Praying with a Prostitute

Several weeks ago, my teammate Grace and I spent a three-day weekend with Fatin, a young Muslim woman who has been studying God’s Word with us. During the weekend, we met Munisa, Fatin’s aunt.

Munisa had been a young bride when her husband abandoned her and their infant son years before.

As a poor woman with only a few years of schooling, Munisa struggled to find a job to support her small family. Feeling she had no other choice, she turned to prostitution.

By her mid-twenties, she had been diagnosed as HIV positive.

Munisa was extremely sick the weekend we met her. Her skin was pale and her eyes were glassy. But she didn’t want to be alone, so we sat next to her, holding her hand. When she could speak, we listened to her story. When she could not, we told her about how much Jesus loved her.

“I believe He does miracles!”

A week later, Fatin called to tell us Munisa had been rushed to a nearby hospital.

“Would you and Grace come to see her?” Fatin asked. “Maybe you can pray for my aunt, and Jesus will heal her. I believe He does miracles!”

When we arrived at Munisa’s bedside, just a few family members were there with her. Grace started sharing stories from the Injil about how Jesus Christ had miraculously healed many people.

Relatives kept arriving, and soon the room was full. Some of them were loudly reciting prayers and verses from the Quran, and Munisa’s mother forced a string of Islamic prayer beads into her daughter’s hand while reciting the names of God.

When Munisa’s brother arrived and saw the prayer beads in her hand, his face turned sour. “I doubt God will have mercy on you,” he sneered at his dying sister. Like many other relatives in the hospital room, he believed Munisa’s sins left little chance of her being forgiven.

Grace and I prayed quietly that Munisa would be healed.

Meanwhile, Munisa’s elderly father kept whispering the shahada, the Islamic affirmation of faith, into her ear.

In the tense atmosphere of the room, Grace and I prayed quietly that Munisa would be healed.

After nearly five hours, she groaned. Opening her eyes, Munisa looked into mine as if pleading for help. They were filled with terror and misery, and she was fading quickly.

“Maybe we should call a doctor?” I whispered to Fatin.

“Right! A doctor!” Fatin said. She rushed to look for someone to help. All the other relatives followed behind her, leaving Grace and me alone with Munisa and her mother and father.

The fear in her eyes vanished and was replaced by peace.

We asked Munisa’s parents if we could pray for her in the name of Jesus.

“Of course,” they replied. “Please pray for our daughter.”

With Munisa’s gaze still locked on mine, I told her we were going to pray for her. We held her hands, and she stopped groaning as we spoke to the Lord.

Then Grace said, “Munisa, God loves you so much, and He sent Jesus the Messiah to rescue you from sin and fear.”

I asked her if she wanted to ask Jesus to save her, and she started to cry as she nodded yes.

The fear in her eyes vanished and was replaced by peace. The misery that had filled the room turned to comfort. A few minutes later, Munisa took her final breath.

Grace and I cried with her parents.

I couldn’t have asked for a greater miracle than that.

For us, these were tears of joy. We thanked God for the opportunity to proclaim the precious name of Jesus Christ, who offers joy and eternal healing to everyone—even a dying prostitute from a devout Muslim family.

I had asked God to heal Munisa many times since first meeting her, but He chose to answer in a way that I didn’t expect. He welcomed her into eternity with Him. I couldn’t have asked for a greater miracle than that.

• Pray for more women like Fatin to study the Word and welcome Frontiers workers into their families.
• Praise God for hearing and receiving earnest hearts like Munisa’s—even at the end of their lives.
• Pray for Muslim families who have lost loved ones to seek and find hope in Christ alone.