This story happened in early 2005. I had organized a team of men for relief work following the December 26, 2004 tsunami. We spent almost 2 weeks working on several islands in a country that is almost 100% Muslim.
He stepped in front of me, blocking my path. I was prayer walking the tiny island in the Indian Ocean I would be on for the next few days.
“Hello!”
He spoke and then produced a smile as wide as his dark and wrinkled face. He appeared to be a gentle man and stood no more than five foot two. He wore only a blue plaid lungi, wrapped around his waist. He waited for my response.
“Hello!” I said.
He slapped his bare chest with his hand and said, “Ibrahim.”
I slapped mine and told him my name.
We had connected. We both smiled and continued to look at each other. He reached out, grabbed me by the hand and motioned for me to follow. I did. We walked a bit and he took me to his tiny cinder block hut, which was in a small walled compound. We walked through the hut and into an open area and he motioned for me to sit.
I sat in the makeshift chair, nothing more than a few cleverly welded metal tubes entwined with an old fishing net. He grabbed a machete, placed it between his teeth and deftly climbed the yard’s lone coconut palm. Ibrahim tossed down his harvest of two young coconuts and came down just as easily as he went up. Using his machete, he hacked a hole in the top of one of the coconuts and handed it to me to drink.
The first and last time I had ever tried fresh coconut had not ended well. Let’s just say it was a very liberating experience. I had a choice to make. I offered up a silent prayer for protection and began to sip. It tasted divine.
Ibrahim began to speak to me in his native tongue. I had no idea what he was saying, although I gathered he was asking me a question. I shrugged my shoulders and smiled, in an attempt to convey that I did not understand. He understood. He continued to talk, however, and so did I. We asked each other all kinds of questions and then laughed together each time we shrugged our sign of no comprehension. It was an incredibly pleasant afternoon.
As I stood to leave, Ibrahim took me by the hand again. He led me to a calendar hanging on the wall of his hut. He pointed to the date of that day and then to his watch. He saw that I understood. He then pointed to the next day and to his watch. He was asking me to come back the next day. I shook my head in understanding and knew that I had a date. Ibrahim and I met for a coconut each day for the next few days.
One afternoon, Ibrahim’s nephew was there. He spoke just enough English for me to learn some things about his uncle. Ibrahim was in his mid fifties, although he looked much older. He had worked on a fishing boat all of his life until he was forced to retire due to bad arthritis. He was a devout Muslim, who read the Arabic Koran every day. He did not understand Arabic but had learned how to read it as a child, just as every child does in his island nation that is almost 100% Muslim. I was the first Christian Ibrahim had ever met.
We were leaving the island the next day. I knew this would be my last afternoon with my good friend Ibrahim. I approached his hut and let myself in. Ibrahim was sitting on a stool with his legs crossed. He had a large copy of the Koran on his lap and he was reading it aloud. He saw me, smiled and continued with his reading. I sat in respect and listened.
As he read, I prayed that Allah would open his heart and reveal the truth of Isa al Masih. In my heart, I sensed the Spirit’s voice, “You tell him! Just tell him in English and believe that I can cause him to hear in his tongue.” I doubted. The Spirit persisted. I argued. The Spirit overcame. I knew what I had to do.
Ibrahim finished reading and he closed the Koran. He carefully wrapped it in a beautiful cloth and reverently placed it in a place of honor. He grabbed my hand and took me to the yard. He went through the same routine I had witnessed for several days and we sat to drink and enjoy each other’s company.
I began to speak. I said, “Ibrahim, I have something important I want to share with you.” He shook his head as if he understood. I then began to tell him about Isa al Masih. I shared the simple gospel of Allah’s korbani (sacrifice) of the perfect Lamb, Isa al Masih, for the sins of all humanity. He continued to shake his head as if he clearly understood everything I was saying. Part of me believed it was truly happening and part of me thought he was just going along because it was the polite thing to do.
I finished sharing by telling Ibrahim that I believed Allah had orchestrated our friendship. He shook his head in agreement and pointed to the sky saying, “Al-hamdulillah!” I shook his hand and walked away, thinking I would never see him again.
I have been thinking about this a lot recently. What really happened? Did Ibrahim truly understand what I was saying? Something in me wants to know. Something in me tells me I will never know, at least this side of Paradise. My thoughts on this have landed me in Hebrews, chapter 11, the faith chapter.
“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” Hebrews 11:1
“And without faith it is impossible to please God…” Hebrews 11:6
“These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised.” Hebrews 11:39
I think God regularly asks His followers to do things that do not make sense. I think He wants us to take risks and to do things even if we do not see the results. This is faith. This results in our learning to trust and to know God in all things, especially in those times when we cannot see. When we live by faith, it pleases God. When we trust Him to do what He says He will do, He is glorified. He is pleased. He is exalted. I think this is what God was seeking when He asked me to share the gospel with Ibrahim.
Did Ibrahim actually understand what I said that afternoon? Logic says no. Faith says yes. I am choosing to believe that Ibrahim heard and understood every word. My belief rests solely on the Spirit’s promise that Ibrahim would understand if I would simply speak out in faith.
As we stepped on the fishing boat to leave the next morning, I saw Ibrahim in the distance. He was walking toward us. I noticed he had two freshly cut coconuts in his hands and a smile on his face. He approached the boat and handed me the coconuts. We shook hands and said our goodbyes. As we pulled out of the jetty, I said in my heart, “Brother Ibrahim, I hope to see you again; if not in this life, in the next.”
Until ALL Have Heard,
EG
