Middle East: Hamdulillah

Blog Series: Middle East

A look back at the journey God took me on and urged me to write about while I was there.

Jan 17

As I sit here in the cold living room listening to the call to prayer go off at noon, yet again, I can't help but be reminded of the hurt and pain this religion has stemmed from. From the time Muhammad started seeking for his identity, for a way to change the world, for a way to run from the pain of being orphaned in a culture that considers you as dirt without a family name... I can't help but be saddened by the reality of this religion-- the hopelessness that it holds inside; the holes it leaves in followers' hearts as they seek to fit into a culture where identity is everything. Yet, what is a Muslims' identity? Identity in being a Muslim, and that is that? What does that mean to them? I've seen the eyes of those who are still seeking for something more. Seeking for a place of their own in this world. I see the pain and hurt of their lives in between the fabric of the burka that lays over their face. Hiding. Hiding their pain and their beauty, all in one... yet having so much life at the same time. A life hidden. A life suppressed. Oppressed.

The call to prayer continues. 

It gives me a deep sense of darkness, and yet hope as well. The sun shines in the room. Hope because it lives in me. The hope I hold in Christ is all I can hold onto in a land that is not my own. A place where people stare, whistle and wonder... wondering why I am immersed in their culture and why I have come. Little do they know, nor do I know, how much hope is hidden within me. Yet, it isn't me at all. I guess you don't realize how much joy you truly have inside until you come to a place where you see it being completely ripped from those who have no identity in Christ. A place full of lies, fear, and misunderstanding. A place rejected and torn.

Torn hearts.  Torn families.

Yet, as the call to prayer continues, the sun still stands and shines on this land. A glimmer of hope. A lightness in the midst of heaviness. I breathe again. I hope again. I pray for this land and I see light over it and in it and through the eyes of those who have found hope; who've found refuge in a man. A man they call Isa. Who I've also come to know as Isa; Jesus. Our Messiah. Our savior. Our God who came to unite us all no matter what we call ourselves or how we translate His name.

I see unity and reconciliation, and He is glorious. Hamdulillah.


*Humdulillah- Arabic for "Praise God".