Convert Story

[nafta]

Surfing on the net as always, I came accros this story and I thought I it would be nice to share it with you brothers/sisters. It is long, but take the time for it because its really touching and beautiful.

 

 

Getting to Know a Friend

 

By Yahiya Emerick

 

My best friend from childhood was a mixed Lebanese/Polish American boy. I met him when I was around ten years old. I knew he wasn’t a Christian because every year for a month he would do something he called "fasting Ramadan." All I remember was seeing him and his brothers lying all over the couches in their living room, looking like they were suffering, while outside the beach beckoned and play enticed. As we grew a little older we did things we thought were risky. One summer we began to sneak out of our houses after midnight and meet on a hillside overlooking a lake to talk about life, religion and what it all meant. Sometimes we would walk the roads in our subdivision and talk about the stars. It was an awe-inspiring practice that brought our friendship to a new level and evoked in us a sense of grandeur.

 

One night my father found that I wasn’t in my room and when I returned, I found him sitting on our front porch. I could tell it was him because I saw the faint glow of a cigarette ahead dimly in the darkness. I knew I was in trouble. He called my friends parents as well. The next day we both traded stories of how much beating we received. I guess our parents thought we were sneaking out to do drugs or something. Many youth in our community did so it was understandable. My father just didn’t listen when I told him that we were just walking, sitting, talking and musing over life. The late night excursions were abruptly halted.

 

The deep discussions with my friend did not, however, abate, but grew in intensity. He was by no means a righteous Muslim teen. He did all the things that any other teen growing up in America with little supervision did, but unlike his two younger brothers, and his own father, he had a greater interest in the concept of Islam, though he knew precious little about it. I, too, was something of an expert in nothing in particular, at least where religion was concerned. I went to church with my grandma for years. I attended innumerable Sunday schools classes, youth camps, prayer meetings, etc… But my simple Baptist dogma lacked force and applicability and I merely followed along as a good boy.

 

Eventually my friend and I began to discuss religion more thoughtfully. It wasn’t high level, by any means, for he was the only quarter-practicing Muslim in twenty miles and I was an average Christian with little Christian enthusiasm. It was fun, nonetheless, to compare ideas and what he said made me think, though I was sure I would win the arguments with a smug ‘my-dad-can-beat-up-your-dad’ kind of confidence.

 

High school came and went and my friend and I drifted apart a little as the new realities of life intruded themselves upon us. He went off into the up-and-coming world of computers and I followed my dream and went to a distant college to study Spanish, Tourism, Political Science or whatever my fancy of the moment was. I looked for religion on campus because though my Christian faith was not fervent, I did pay attention on church all those years and avoided a shameful way of life. I wanted to ‘fellowship’ with others who also shunned evil (rock music, drugs, alcohol, illicit relations, etc…).

 

While I was still settling in I got another taste of interfaith religious discussion. Campus preachers from the evangelical Marinatha organization stood outside of one particular college hall every Wednesday and drew great crowds with their fiery calls to Christ. Most of the students gathered in the wide circle listened politely, while a few just jeered and yelled. (I could never imagine someone insulting a worker for Christ!) But after a few weeks I noticed an older man, who looked like a professor, listening intently to the handsome young preacher, as he stood on a stone bench, crying about salvation and repentance. Then one day it happened: the evangelical made a statement about calling Jews to Christ as well and this old man virtually came to life. He walked into the center of the huge ring of perhaps eighty students and began tearing everything down that the preacher said.

 

He explained that he was a Jew and that Christians didn’t have the right to use ‘his tribal literature’ (i.e. the Old Testament) for their own interpretations and theology. The debate was fascinating with the old Jew disarming every Christ-centered point with a counter verse that the obviously startled preacher tried to posit. This then became a ritual every Wednesday. The preacher, who was joined by four or five other helpers to work the crowd, would begin talking and drawing a crowd of passersby and the Old Jew would come and harass him to no end. It was then that I finally realized that Christianity was not an invincible fortress, incapable of being shown to have weaknesses.

 

Well, I had to give that old-time religion another chance so I, strangely enough, went to talk to that preacher after his ‘show’ was over. He seemed nice enough and he invited me to come to one of his campus ministry meetings the next night. I agreed and as I walked away, the strangest feeling that I ever felt came over me. As I was passing under a tree my entire body went numb for a moment and I was literally racked with a heavy sensation. I couldn't’ move, literally. My chest caved in and my lungs felt as if they were wrapped in iron. I’ve never told anyone this part of my story but I still think about it. The moment passed almost as quickly as it came and I immediately took it as a sign that God was pleased with me.

 

The next night I went to the appropriate building and entered a huge lecture hall that the Christian students group had permission to use. I stood in the back for a second and surveyed the scene. Before me, on a stage below, was the preacher, joined by about twenty others, all about my age. Behind him was a band set up with guitars, drums- the works. I had an uneasy feeling immediately. I sat down in a back seat and watched as more students came in, male and female. I tried to remain hopeful and full of faith but my demeanor was shattered when the preacher began to ‘jam’ on the guitar. A moment later the band was in full rock and roll glory, the only difference was that they were saying ‘Jesus’ instead of the more usual rock music themes. The growing crowd of forty or more people gathered in front near the stage and were clapping and saying ‘hallelujah’.

 

The church I grew up in taught that this kind of music was from the devil and here was a Christian group trying to woo faith in its members by modifying a contemporary form of expression that it otherwise would have shunned. I felt disgusted and left. I later reinterpreted my physical ‘sign’ as a warning.

 

I took the opportunity of living away at school to broaden my horizons and I began to read oriental philosophy books. This was a natural offshoot of my interest in martial arts. I principally found the works of Lao-Tzu the most appealing and after a while I considered myself something of a Taoist. There was just something about that whole ‘wind in the trees’, ‘be like the great nothingness’ that sounded cool. Continuing my newfound spirit of exploration, I enrolled in a beginning Arabic course for no other reason than I thought it would be fun to say a few Arabic words to my friend’s dad when I returned home for the summer.

 

Well, it would become a life changing class for my eyes were opened to a whole new syntactic expression. I really felt as if learning to write Arabic, as difficult as it was, was making me smarter. I felt like a code breaker or something. The class was also full of Muslim immigrants and people sympathetic to Muslim culture. Not that it was a proselytizing class or anything. The instructor was obviously a disillusioned Muslims turned agnostic who thoughtfully questioned the validity of any universal truth in our frequent open class discussions. But the charm was in being able to learn about Islam, Arabs, Muslims and all of it in a completely neutral setting, with no pressure to convert. (The four or five Muslims present were by no means fervent believers.) I also saw diversity. There was a Pakistani, a couple of Arabs, a few Caucasian non-Muslims and a very dear Irish-Muslim who made me feel as if the world was truly much bigger than my white, suburban experience.

 

I returned home for Christmas break and was amazed to find my friend in a new frame of mind. He had recently become more serious about Islam in my absence, even as I began to drift further and further away from a mere habitual loyalty to Christianity. It wasn’t solely due to college that I fell out with the worship of Christ, however, for as early as the age of fifteen I felt uncomfortable with the teachings of my faith. I couldn’t understand how God could be a father and a son simultaneously or how Jesus could be God when he was obviously praying to God all the time in the Gospels. Anyway, my friend decided to share his newfound verve with me and he gave me a Qur’an to take back with me to college with the words, "Just read it with an open mind."

 

I took the Yusuf Ali translation with me when I returned and didn’t open it for over a month. Then one day, bored with the meaningless banter of my fellow dorm-mates, I opened the book and began reading in a random surah. I don’t remember which passage I was reading but I can tell you that I was immediately struck with awe and wonderment. The Qur’an was completely unlike what I had expected, indeed, it was unlike anything I thought about any religious book. Up until then my only experience had been with the Bible. It is a jumble of histories, biographies, songs, letters- quite a smorgasbord really. Reading it is like reading a novel or encyclopedia- it’s all third person stuff obviously written for different peoples with no coherent structure.

 

The Qur’an, however, was presenting itself to me as an essay, a letter addressed to me. The verses rang out with first and second person grammatical structures that addressed "O you people, if…," and "I am your Lord so worship Me." I wasn’t prepared for such a personal address and I felt a sudden kinship and tie to the Qur’an that kept me reading it, night after night for the next several weeks.

 

The questions began to stir in my mind: where did this book come from? Why haven’t I seen it before? That was when I really began a desire to know who Muhammad (p) was. I didn’t have any knowledge of him prior to my Qur’anic readings as he wasn’t really covered in my public school education so I had to literally learn how to properly use a reference book and the local college library. The first place I looked was in the front of the Yusuf Ali translation where he gave a moving, almost prosaic rendition of the story of his life. It was beautiful, though cryptic, for I was not yet versed in the worldview from which Muslim thought is originated. The library came next. Now that was an adventure in itself as I came face to face with the great debate about the validity, or impossibility, of Muhammad’s being a true Prophet of God. In the second part of this article I will let you know what I found, and it was really quite an amazing journey into the last five hundred years of Christian-Jewish-Muslim dialogue.

 

Getting to Know a Friend: My Introduction to Muhammad (p) Part 2

 

The Michigan State library is really quite a cavernous place. Set near the middle of the campus, it is an imposing structure of glass and stone that also includes several basements. The object of my search, the Islam section, was on one of the higher floors, thankfully. I remember passing the huge Judaica section and I almost missed the Islam selections altogether, so few books were there. At that time there were perhaps only enough books to fill up one and a half bookshelves and almost all of those books were bound in that drab green and blue covering that libraries frequently clothe books in to protect them.

 

Starting with general books on Islam, I picked a couple by Western authors and took them back to my dorm to read. The first book was by Watt and the second was by Arnold. Neither of them painted an overly flattering picture of the Prophet, though they didn’t seem overly critical either. I learned the basic story outline of Muhammad’s life and got a grasp for the type of world he lived in. The account of his life seemed pretty straightforward and the parameters of his environment rang slightly in my mind as almost Biblical. He lived in a harsh desert among heathen idol-worshippers. He shunned the immorality of his times and was rewarded later in life by being chosen by God to bring his people to monotheism. The seemingly insurmountable struggle against overwhelming forces and the sheer ignorance of the Bedouins is an epic in itself.

 

I found that my initial assumption, that Muhammad wrote the Qur’an himself, began to fade rather quickly. In fact, that notion was all but gone a few days after I first started reading the Qur’an. It just wasn’t the sort of book a person who had author-like tendencies would write. I had already read the Bible through and through, both the Jewish Old Testament and the Greek-Latin leaning New Testament, as well as several selections of Eastern religious writing and the Qur’an did not have anything in common with any of those types of writings. The Bible is essentially a third person narrative of events interspersed with personal reflections by the authors and an occasional song, poem or essay on one subject or another (usually concerning laws, Israel, philosophy or commentary on events that were current at the time of that particular passage’s writing. The Tao Te Ching, Chuang Tzu, the Sutras and other Buddhist/Taoist writings are basically high order philosophical conundrums to tease the brain. While the Ramayana and other Hindu scriptures are basically fantasy stories of gods and wars interspersed with oddball talk of nothingness and nirvana and such.

 

The Qur’an, I found was none of those, and after carefully considering where Muhammad lived, it became increasingly apparent to me that an illiterate in the desert doesn’t suddenly come up with such a book out of nowhere, a book that grew with him over 23 years and had such a tone about it as to make one feel that it was a higher being talking to you. Even the structure was quite unusual for me to explain as well. This is where the notion that the Qur’an is just a poor knock-off the Bible really gets dismissed. The Bible tells stories in chronological order and rarely gives any moral to the events. The Qur’an, on the other hand, rarely tells the complete story of an event in one place, but scatters episodes of it all over the place in different chapters to illustrate moral lessons. Extraneous details such as the names of everyone’s cousins, what the maid was wearing, who begat who to the thousandth degree and what size the grapes were are all thankfully absent with only the main events of each story told and their moral significance.

 

For example, I found that the story of Moses is contained in over a dozen chapters of the Qur’an, interspersed with other topics. In this way, the heart of each story is given just enough life to join with other parts of each chapter to render a completely unified moral imperative as the result of one complete essay. Looking at chapter 28 of the Qur’an, we find that the first 42 verses tell a basic outline of Moses’ life, but then a discussion of the significance of God’s revelation follows for the next few verses, moving over into times contemporary to Muhammad, asking why his tribe obstinately would reject such an important gift from God (i.e. guidance). Then objections from unbelievers are answered, followed by a snapshot of their fate on Judgment Day. An appeal is made to seek God’s forgiveness before a return is made to Moses’ story, this time centering on Korah (Qarun), one of Moses’ people who rejected faith in God. The chapter ends with a discussion of punishment and reward for our faith and actions concluding with a few words to Muhammad directly not to give up and to always serve the one true God.

 

Nearly every chapter in the Qur’an is set up this way. I remember reading a book by a Christian Evangelist, also taken from the same library, in which he accused the Qur’an of being disjointed and confused in its structure. After seeing the structure for myself I realized that that author must have been so used to the linear approach of the bible that he couldn’t appreciate the style employed in the Qur’an, a style I couldn’t find duplicated elsewhere, even in novels and memoir writing.

 

I still didn’t convert, however, because I didn’t know one could do such a thing easily. I still felt unconsciously that one had to be born into Islam and that’s just the way it was. Undaunted in my investigation, I continued to read and among the most fascinating books I borrowed were the hadith books, those books that contains Muhammad’s sayings. I thought it amazing that you had a revelation from God (the Qur’an) and a whole other corpus of teachings spoken from Muhammad’s own volition. The hadith provided a fascinating glimpse into the real world dealings of the Prophet. From simple sayings to entire conversations with others, one could read about Muhammad through his own life experiences. As a side note I also began to read about Muhammad’s companions, or Sahaba, many of who narrated their own biographies. Yet another angle allowed me to get to know this man further.

 

With Jesus, you only have the gospels. You don’t have any other writings, save for Acts, in which to read about Jesus for the early church banned hundreds of other biographies of Jesus, simply because those sometimes clashed with the Greek/Roman Trinitarian view. There was a Unitarian view prevalent in the Middle East, where Jesus lived, but the Greeks and Romans, under the influence of a converted Rabbi named Paul, turned the one God into a three-in-one God. Ironically enough, I already began to doubt the gospels when I was a teenager. You see, in my Baptist church read the Bible a lot. And I developed an image of Jesus, from reading the Gospels, that was different from God Al mighty. Jesus just wasn’t God to me and the Gospels never gave me that impression. Then, one day during the regular service, the pastor proclaimed proudly that Jesus is God. I was completely at a loss to fathom such a thing. Who was Jesus praying to all the time then, himself? Why would God have to die to forgive us? Couldn’t he do it otherwise? How could God spend three days in Hell? The Old Testament never spoke of a three-in-one God. If it were so important, wouldn’t it have been mentioned before? Although I remained a Christian all through my teens, I didn’t have as much loyalty to Christian theology after that.

 

Momentous change occurred when I signed up for the next level of Arabic classes, and also took a class on Islam. The professor was a non-Muslim academic who gave a dry presentation on Islam, mostly covering history, but it gave me the impression that my high school and junior high education was defective. Here was a whole world that I don’t ever remember being covered. Maybe it was sandwiched between the China and Japan units in sixth grade or something, but it seemed to me that I was not properly educated about a major world civilization. Meanwhile, in Arabic class, I began to make friends with a few of the people in there. One was an elderly Irish Muslim lady who told me of generations of Muslim Irishmen living in a small village in the countryside. Another man was an American student who was enamored of Middle Eastern culture, yet another was a foreign exchange student from I don’t remember where.

 

I began to ask questions about Islam to them, even to the professor, whom I knew didn’t follow it, just to see what he said. His answers were dry and lifeless. Someone must have hurt him in his life or something for him to be so bitter and dead inside. But the students I befriended were jovial, relaxed and level-headed. Nothing like the only images of Muslims I had seen heretofore on television during the Iranian hostage crisis.

 

After a while, I somehow began to feel like Islam was good for me. I continued to read books written by Muslims and non-Muslims and after balancing the arguments it seemed that Islam was reasonable and built upon a foundation I could believe in. Now, of course, one doesn’t convert to another religion just like that. In my readings I intentionally looked for anything I could to object to. Women’s rights, for example, popped up. I had heard that Muslims don’t treat women well. I couldn’t find anything in Islamic sources, however, to justify it, and I realized that if bad things do happen to Muslim women, it can’t be blamed on the religion. After all, how many women are beaten, raped, murdered, used and slandered by men with Christian names, all of it against Christianity?

 

It was about this time that I realized that there was a difference between what a religion says and what its followers do. The great parallel for me is today, where the whole world seems to be blaming Islam and Muslims for the World Trade Center, when the attack was the work of fifty guys at most whose main grievance is the Palestine issue and the U.S. army in Arabia. It’s like blaming Christianity for Timothy McVeigh, the Holocaust, the Inquisition, wiping out the American Indians, abortion bombers and so on. All the perpetrators are or were Christians, acting out of Christian motives, but were are the American leaders saying Christianity is a "vile" and "wicked" faith. Why aren’t the Jews waging war on Europe to this day for the Holocaust? Why aren’t they blaming all Christians for a thousand years of murder? That’s how upside down our world is and how ignorant Americans are of Islam and the Muslim world. A religion doesn’t attack another country, people do, and if it was only a small fanatical group, you don’t blame everybody, (but fundamentalist Christians and Zionists have taken this short-sighted opportunity to turn world opinion against all of Islam to "win souls for Christ" and expand Israeli control of the occupied territories.)

 

It was this new found sense of tolerance that I developed which allowed me to consider Islam with a truly open mind. Previously I had allegiance to Christianity, then I drifted towards Taoism, but by that time I considered myself without a religion, or vaguely a Christian at best. Muhammad seemed to fit the mold of a prophetic figure. He was kind whenever he could be and stern in the face of falsehood. He never taught people to worship idols and even his enemies testified to his nobility and honesty. He wasn’t a poet before but suddenly at the age of 40 he began to recite what he called revelations, words that are structured unlike any book I’ve ever read. He triumphed against odds that were nearly impossible to attain and he taught a noble and good way of life centering on prayer, fasting, reflection and good deeds. He also was undeterred in his belief that faith in the one God was the most important thing to have. Even the morals are of the highest standard.

 

What could I do? After about six months I asked the Irish Muslim lady about a mosque and she introduced me later to a Jordanian man who graciously agreed to take me to the Islamic Center of East Lansing. Of course, it was Friday, the busiest day of the week, so I was very scared when we went in. But the man, sensing my unease, took me into a side office and showed me how to perform the basic movements of the Muslim prayer known as Salah. It felt really weird at first to bow with my forehead on the ground, but it quickly seemed like such a natural and pure way to reverence the Creator.

 

Later, during the full prayer service, I felt a sense of awe, seeing hundreds of people sitting quietly on the floor, listening to a sermon that was thankfully in English. After the speech was finished the people lined up in even rows to pray in unison and I remember distinctly feeling like this was superior to sitting on comfortable cushions in church. During the prayer service itself. when the Muslims declared, Ameen, after the Imam recited the opening verses of the Qur’an, I was stirred to the roots of my soul. Such power, I thought, and it only comes after relinquishing all your will to God. I decided that night that I was a Muslim, or a person who surrenders their will to God. My journey for faith was over, and a new life with a new Prophet, a new friend, was just beginning.

[Macalin]

I AM........I dont have words to express my feelings right now

 

Thnx Nafta

[Warrior of Light]

May Allah increase him knowledge and imaan.

Thanx Nafta Jazakhallah kheir

[sweet_gal]

Beautiful convert story....

Mashallah.......May allah increase her knowlege in Isalm.

[nafta]

I'm glad you liked it, I've posted another one. Hope u like it too. Reading these stories makes you realise how truly beautiful our religion is.

 

The Introduction and Decision (Testimony of Aminah Assilmi)

 

I was completing a degree in Recreation, when I met my first Muslims. It was the first year that we had been able to pre-register by computer. I preregistered and went to Oklahoma to take care of some family business. The business took longer than expected, so I returned to school two weeks into the semester (too late to drop a course).

 

I wasn't worried about catching up my missed work. I was sitting at the top of my class, in my field. Even as a student, I was winning awards, in competition with professionals.

 

Now, you need to understand that while I was attending college and excelling, ran my own business, and had many close friends, I was extremely shy. My transcripts actually had me listed as severely reticent. I was very slow to get to know people and rarely spoke to anyone unless was forced to, or already knew them. The classes I was taking has to do administration and city planning, plus programming for children. Children were the only people I ever felt comfortable with.

 

Well, back to the story. The computer printout held one enormous surprise for me. I was registered for a Theatre class...a class were I would be required to perform in front of real live people. I was horrified! I could not even ask a question in class, how was I going to get on a stage in front of people? My husband was his usual very calm and sensible self. He suggested that I talk to the teacher, explain the problem, and arrange to paint scenery or sew costumes. The teacher agreed to try and find a way to help me out. So I went to class the following Tuesday.

 

When I entered the classroom, I received my second shock. The class was full of 'Arabs' and 'camel jockeys'. Well, I had never seen one but I had heard of them.

 

There was no way I was going to sit in a room full of dirty heathens! After all, you could catch some dreadful disease from those people. Everyone knew they were dirty, not to be trusted either. I shut the door and went home. (Now, there is one little thing you should know. I had on a pair of leather hot pants, a halter top, and a glass of wine in my hands...but they were the bad ones in my mind.)

 

When I told my husband about the Arabs in the class and that there was no way i was going back, he responded in his usual calm way. He reminded that I was always claiming that God had a reason for everything and maybe I should spend some time thinking about it before I made my final decision. He also reminded me that I had a scholars award that was paying my tuition and if I wanted to keep it, I would have to maintain my G.P.A.. Three credit hours or 'F' would have destroyed my chances.

 

For the next two days, I prayed for guidance. On Thursday I went back to the class convinced that God had put me there to save those poor ignorant heathens from the fires of hell.

 

I proceeded to explain to them how they would burn in the fires of hell for all eternity, if they did not accept Jesus as their personal savior. They were very polite, but did not convert. Then, I explained how Jesus loved them and had died on the cross to save them from their sins. All they had to do was accept him into their hearts. They were very polite, but still did not convert. So, I decided to read their own book to show them that Islam was a false religion and Mohammed was a false God.

 

One of the students gave me a copy of the Qur'an and another book about Islam, and I proceeded with my research. I was sure I would find the evidence I needed very quickly. Well, I read the Qur'an and the other book. Then I read another 15 books, Sahih Muslim and returned to the Qur'an. I was determined I would convert them! My studies continued for the next one and half years.

 

During that time, I started having a few problems with my husband. I was changing, just in little ways but enough to bother him. We used to go to the bar every Friday and Saturday, or to a party, and I no longer wanted to go. I was quieter and more distant. He was sure I was having an affair, so he kicked me out. I moved into an apartment with my children and continued my determined efforts to convert the Muslims to Christianity.

 

The, one day, there was a knock on my door. I opened the door and saw a man in a long white night gown with a red and white checkered table cloth on his head. He was accompanied by three men in pajamas. (It was the first time I had ever seen their cultural dress.) Well, I was more than a little offended by men showing up at my door in night clothes. What kind of a woman did they think I was? Had they no pride or dignity? Imagine my shock when the one wearing the table cloth said he understood I wanted to be a Muslim! I quickly informed him I did not want to be a Muslim. I was Christian. However, I did have a few questions. If he had the time....

 

His name was Abdul-Aziz Al-Shiek and he made the time. He was very patient and discussed every question with me. He never made me feel silly or that a question was ****** . He asked me if I believed there was only one God and I said yes. Then he asked if I believed Mohammed was His Messenger. Again I said yes. He told me that I was already a Muslim!.

 

I argued that I was Christian, I was just trying to understand Islam. (Inside I was thinking: I couldn't be a Muslim! I was American and white! What would my husband say? If I am Muslim, I will have to divorce my husband. My family would die!)

 

We continued talking. Later, he explained that attaining knowledge and understanding of spirituality was a little like climbing a ladder. If you climb a ladder and try to skip a few rungs, there was danger of falling. The Shahadah was just the first step on the ladder. Still we had to talk some more.

 

Later that afternoon, May 21, 1977 at Asr', I took Shahadah. However, there were still some things I could not accept and it was my nature to be completely truthful so i added a disclaimer. I said: "I bear witness that there is no god but God and Mohammed is His Messenger" 'but, I will never cover my hair and if my husband takes another wife, I will castrate him.'

 

I heard gasps from the other men in the room, but Abdul Aziz silenced them. Later I learned that he told the brothers never to discuss those two subjects with me. He was sure I would come to the correct understanding.

 

The Shahadah was indeed a solid footing on the ladder to spiritual knowledge and closeness to God. but it has been a slow climb. Abdul Aziz continued to visit me and answer my questions. May Allah reward him for his patience and tolerance. He never admonished me or acted like a question was ****** or silly. He treated each question with dignity and told me that the only ****** question was the one never asked. Hmmm...my grandmother used to say that.

 

He explained that Allah ahd told us to seek knowledge and questions were one of the ways to accomplish that. When he explained something, it was like watching a rose open - petal by petal, until it reached its full glory. When I told him that I did not agree with something and why, he always said I was correct up to a point. The he would show me how to look deeper and from different directions to reach a fuller understanding. Alhamdulillah!

 

Over the years, I had many teachers. Each one special, each one different. I am thankful for each one of them and the knowledge they gave. Each teacher helped me to grow and to love Islam more. As my knowledge increased, the changes in me became more apparent. Within the first year, I was wearing hijab. I have no idea when I started. It came naturally, with increased knowledge and understanding. In time I even came to to a proponent of polygamy. I knew that if Allah had allowed it, there had to be something good in it.

 

"Glorify the name of thy Guardian - Lord Most High, Who hath created, and further, given order and proportion; Who hath measured, and granted guidance; and Who bringeth out the (green and lush) pasture, and doth make it (but) swarthy stubble, By degrees shall We teach thee (The Message), so thou shalt not forget, except as Allah wills: for He knoweth what is manifest and what is hidden. And We will make it easy for thee (to follow) the simple (path)." (Al-A'la 87:1-8)

 

When I first started to study Islam, I did not expect to find anything that I needed or wanted in my personal life. Little did I know that Islam would change my life. No human could have ever convinced me that I would finally be at peace and overflowing with love and joy because of Islam.

 

This book spoke of THE ONE GOD, THE CREATOR OF THE UNIVERSE. It described the beautiful way in which He had organised the world. This wondrous Qur'an had all the answers. Allah is The Loving! Allah is the Source of Peace! Allah is the Protector! Allah is the Forgiver! Allah is the Provider! Allah is the maintainer! Allah is the Generous One! Allah is the Responsive! Allah is the Protecting Friend! Allah is the Expander!

 

"Have we not expanded thee thy breast? And removed from thee thy burden the which did gall thy back? And raised high the esteem (in which) thou (art held)? So, verily, with every difficulty, there is relief: Verily, with every difficulty there is relief!" (Al-Ishirah, 94: 1-6)

 

The Qur'an addressed all the issues of existence and showed a clear path to success. It was like a map forgiving, an owner manual for life!

 

How Islam changed my Life

 

"How much more we love the light...If once we lived in Darkness."

 

When I first embraced Islam, I really did not think it was going to affect my life very much. Islam did not just affect my life. It totally changed it.

 

Family life: My husband and I loved each other very deeply. That love for each other still exists. Still, when I started studying Islam, we started having some difficulties. He saw me changing and did not understand what was happening. Neither did I. But then, I did not even realise I was changing. He decided that the only thing that could make me change was another man. There was no way to make him understand what was changing me because I did not know.

 

After I realised that I was a Muslim, it did not help matters. After all...the only reason a woman changes something as fundamental as her religion is another man. He could not find evidence of this other man...but he had to exist. We ended up in a very ugly divorce. The courts determined that the unorthodox religion would be detrimental to the development of my children. So they were removed from my custody.

 

During the divorce, there was a time when I was told I could make a choice. I could renounce this religion and leave with my children, or renounce my children and leave with my religion. I was in shock. To me this was not a possible choice. If I renounce my Islam....I would be teaching my children how to be deceptive. For there was no way to deny what was in my heart. I could not deny Allah, not then, not ever. I prayed like I had never prayed before. After the thirty minutes was up, I knew that there was no safer place for my children to be than in the hands of Allah. If I denied him, there would be no way in the future to show my children the wonders of being with Allah. The courts were told that I would leave my children in the hands of Allah. This was not a rejection of my children!

 

I left the courts knowing that life without my babies would be very difficult. My heart bled, even though I knew, inside, I had done the right thing. I found solace in Ayat-Ul-Khursi.

 

"Allah! There is no god but He - the Living, the Self-subsisting, Supporter of all. No slumber can seize him nor sleep. His are all things in the heavens and on earth. Who is there can intercede in His presence except as He permitteth? He knoweth what (appeareth to His creatures as) Before or After or Behind them. Nor shall they compass aught of His knowledge except as He willeth. His Throne doth extend over the heavens and the earth, and he feeleth no fatigue in guarding and preserving them for He is Most High, The Supreme (in Glory)." (Al-Baqarah, 2:255)

 

This also got me started looking at all the attributes of Allah and discovering the beauty of each one.

 

Child custody and divorce were not the only problems I was to face. The rest of my family was not very accepting of my choice either. Most of the family refused to have anything to do with me. My mother was of the belief that it was just a phase and I would grow out of it. My sister, the 'mental health expert' was sure I had simply lost my mind and should be institutionalised. My father believed I should be killed before placed myself deeper in Hell. Suddenly I found myself with no husband and no family. What would be next?

 

Friends: Most of my friends drifted away during that first year. I was no fun anymore. I did not want to go to parties or bars. I was not interested in finding a boyfriend. All I ever did was read that '****** ' book (the Qur'an) and talk about Islam. What a bore. I still did not have enough knowledge to help them understand why Islam was so beautiful.

 

Employment: My job was next to go. While I had won just about every award there was in my field and was recognised as a serious trend setter and money maker, the day I put on hijab, was the end of my job. Now I was without a family, without friends and without a job.

 

In all this, the first light was my grandmother. She approved of my choice and joined me. What a surprise! I always knew she had alot of wisdom, but this! She died soon after that. When I stop to think about it, I almost get jealous. The day she pronounced Shahadah, all her misdeeds had been erased, while her good deeds were preserved. She died so soon after accepting Islam that I knew her 'BOOK' was bound to be heavy on the good side. It fills me with such joy!

 

As my knowledge grew and I was better able to answer questions, many things changed. But, it was the changes made in me as a person that had the greatest impact. A few years after I went public with my Islam, my mother called me and said she did not know what this 'Islam thing' was, but she hoped I would stay with it. She liked what it was doing for me. A couple of years after that she called again and asked what a person had to do to be a Muslim. I told her that all person had to do was know that there was only ONE God and Mohammed was His Messenger. Her response was: "Any fool knows that. But what do you have to do?" I repeated the same information and she said: "Well...OK. But let's not tell your father just yet."

 

Little did she know that he had gone through the same conversation a few weeks before that. My real father (the one who thought I should be killed) had done it almost two months earlier. Then, my sister, the mental health person, she told me that I was the most 'liberated' person she knew. Coming from her that was the greatest compliment I could have received.

 

Rather than try to tell you about how each person came to accept Islam, let me simply say that more members of my family continue to find Islam every year. I was especially happy when a dear friends, Brother Qaiser Imam, told me that my ex-husband took Shahdah. When Brother Qaiser asked him why, he said it was because he had been watching me for 16 years and he wanted his daughter to have what I had. He came and asked me to forgive him for all he had done. I had forgiven him long before that.

 

Now my oldest son, Whittney, has called, as I am writing this book, and announced that he also wants to become Muslim. He plans on taking the Shahadah as the ISNA Convention in a couple of weeks. For now, he is learning as much as he can. Allah is The Most Merciful.

 

Over the years, I have come to be known for my talks on Islam, and many listeners have chosen to be Muslim. My inner peace has continued to increase with my knowledge and confidence in the Wisdom of Allah. I know that Allah is not only my Creator but, my dearest friend. I know that Allah will always be there and will never reject me. For every step I take toward Allah, He takes 10 toward me. What a wonderful knowledge.

 

True, Allah has tested me, as was promised, and rewarded me far beyond what I could ever have hoped for. A few years ago, the doctors told me I had cancer and it was terminal. They explained that there was no cure, it was too far advanced, and proceeded to help prepare me for my death by explaining how the disease would progress. I had maybe one year left to live. I was concerned about my children, especially my youngest. Who would take care of him? Still I was not depressed. We must all die. I was confident that the pain I was experiencing contained Blessings.

 

I remembered a good friend, Kareem Al-Misawi, who died of cancer when he was still in his 20's. Shortly before he died, he told me that Allah was truly Merciful. This man was in unbelievable anguish and radiating with Allah's love. He said: "Allah intends that I should enter heaven with a clean book." His death experience gave me something to think about. He taught me of Allah's love and mercy. This was something no one else had ever really discussed. Allah's love!

 

I did not take me long to start being aware of His blessings. Friends who loved me came out of nowhere. I was given the gift of making Hag. Even more importantly, I learned how very important it was for me to share the Truth of Islam with everyone. It did not matter if people, Muslim or not, agreed with me or even liked me. The only approval I needed was from Allah. The only love I needed was from Allah. Yet, I discovered more and more people, who for no apparent reason, loved me. I rejoiced, for I remembered reading that if Allah loves you, He causes others to love you. I am not worthy of all the love. That means it must be another gift from Allah. Allah is the Greatest!

 

There is no way to fully explain how my life changed. Alhamdulillah! I am so very glad that I am a Muslim. Islam is my life. Islam is the beat of my heart. Islam is the blood that courses through my veins. Islam is my strength. Islam is my life so wonderful and beautiful. Without Islam, I am nothing and should Allah ever turn His magnificent face from me I could not survive.

 

"O Allah! let my heart have light, and my sight have light, and my hearing (senses) have light, and let me have light on my right, and let me have light on my left, and let me have light above me, and have light under me, and have light in front of me, and have light behind me; and let me have light." (Bukhari, vol. 8. pp. 221, #329)

 

"Oh my Lord! Forgive my sins and my ignorance and my exceeding the limits (boundaries of righteousness) in all my deeds and what you know better than I. O Allah! Forgive my mistakes, those done intentionally or out of my ignorance or (without) or with seriousness, and I confess that all such mistakes are done by me. Oh Allah! Forgive my sins of the past and of the future which i did openly or secretly. You are the One who makes the things go before, and You are the One who delays them, and You are the Omnipotent." (Bukhari, vol. , pp. 271, #407)

 

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