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 Pray for the People of Afghanistan - Journal of an American follower of Christ living among the Afghans...
Miss Poise Walking down a deserted, dusty street in the early morning hours, I suddenly found myself on a collision course with a veiled woman who had just stepped off the bus -- awkward… for a foreign man, that is. Keep your head down. Don’t look at her. Don’t speak. I slowed my pace to avoid walking shoulder to shoulder. She turned only slightly, but kept her course. From five paces behind I watched the shiny high heels, the powder blue burqa flowing in spotless pleats, the squared shoulders. Suddenly, in a well-practiced move, so fast that I almost missed it, the burqa came whipping off, twirled around her forearm, stripped off into a leather shoulder bag, and replaced by an expensive black lace headscarf! Five seconds -- no, three! She turned into the gate of a large school compound, obviously the principal, in her tight-fitting black suit -- immaculate poise, total self-confidence; the quintessential Afghan professional, oblivious to the stunned foreigner who followed. |
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Pray for the People of Afghanistan - Journal of an American follower of Christ living among the Afghans... A Sobering Question
Walking along the street one day, I heard the gravel crunch behind me. I turned to see a school boy jump off his bike to walk alongside and try out his English. I love these encounters. Besides being a bit of an ego trip, there is sometimes a door for witness. “What is your name? How long are you living in Kabul? Do you like my country? Can you speak our language?” He was trying all of his model sentences on me. Pretty good English. Then came the punch line: “And what do you want to be when you grow up?” He got me there. I think I said, “I want to be just like you.” He smiled and rode off. I really laughed, then spent the next several blocks in sober thought. What do I want to be when I grow up? Better than I am now, that’s what -- more loving, kinder, a better servant; a better listener, a better witness; totally honest, a better husband, full of integrity, healthier in body, mind and spirit. I also want another chance to meet that boy to tell him that I’m on a journey with a Friend who loves me and is helping me to grow up to be a special person -- and that my Friend can be his friend, too. In the meantime, I’ve got some growing up to work on. |
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Pray for the People of Afghanistan - Journal of an American follower of Christ living among the Afghans... Begging to be Converted
It happened twice in one week: young men walking up to me in the bazaar and asking to be converted (in so many words, that is). It’s not really recanting since most never canted in the first place. Nominal Muslims. This time my wife was with me. The fellow was on a bike; probably a university student; and he attempted to make his request in English. “be a Christian” is all I picked up.
It often happens during Ramadan, a month of forced fasting for all Muslims, the devout and the not-so-devout. Fasting is hard enough if your heart’s in it, but when you’re trapped in a prescribed practice of a prescribed religion, it’s hell. “Find a way out. Get a visa to the West. Change religions. Do something! Hey, there’s a foreigner. Ask him.” I took him aside. “Why do you want to change? Do your parents know about this?” He didn’t answer. I told him that God loved him and wanted to forgive his sins, but that Christianity wasn’t really a cake walk either. “If you are simply looking for a religion that is more user friendly than Islam, you will probably be disappointed.” He rode off. QUESTION: What would you have done? |
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