Today was a happy day. My hands touched Jesus and my heart is finally at home. Today I met death face to face but I did not run or tremble. I embraced it with all the faith and strength Christ allowed. Maybe you would like to hear my story.
My family disowned my husband and I when he (Al-man) became a Christian. We were skirted from our families, our village and our lives. Everything weíd known disappeared in an instant, as if vanishing like a cloud of smoke. I blamed my husband for our lack of resources and emotional support. I blamed his Jesus even more. How could a God who loved his people so much leave them to die?
But nothing would keep my husband from daily falling to his knees in prayers of thankfulness and hope for my salvation.
As I soon learned prayers are often answered in the most Godlike ways. Time passed I slowly become more receptive, until that day I was brought to my knees. My husband wept with joy and praise to God when I finally said yes. He was able to break my heart of stone; Al-man wondered how many more hearts God wanted him to break.
He prayed non-stop for days, lacking food and water waiting for Godís answer on what he was to do. He was to become a missionary to his people, the people living in a war torn country full of hatred and violence. Al-man was to bring the good news of Christ to hurting and hopeless hearts. I guess you could also call him Godís traveling preacher. Godís plan was to also have me go with him for support and prayer. Where are we to sleep, what are we too eat, I questioned.
But I was silenced by Al-manís response, ďGod will provide.Ē
At times I realized by faith was still dependent on my husbandís faith. God was just slower at work in my heart and always at work in his. Not long after his work as Godís traveling preacher kidnapping attempts and threats on our lives began. Godís work was being done and in each village we visited people were coming to know the love of Christ. Stones were flung at us, acid barely missed us on a few occasions and we often took brunt force of village mobs. God protected us every time just as he promised he would.
As the number of believers increased, so did our fear for our lives. I often wondered how we survived on faith alone but by the grace of God we did. I learned that everything happens in a believerís life for a reason, often Godís. Maybe to teach us faith, God-reliance instead of self-reliance, trust in place of fear and hope when none seems found. Or simply he was preparing for the sacrifice he was asking us to make.
We traveled back to the same villages many times, finding more converts each time often angering the enemies of God. Our time had come, we were captured in the mid of night by masked gunmen as we tried to leave the village. Fearing for our lives as we never had before but we never made it past the gate. My husband and I were kidnapped and taken to a remote location. A location where we could not be found and gunshots could not be heard.
Our captors demanded we renounce our Christian faith. As I trembled with fear my husband simply shook his head no and began praying for our captors. His prayer was never finished as he fell forward to the floor, blood seeping out the back of his head. His face held the most peaceful look upon his face. God granted peace even in death.
I knew what was to follow as all eyes turned to me. One captor angrily asked, ďWhere is your God? He didnít save your husband and he canít save you now.Ē
I glanced at him with love, ďBut my God already has.Ē
The sound of a weapon firing and the blinding of my eyes of the whitest light were last of this life that I would remember.
As I said earlier today was a happy day. Today I touched the hands of Jesus and heard the endless echo of my name in the halls of heaven.
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