The crowded mosque looked more like a disco party than a religious service.
Decorated for a Muslim holiday, the suburban American mosque was filled with people who had come to hear poetry recited and the Quran read. Part of the program included a panel discussion between Christian and Muslim leaders.
Dressed in full-length skirts and headscarves, my roommates and I were ushered to the women’s seating area. It was separated from the men and in the back of the room.
We were sitting in the noisiest place possible, right next to the door where kids ran in and out of their play area. The sound of music and boisterous children muffled both the panel discussion and the recitations. So instead of trying to listen, I chatted with the mothers who attempted to stop the children from streaming into the main room.
In one night, we had invited 10 Muslim women to study God’s Word with us.
Then during a break, an enormous cake was served, accompanied by an array of cookies, date-paste treats, and tea. It was just as chaotic and sugary as it sounds.
One mother, a woman named Munisa, introduced me to Daniel, her toddler whose face was covered in icing.
“Daniel, like in the Holy Book,” I said.
“Yes, that’s who I named him after,” Munisa responded excitedly.
“So you know the story of Daniel?” I asked.
“I know he’s a prophet,” she said. “But no, I don’t know his story.”
She agreed to my suggestion that we meet to study the story the next weekend.
By the time my roommates and I returned home from the mosque, it was well after midnight. Unpacking the date-paste treats our new friends had packed into our purses, we recapped the night and we had invited 10 Muslim women to study the Word with us. God had given us wide open doors to plant seeds of the Gospel in these families.
“You’re the first Americans to enter my home.”
The next weekend, Munisa invited one of my roommates and me to her home. The three of us read the first chapter of Daniel together and also shared our stories, laughed over cultural differences, and ate together.
As we left, Munisa explained that since she had felt so comfortable around us, she had served us like family—not like guests.
“You’re the first Americans to enter my home in the five years I’ve been in the United States,” she said.
What a humbling gift to know that God is working through us to introduce Muslims like Munisa to His love and peace.
- Ask a Muslim woman in the grocery store to give you an easy recipe she makes on a Muslim holiday.
- Sign up to help teach English or host students through an international ministry at a local college or university.
- Visit an ethnic restaurant (such as Lebanese, Persian, Turkish, Pakistani, or Nigerian) and introduce yourself to the owners.
- Contact a non-profit or refugee agency, and volunteer to help settle a Muslim family.
This account comes from an intern in Frontiers’ pre-field internship.
Main photo by Kiran Alvi