Editor's Note: A woman from a Muslim background who takes part in a program for domestic violence and trafficking victims tells her story of encountering Jesus.
Would you recognize Jesus if you saw Him?
One evening after living for four months in [name protected], I woke up in the middle of the night for no reason. I wandered down to the living room. In the corner I suddenly saw a man standing by the stove.
At first I was terrified. How did he get into the house? Did I leave the window open? But he was wearing a white robe that was more brilliant than snow, which was moving though there was no breeze. He said, "Hajde" (come). Then he said to me, "You can't go down two roads."
Then he disappeared, leaving me to spend the rest of the night wondering about what I had seen.
In the morning I told my caregiver, who is also a Muslim, about the man I saw. Immediately she told me, "It was Jesus!" I was stunned. I was humbled. Why would Jesus show Himself to me? Afterward I told the other workers, who are Christians, and they agreed that it was Jesus.
"If I'd known it was Jesus, I would have talked to Him more!" I exclaimed. But truly, I could not stop glowing inside. Jesus came to me. Jesus told me to come to Him.
That afternoon I sat on the couches in the living room, and one of the Christian workers opened the Bible to me and showed me where Jesus said He is the way, the truth and the life. She explained that we are either on the path to Jesus or our own path to death.
Another worker joined us and shared that when Jesus is knocking on the door of our hearts, we have a choice to open up the door and accept Him or not.
All I knew at that moment was that I wanted to accept Jesus as my Lord more than anything. I had to respond to Him. I asked them, "How can I accept Jesus?"
They just smiled and led me in prayer for Jesus' salvation in my life.
Afterward we went upstairs for our art therapy session, and I drew a picture of Jesus and wrote above it, "Jesus is my Lord." I knew it was true, and immediately I shared it with the other workers and then my family.
My parents and siblings already knew that I was learning about Jesus from the program staff. When we visited my father, my 4-year-old son asked him as we sat down to lunch, "Grandpa, aren't you going to pray before we eat?" My father certainly had a shock, hearing about the habits we were learning at our program.
In my first few months in the program, my former husband's family attacked two of my siblings on two different occasions—my brother and sister. I was terrified for their safety, but in both cases, their lives were spared. I knew it was God who protected them and nothing else. We had prayed to God for their safety, and He had answered.
But God answered my unspoken prayers in other ways. When I arrived with my three children, all of us were still fragile from the abuse of my husband and our transitional time in a local shelter. I could not even read or write, since I never had the chance to go to school. Now I am just bursting with all the things I am learning, from reading and writing to math to sewing my own dresses and purses to support my family.
Even bigger than all those things, how could I have known that when I came to this house, I would meet Jesus?
How could I have imagined that He was waiting to meet me?