Read this recently and it made me think of a sister in Christ who is going through a similar situation right now... Here is Munira’s story in her own words. Although there is freedom in Tajikistan, there is opposition from local Muslims. The spread of Islam is supported by Iranian propaganda and Afghani soldiers. The Tajiks who embrace Christianity experience the fiercest opposition from their families. That’s what I experienced when I was nineteen-years-old and received Jesus Christ as my Savior. At first I felt an overwhelming peace and immediate release from the bondage I had known trying to follow rules and duties of growing up in a strict Muslim family. After awhile the gravity of my decision hit me. I knew my family would not understand why I had turned away from Islam. I kept my faith private for six months by reading my Bible in secret and slipping away on Sundays to attend an underground church service. When my family announced that I had to be married in an arranged wedding, I proclaimed my faith in Christ. My grandfather immediately started to beat me. He stopped beating me after fifteen minutes only because he had an asthma attack. The beatings continued the next day by my father, a former soldier who had fought in Afghanistan. He locked me in my room saying, “You will never leave until you repent!” Over the next six months, mullahs (religious teachers) from the mosque visited me, praying and pressuring me to return to Islam, but I resisted. My father reached the breaking point and told me, “Munira, you have five minutes before I kill you. Who do you choose? Your family or Jesus?” I was so tired and so broken. I was down to my last ounce of faith. I said, “Jesus, my Savior.” For the next two hours my father, whom I loved so much, beat me. All I could do was sob and endure the strikes, all the time wondering how my family could hate me so much. My father then pushed me into our car. He threw a shawl into the back seat and announced that he was going to bury me alive. The only thing that stopped him was realizing that there were still two days left of Ramadan, the Islamic holy month in which Muslims are not allowed to sin. The next day I happened to hear the phone ring, and I picked it up. The caller, a Christian friend, whispered, “Munira, I will be waiting at the bus stop tomorrow. Meet me there.” Despite the terrible beatings, I did not want to leave my family. I loved them and wanted them to accept me and eventually accept Jesus. During the three weeks away from my family, Jesus’ faithfulness was revealed so much to me. After much prayer I knew that the time had come to reconcile with my beloved family. When I returned home, everyone rejoiced. Everyone, that is, except my father. His first words to me were, “I hate you. My daughter died three months ago. Get out.” I fell at his feet, crying as I hugged his legs. “My God told me to come back. I will never leave you. You can beat me and kill me, but I will stay with you.” My father broke down and hugged me. For the next nine months and uneasy truce existed. My family accepted my Christianity as long as I kept it private. I began working for a Christian organization whose leaders encouraged me to go to a Bible college in the United States. I was excited for the opportunity but desired my father’s blessing. When I asked him I covered my eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. Surprisingly he calmly asked, “Are you sure you want to follow this way?” When I said, “Yes,” he responded, “You do what you think is right.” Now that I have devoted myself to Bible classes and to learning more about Christ, I am hoping to return to Central Asia soon to minister to my Muslim brothers and sisters and share Christ’s love with them. -From “Forever Young: Living & Dying For Christ” by The Voice of the Martyrs
Posted on: Fri, 05 Jul 2013 08:57:45 +0000
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