A Surrogate Family on the Field

My friend Adana and I sat on the floor of her living room, a picture book flipped open in front of us. Adana was teaching me new vocabulary as I tried to describe what was happening in the wordless picture book.

Around us, her family members were napping—as were most people in the city during the hottest part of the day. Despite our best attempts to stay quiet, we were overcome by laughter several times as I struggled to pronounce the most difficult words.

Then as often happened on these hot, quiet afternoons, our conversation shifted.

“What does the Quran say about Jesus?” I asked Adana.

We were overcome by laughter several times as I struggled to pronounce the most difficult words.

She perked up. “It says many great and important things about Him and His teachings,” Adana said. She quickly told me a couple of short stories from the Quran.

I asked her if she’d like to study Jesus’ teachings in the Word. Adana said she didn’t have time and listed all the chores that filled up her days.

“But if the Quran says Jesus is important, wouldn’t it be good to make time to know what He says?” I asked. “Jesus Himself says there is only one way to God. Isn’t it important to know what that way is?”

Adana looked at me and sincerely asked, “Really? Jesus said that?”

But then she quickly turned back to the picture book to change the subject. “Oh look, the boy is eating dinner,” she said, pointing to the open page.

“Jesus Himself says there is only one way to God. Isn’t it important to know what that way is?”

Another day, our picture book prompted a conversation about childhood. I shared how I am much happier now than when I was younger.

“I didn’t know God then,” I said. “But now I do.”

“How do you know God?” Adana asked.

I told her that God showed me I wasn’t following the way of Jesus even though I had grown up learning about Him. I shared how He gave me a longing to be holy—not so I could earn His forgiveness but because I finally understood what He had sacrificed to forgive me.

“How do you know God?” Adana asked.

Our conversation moved on. Then a few days later, Adana became very ill. As is customary in the culture when a friend or family member is sick, I took a bowl of fruit for Adana and sat with her in her room. The family was just finishing lunch, so Adana insisted I go and eat with them.

I told Adana that I couldn’t because I was fasting and praying for her health that day. She was grateful and let me lay hands on her as I prayed in Jesus’ name.

As I finished praying, Adana’s sisters came in with a whole tray of food. Houda, their mother, walked in just as I was explaining that I couldn’t eat.

“You must eat,” Houda demanded. “Eat!”

Before I could respond, Adana chimed in. “No, she can’t,” she said. “She’s fasting and praying for me to get better today.”

Houda sat down on the other side of the room, buried her face in her scarf, and wept.

The room turned hectic as everyone started talking at once. The sisters shoved the food back onto the tray and took it away.

Amid the chaos, Houda sat down on the other side of the room, buried her face in her scarf, and wept.

When she lifted her head to wipe her tears, she reached her hand for me to take hold of. She pulled me in close, saying, “You are mine now. Thank you, my daughter.”

In the past, Houda had referred to me as Adana’s sister. Her shift to calling me her own daughter may seem trivial. But in a culture of honor and shame where the idea of family is zealously guarded, Houda’s words were a sincere declaration of my belonging.

That shift in perspective happened as Houda witnessed my small sacrifice for Adana. I hope her entire family will one day be so deeply touched by the ultimate sacrifice of Christ that they will hear Him say, “You are my child now.”

• Pray for Adana and her entire family to discover how Jesus’ sacrifice has made a way for them to be reconciled to the Father as His beloved children.
• Pray that Muslims will have their eyes opened to see Christ, and pray for an outpouring of dreams and visions throughout the Muslim world.
• Ask God to bless Frontiers workers as they learn local languages, grow in relationship with Muslims, and share the Gospel with winsome boldness.