A few months ago, a friend sent me the phone number of a new Muslim-background believer who lived several hours away. Samer knew few followers of Jesus and was eager for fellowship. Extra security checkpoints, lockdowns, and curfews due to a regional conflict made it nearly impossible to visit him, but I had the necessary credentials to make the trip.

Samer and I planned to meet during Ramadan, an especially discouraging time for believers in this region. But at the last minute, he canceled. “I can’t get away from my family.”

Shortly thereafter, the unrest continued to intensify. Ongoing violence in the streets made the journey to see him even more difficult. For Samer, daily life was downright dangerous.

Instead of rescheduling our in-person visit, we began speaking regularly on the phone through a secure app. Samer was always excited to talk about Jesus and asked many questions about the Word.

One day, he mentioned his family’s growing hostility toward his faith. I’d known his family wasn’t happy that he was following Jesus, but the discouragement in his voice shook me.

Samer not only wanted connection, he was desperate for it. Reaching a meet-up point might not be safe, but we had to try.

Before I left, my wife and Frontiers teammates prayed over me and my travels. I arrived without incident; however, Samer’s 4-hour trip turned into a 7-hour ordeal rife with detours and delays.

I parked on the side of a quiet road a few blocks from where we had agreed to meet up. When Samer texted that he’d finally arrived, I drove to the location, searching the street for a face that matched the only digital picture I’d seen.

I spotted someone that fit his description, and Samer yanked open the door of my minivan and hopped inside before I could come to a complete stop.

“Praise God!” His smile stretched from ear to ear as he buckled his seat belt. “It is so good to meet with you, my brother.”

He spoke in a rush, making the most of our time before the government curfew would require us each to return home. I was impressed with his gratitude and eagerness to learn. He also shared more about the struggles with his family.

“My father wants me to marry a Muslim girl, but I can’t. She doesn’t know Jesus.” Samer lowered his head. “I’m going to tell him Friday at dinner. He’ll be angry.”

When I asked if I could pray for him, he nodded quickly. I rested my hand on his shoulder as I asked God for His peace and protection to cover my friend. The simple gesture seemed to mean as much to him as the words I spoke, but all too soon, I had to let go. It was time to leave.

As Samer sent me updates throughout the following week, I tried to encourage him with Scripture. I didn’t expect to hear from him Friday during his family obligations, so when the phone rang that evening, I was pleasantly surprised.

“Hey, Samer. How’s it going?”

He responded in a hushed tone I couldn’t understand.

“What? Can you speak up.”

“I have to be quiet,” he whispered, his voice edged in panic. “My father locked me in the basement. He said I must stay here until I change my mind about the marriage. But I won’t. I can’t.”

As the seriousness of the situation sank in, my whole body tensed. I searched for words of comfort, but they eluded me.

When I silently asked God for help, I sensed the Lord warning me not to project any anxiety into the conversation. Instead, I asked, “Can you feel the Lord’s presence?”

“Y-yes.” His breathing slowed to a more normal rate. “Yes. Jesus is with me now. He knows my struggle. He endured worse out of His great love for me. I must remember that. Thank you for the reminder.”

I asked him if we could continue talking, and once it was clear his family wasn’t listening, we shared Bible verses and prayed together. I was amazed at how Samer’s faith had deepened.

Later that evening, Samer sent me a message telling me he’d been released. My relief didn’t last long.

Every message I sent him the next day went unanswered and unseen. Had his phone been taken away? Was he back in the basement? Had something worse happened?

Over the next several weeks, my wife Annie and I continued praying for Samer. I reached out to him daily but never heard back. One night, my phone pinged. It was him.

My eyes widened as I read and reread his text. “Samer’s in the hospital,” I whispered.

Annie leaned closer. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“His parents are forcing him to clean and prepare corpses for burial.” My stomach curdled at the thought. “He’s barely eaten. He collapsed.”

Annie shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why would they do that?”

I showed her the rest of the message. “They want him to dread death. They don’t think he properly fears God anymore, and they’re worried his new faith will bring shame to their family.”

“They also think they’re helping him, don’t they?” Annie asked.

I nodded slowly. Samer’s parents loved him and wanted good for him. They just didn’t understand that the best thing in his life was Jesus.

Tears welled in Annie’s eyes. “I wish we could do something.”

The only solution I could think of was another visit. “I need to see him. As soon as he’s well enough, I’ll go.”

Concern lined Annie’s forehead. “The trip will be more dangerous than last time. Samer’s family might know about you. They could follow him and—”

“We’ll be careful. I promise.” I couldn’t offer any more reassurance than that, but I believed the Lord wanted me to go. Caring for my brother in Christ was worth the risk.

A few weeks later, I once again entered Samer’s region. Apprehension hummed beneath my skin the whole drive there. Still, what I worried about most was how Samer might’ve changed.

We hadn’t spoken much while Samer recovered. Had his experiences hardened him?

I anticipated pain and bitterness where gratitude had once dwelled. Fear in place of faith.

When he climbed into my van, I immediately noticed his face had thinned and bottom lip was slightly swollen. To my amazement though, his eyes sparkled with as much joy as the first time we met.

Confused, I scratched my head. “Did I miss a text? Has the situation with your family improved?”

Samer hesitated before answering the question.

The challenges continued, but despite the hardships, he longed for his family to know the love and forgiveness of Christ.

“I’m not sure if I’ll stay or try to flee, but I won’t be afraid, no matter what God calls me to.” He smiled. “When I was in the hospital, Jesus visited me in a dream. He confirmed what we talked about that day I was stuck in the basement. Christ knows my suffering and is always with me. I can face anything because I never have to face it alone.”

Pray:

• Praise God for new Muslim-background believers who are boldly following Jesus in the face of persecution.
• Pray that God will soften the hearts of Samer’s family and lead them to repentance and faith in Christ.
• Ask God to comfort Muslim-background believers who are alone in their faith, reminding them of His constant presence.

**This account comes from a long-term worker. Names and places have been changed for security.**

Main photo on iStock: busra İspir

Original article: https://frontiersusa.org/blog/never-alone/