Faith . . .
My friend fell in love with Jesus. That was a crime in his home land. When he arrived in the U.S. he prayed for two things. One, to start fresh. Two, that his wife would become a believer. She was disillusioned by religion and declared that she was now an atheist.
One day I met his wife. She was beautiful. She came to church to appease her husband. Over the next few weeks I had the chance to get to know her better. One day she came up to me after church. I don’t know if it’s possible for a mere human’s face to shine with glory, but hers radiated. She told me that she had become a follower of Christ.
Her husband stood beside her, his face just as filled with joy.
She worships all day long, he said. She’s so hungry for the Word. She has the Bible on her lap any time she has a moment.
Now that they are both believers they are both in danger if they return home. When my friends asks for prayer, it’s that his father’s faith will shine if death knocks at his door. It’s for friends and neighbors who are believers and suffer for that faith, because they are targets.
When I think about my friends’ stories, I imagine being in their shoes. They started over with no family around to help. They had to go back to the university for years, because their education was not accepted in their new country. They face prejudice from a neighbor or a stranger who has no idea how amazing they are or what they’ve endured, and who labels them as “different.”