As a militant Muslim, I never expected to have any dealings with Christians, much less to befriend them.
I was born and raised in Saudi Arabia as part of a devout Muslim family. Growing up, I considered myself a devoted follower of Islam, one who applied its teachings to every aspect of his life. I believed that Islam was the only true religion and that those who didn’t accept Allah as their God and Muhammad as his messenger were doomed to hell.
I had nothing but contempt for Christianity. I believed that Muslims were superior to all others, that all non-Muslims were infidels, and that Jesus was a prophet sent by Allah, not the divine Son of God. As far as I was concerned, he had never been crucified, never died on a cross, and never been resurrected. I believed he had ascended into heaven, but only to be saved from his persecutors before coming back at the end of times to restore Islam as the true religion of Allah. All in all, I grew up harboring intense hatred for Christians, Jews, and all who refused Islam.
By age 12, I had memorized half of the Qur’an, and my goal was to memorize all of it—all 114 chapters, all 6,236 verses. At age 15, I was prepared to die on behalf of Allah, like so many young people who were journeying to Afghanistan to fight the Soviet Union alongside Osama bin Laden. (He was a hero to us at that time.)
Were it not for my mother, who pleaded with me to stay behind, I would have joined this “holy war.” I believed that the rewards awaiting Muslims who died in the name of Allah were greater than any other a Muslim could receive. I was certain that by sacrificing my life in this manner, I would make it to paradise with all my sins forgiven.
Interacting with Christians
The more I grew up, however, the more notes of doubt began to creep in. As I gained a greater familiarity with …
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