Extra: Preaching at the Mosque

We had a summer team in from the states and had taken them travelling around the desert in the southern part of our province.  We were in our final city, the one I always liked to call the home town of my heart.  It was a Friday afternoon getting close to Muslm pray time.  We had encouraged our group to break into pairs and prayer walk around the town, meet up an hour or so later in front of the mosque so that we could stand across the street and be lifting them up as the men walked into their weekly ritual prayer time.

 

Some of the girls and I got back to the meeting spot first.  We respectfully stood across the stream from the mosque and waited.  As much as we tried to be inconspicuous, it wasn’t long until these village famers noticed the white girls standing nearby.  We all had on long skirts that were busing the dirt around our ankles, long sleeve, high neck blouses, and head scarves.  Despite our attempt at modesty, the men still found our presence close by more interesting than actually heading in and getting ready for prayer time.  The came over in droves to where we were standing and started to press in closer and closer.  “I don’t really feel all that comfortable, Karen”  the girls started to rightly complain.  I have to admit I didn’t really like our situation either, but I wasn’t too sure what I could do about it.

With exaggerated motion I looked at my watched and asked in very broken YOU “What time do you guys need to get heading in for namaz?”  I hoped they would see that it was time and quickly all turn and head to the door.  Instead they seemed shocked that I could speak and crowed in closure to ask me questions.  “You know about payer time?”

 “Of course, all muslms pray Friday afternoon”

 “Do you pray?”

 “Of course”

 “Do you pray five times a day?”

“Some days I do. Some days I prayer only one or two times, some days I prayer more than ten times.  When I am happy I pray and thank God, when I am sad I pray and ask God for comfort.  Whenever my heart needs to talk to God I prayer.”  The only problem is I had only studied YOU for one year at this point and really could say all that clearly.  It likely came out more like “Yes.  One day one time, One day five time, one day ten time.  I happy pray thank you, I sad, pray no sad.  I want talk God I pray”

Surprisingly one of the guys standing closest to me could actually understand that garble and with a loud voice repeated what I had said, smoothing it out and making it grammatically correct. 

“But do you pray like this?” the next question came yelled out in the crowd, I noticed the speaking making the sign of the cross over his chest much as a Roman catholic would.  For some U’s that is all they know about Christianity. 

I started to respond and felt hands help lift me up so that I was standing on the wide curb that surrounded the stream.  “Pray this” I said holding my hands with the palms facing up as Muslms do, “Pray this” I folded my hands in front of me like I had always been taught to do in Sunday school, “Pray this” I repeated the motion the mad had made by crossing my chest.  “no problem.  God no look body, God look heart.  Heart good, God happy, God listen”

The man who had translated last time, also jumped up on the ledge and started to yell out in a loud voice “What she is trying to say is:  No matter how we hold our hands in prayer, God is not concerned with the externals… God looks at our heart.  If our heart is good and following after God alone then he is pleased to hear out prayers.”

Wow, this guy is good, I thought to myself as I tried to continue on.  “The most important thing about how I prayer is that I do it through J.  He is the most powerful, and only when we pray in his name will God really accept our prayers.”  This was a little more abstract for my translator, but I could tell he was still doing his best to capture the essence of what I was saying.  I noticed the crowd of 30 men had grown much larger, and that a few police were starting to linger at the back to see what was going on.

“You guys need to head in now, but remember to ask to know more about J” I said stepping down and making my way over to were our whole team was waiting off to the side.  We all spent the next several minutes thanking God for this unique divine appointment.  In a Muslm and communist area, it is unheard of a single women standing on the street corner in front of the mosque preaching the power of praying in J’s name.  Even the fact that God provided a person who understood my broken halting language and filled in the blanks.