As the disheveled woman approached me in the parked car, I could tell she was distressed.
“Do you know of a shelter or safe house for women here?” she asked me.
“No, I don’t,” I responded. “Are you OK?”
Her name was Zayda, and she was married to an abusive alcoholic. That explained her bruised face. After last night’s beating, she had decided to run away. Now she was looking for food, shelter, and safety.
My husband and our young children had returned to the car after shopping in the nearby market. After a brief discussion, my husband and I agreed to bring Zayda to our home to help her.
“This is a lost child of God,” I explained to our children. “We need to help her find her Daddy.”
After showering and resting, Zayda joined me in the kitchen where I was preparing dinner. Quietly she came to my side and removed three simple golden rings from her hand.
“This is all I have,” she said, beginning to cry. “Please take them. I thank you, my sister, for all you are doing for me!”
“I can’t take these valuable possessions from you,” I said. “I’m not doing this for payment. It’s for the One who loves you madly!”
Zayda furrowed her brow. “Who loves me?”
“Our Father loves you,” I replied. Then I told her my testimony, of how God had found me when I was broken and lost, and how He had redeemed me. My husband joined us in the kitchen and shared his own testimony. Zayda soaked in every word. Between sobs of wonder, her face glowed with the thought of God’s great love for her.
I opened up a Bible in her language and began to read about the woman at the well who had lived a life of shame. Jesus had treated the woman so gently and so lovingly. Zayda wept as she imagined Jesus treating her with such dignity. Late into the evening we talked, and the Spirit continued opeing her eyes and heart to the Savior.
“This Jesus is lovely,” Zayda said between sobs.
She asked me if she could have a Bible, and when I handed it to her she kissed it and held it close to her heart, tears streaming down her face. “Go ahead,” I encouraged her. “Read it!” Smiling, she shook her head and said she couldn’t—she didn’t know how to read. But she promised to take it and find someone who could.
Early in the morning, Zayda gathered her few belongings to go to her family’s village two hours away. I packed some food for her and gave her enough money for the bus fare. As she said goodbye, her face radiated peace and joy.
Back at home, our family gathered to pray for her. But then, something glimmered on the bookshelf, catching my eye. Zayda’s three golden rings. She’d left us her most costly possessions, but had walked away with something so much more valuable.
A few days later Zayda called me from her village. She was staying with a relative and was telling all her family members and friends about Jesus.
“Please come visit and tell us more about Christ,” she said. Everyone she knew in the village was illiterate, and they were eager for someone to come and share the Bible with them.
We’ve already visited the village several times, and we’re searching for an audio Bible in their language so they can listen to the Word in between our visits.
Jesus told the woman at the well that He was the Messiah—and she believed Him. Returning to her village, the woman told everyone about Him, and many came to believe (John 4:39).
Pray that Zayda continues to be drawn into faith in Jesus and that through her testimony, many more will come to faith.
A new field worker’s stereotypes are burst once she meets colorful, gregarious Muslim women in real life. Read about her startling discoveries by clicking the button below.
**This account comes from a long-term worker. Names have been changed for security.**
Original article: www.frontiersusa.org/blog/article/three-golden-rings
