It was in the middle of June in the year 1997. I was a about 10 years old and found myself in the town of Mwanza in Tanzania. The air was filled with sweet sounds about our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. The evangelist and God’s messenger Reinhard Bonnke from Germany had come to preach the gospel to hungry souls.
Many people came from near and far, from all kinds of different places. All sorts of people from different sects and religions gathered to hear Reinhard preach. My parents, both Muslims, had brought me to this place to hear about Jesus. To my surprise there were many other Muslims there, just like me and my parents.
This was the first time I heard about our beloved Lord. The Son of God was sent down to earth so He could save all humanity. The Holy gospel was His Holy word and it teaches us to have mercy on others. This message was different than the one I had been brought up on. I was taught to hate Jews and Christians and that he who follows the Islamic path won’t be lead astray by satanic influences, mischief, corruption, envy, jealousy, hatred and devious temptation.
In Jesus Christ I also witnessed His power as many people were cured: the disabled, and Muslims with false spirits were also saved by Jesus Christ’s might. I was so glad my parents brought me to hear this evangelist.
I was totally absorbed by this harmonious faith and later started having secret contacts with my Christian friends to learn more about my Lord.
Later in life, and a few days before my final four exams, my health was critical and I was admitted into the General Hospital. The doctor told my parents what my sickness was – a duodenal ulcer. The doctor said that I had been suffering from this for a long time and that it would require an operation. The doctor said that a part of it should be cut as it was badly damaged. I was crying for help from doctors, though I knew perfectly well that only the Son of God who raised people from the dead was the ONLY one who could help me.
Hours before the operation my friends rushed to see me after I had lost consciousness. They brought me to their church where they organized a series of prayers. I found myself surrounded by people praising the Lord inside their church. My health got better day after day and I wrote my exams safely.
From those days onwards my faith in Christ grew stronger and stronger, and I can confess that I endured a lot of satanic afflictions, even from my parents who knew the truth and deliberately denied it while they witnessed his miracles on me when I was sick. But through His mighty help I made it through all those trials and troubles.
Times were better when I was in high school. I enjoyed the sweetness of my friend’s Christian faith, and I also used to receive a monthly booklet that did a lot to shape my faith.
Now I am in a desert where I am not surrounded by anyone who is a fellow Christian in faith. I am surrounded by enemies where there is no wisdom, but only commands. No tolerance, but only harsh treatments, No polite words that heal the soul, just upsetting words.
I am alone except for my Shepherd – Jesus. He is my Lord, the God who saved me, and who never let me stay suffering on my bed. I will never forget that day.
From Abdi, a Somali Christian,a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ.