising events that lead to Sharifa’s encounter with true hope.
Original article: https://www.frontiersusa.org/blog/article/theres-something-different
