Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus: A Devout Muslim Encounters Christianity

by Qureshi, Nabeel

  “Good Friday?” I had no idea what that meant.

  “Good Friday is the day Jesus died on the cross.”

  “What’s good about that?”

  “That’s how he took our sins, by dying on the cross.” Her answer was straightforward, but I was amused. I had been told this is what Christians believed, but no one had ever said it to me before.

  “How does his death on a cross take away your sins?”

  “That’s what they told us at church. I don’t know. We don’t go to church a lot. I never asked.” Kristen wasn’t being defensive; she was being honest. That was one of the reasons I enjoyed talking with her. She was brutally honest and intimidatingly intelligent. I later developed a little crush on her, but I wouldn’t admit it to myself. To do that, I would have had to compromise my culture, and that was not an option. I was an ambassador. But I did allow myself to be mean to her boyfriend.

  I decided to redirect the conversation. “Well, I don’t think he died on the cross anyway.”

  “Why’s that?” She was intrigued, so I started with my trump card.

  “Because of the Bible.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, first, we know that Jesus didn’t want to die on the cross. When he was in the garden of Gethsemane, he prayed that God would take the bitter cup away from him. Obviously, the bitter cup was his impending death on the cross, and Jesus prayed all night that God save him, to the point where he was sweating drops of blood.” I paused and waited for her affirmation. She nodded.

  “I don’t know about you, but I think God loved Jesus. There is no way that God would let Jesus’ prayers go unheard. In fact, I think the book of Hebrews says that. Anyway, when Jesus was put on the cross, if you do the calculations, you can see that he was on the cross for only three hours. Hanging on a cross for three hours doesn’t kill you. People lasted on the cross for days at a time. He was taken down too quickly.” She looked like she was processing everything, and I paused a moment to see if she would ask the obvious question. She did.

  “So why was he taken down?”

  “Exactly why the Bible says! Pilate commanded that he be taken down. Pilate’s wife had seen a dream and begged her husband that he not allow Jesus to be killed. She must have been able to persuade her husband to save him after the Jews were convinced that he was crucified. So Pilate gave the order to take Jesus down from the cross. That’s when Jesus was placed in the tomb.” I stopped, because it was clear Kristen had an objection.

  “But his disciples saw him afterward, and they thought he had risen from the dead. How could they have thought that if they took him down?”

  “I didn’t say the disciples took him down. It was Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus. Pilate couldn’t be seen working with the disciples, because that would make it obvious he was helping Jesus. So he worked with Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus. Joseph took Jesus’ body and put it in the tomb, and Nicodemus brought one hundred pounds of aloe and other medicines, along with linen bandages, to heal Jesus. God used the medicines to heal Jesus while he was in the tomb for those three days.”

  Kristen interjected with a question that I hadn’t thought of. “But why would God do all this to save Jesus? Couldn’t He have just taken Jesus up to heaven a few days earlier if He didn’t want Jesus to die on the cross?” That was pretty sharp. I hadn’t seen it from that angle. But our jamaat had given me an answer for the reason why Allah wanted Jesus to live.

  “Jesus himself says he was sent for the lost sheep of Israel. The lost sheep were the tribes of Jews who were scattered over Asia during the Jewish Diaspora. Allah saved Jesus from death on the cross so he could go to the lost sheep and reform Judaism there, as he did in Israel.”

  We had been so engrossed in conversation that we hadn’t noticed the students filing into the bus. In the seat in front of me, a boy who was one grade behind us had been listening attentively, apparently reaching his threshold. He caught our attention with a noisy grunt of contempt and, after looking at me, turned around angrily toward the front and said, “Disgusting.”

  I thought to myself, “If he had an argument, he’d share it. Truth silences falsehood.”

  Kristen had seen him too and looked at me to make sure I wasn’t offended. I wasn’t, but she went ahead and said loudly, “I think it’s a very interesting perspective. Thanks for sharing.”

  The argument I shared with Kristen, often called “the swoon theory,” is shared by Ahmadi Muslims and non-Ahmadi Muslims alike. It is a favorite among Muslim debaters, like Ahmad Deedat and Shabir Ally. It originated at the end of the eighteenth century when the age of enlightenment began generating naturalistic theories to account for Jesus’ apparent resurrection. Muslims like Mirza Ghulam Ahmad had added a theistic twist to it, making it more plausible that Jesus could survive crucifixion. The argument goes: “If God can do the large miracle of raising Jesus from the dead, why can He not do the much smaller miracle of keeping him alive on the cross?”

  The swoon theory is not the original Muslim explanation for Jesus’ apparent death, though, nor is it the majority view. Most Muslims believe “the substitution theory.” Early in Islamic history, it was argued that Jesus was substituted before being placed on the cross. Allah put Jesus’ face on someone else, and that person was crucified in Jesus’ place. This is how they interpreted the Quranic verse, “Jesus was neither killed nor crucified, but so it appeared.”21

  The question naturally arises: Who was killed in Jesus’ place? Different people have been suggested. Some say it was a devout young volunteer who wanted the honor of dying for Jesus. Others say that when Simon of Cyrene carried the cross for Jesus, they crucified him instead. Yet others say that Allah put Jesus’ face on Judas’s body for poetic justice. The last view seems to be the most popular today.

  Another majority view regards Jesus’ ascension. The Quran teaches that “Allah raised Jesus to Himself,” leading Muslims to believe in the ascension and eventual return of Jesus.22 So, like Christians, most Muslims are waiting for the return of the Messiah. Our jamaat challenged this view, because Ahmad claimed to be the Messiah. Appealing to the Bible, he argued that the Jews were mistakenly waiting for the return of Elijah from the sky. Jesus said John the Baptist was the return of Elijah. In the same way, the world was waiting for the return of Jesus, but Ahmad was he.

  Of course, I vehemently argued whatever my jamaat had taught me, so I provided the swoon theory and the position that Jesus traveled to India where he died at an old age instead of ascending.23 The more I shared my views, the more I felt confirmed in my faith, and the conversations occurred with increasing frequency when I realized no one had anything substantial to rebuff my views. I felt I had mastered half of the arguments I needed to be a good ambassador for Islam, and I felt that the other half was going to be even easier to argue. And I was right, it was.

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE FATHER IS GREATER THAN JESUS

  BY THE TIME I WAS IN TENTH GRADE, my personal life was changing significantly. I began to spend far more time with friends, both on the phone and at school during activities. I was much more concerned with my clothing, which Ammi was still picking out for me. I started to ask Ammi if I could wear contact lenses instead of glasses in an effort to combat the “nerd” reputation that I had acquired. No success.

  The tug of Western culture was becoming difficult to resist. I was still not allowed to go to sleepovers, nor was I allowed to go to school dances. My friends and I had grown close, and that made my absence from these events all the more difficult.

  But I still represented Islam proudly, especially when my beliefs were directly addressed, as they were one day while I was in Latin class.

  At Princess Anne High School, Latin was taught by two teachers, both of whom were thrilled when their students enjoyed the class. The teacher who taught Latin 2, Mrs. Earles, was far more kind and lax with me than she ought to have been. I loved Latin, and I loved her class. But I was getting more mischievo
us by the day, goaded by a lack of reprimand. I was the kind of student who forgot to do his homework quite often, and upon remembering a few hours before it was due, I tried to squeeze in a way to get it done. Mrs. Earles’ class was right before Spanish, and I often did my Spanish homework while she was lecturing. I would hide my Spanish textbook under my Latin textbook, working on it whenever she turned her eyes to the chalkboard, thinking that she was oblivious. Halfway through the year, I realized she wasn’t oblivious at all, just highly tolerant of my shenanigans.

  I was working on my Spanish homework on one of these occasions when the girl in front of me turned around and said, “Nabeel, can I ask you something?” Her name was Betsy, and she was the outspoken Christian in our grade. Everyone knew she was an evangelical Christian, and she often stood up for her faith. Despite her kindness and desire to help others, she had a soft yet adamant demeanor that made the rest of us uneasy. We thought she was a bit loony.

  “Yeah, sure.” I had no idea where this was going. Had she wanted a pencil, she wouldn’t have asked to ask me something, she would have just asked for the pencil. Nor would I have been the one she’d ask, for that matter. I always forgot my pencils.

  She paused for a moment, steeling herself before asking, “Do you know about Jesus?”

  Now I knew she was crazy. We were in the middle of Latin class. All the same, I immediately gained respect for her. Why had other Christians never asked me this question? They did think I needed Jesus to go to heaven, right? Were they content with letting me go to hell, or did they not really believe their faith?

  I considered how to approach my response in the present context. I looked up from my Spanish homework to assess the situation. Mrs. Earles had apparently stepped out for an indefinite period, and most of the students were chatting around us. I didn’t know how far I wanted to go, because I knew I could quickly get passionate and carried away. I decided to keep my answers short.

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes went wide. That was clearly not the answer she was expecting. “Really? What do you think about him?”

  “Well, I’m Muslim, right? Muslims believe that Jesus was sinless and born of the Virgin Mary. He cleansed the leprous, gave sight to the blind, and raised people from the dead. Jesus is the Messiah, the Word of God.”24

  Betsy was stunned. I must have gone off script, because she did not know where to go from there. So I proceeded for her.

  “But Jesus was not God. He was just a man.” I had drawn the battle lines for her and waited to see how she went to war.

  “Wow, you know a lot more about Jesus than I thought. That’s great! I believe a lot of the same things, but I don’t agree completely. Would you mind if I shared my view?” She responded softly yet adamantly, employing the very sneaky maneuver of being herself.

  “Sure, go ahead.” This was getting interesting.

  “Well, I don’t know if you know, but I’m a Christian.”

  “Yeah, I thought so.” I smiled, thinking to myself, “the whole world knows you’re Christian, Betsy.” She beamed, genuinely happy that I knew she was Christian.

  “We believe that Jesus is the Son of God, and that’s very important to us. Because he was the Son of God, he had no sin and was able to take our sins upon himself.”

  I had many problems with that statement, but I had already drawn the battle lines, so I stuck with the issue of Jesus’ deity. I decided to take a concessionary approach.

  “Betsy, I don’t think the Bible we have today is the word of God. It’s been changed too many times throughout history. But for now, let’s just say I did think so. Where does Jesus say, ‘I am God’?”

  Betsy thought for a moment. She didn’t seem too troubled, but it was clear to me she couldn’t remember him saying it. After an uncomfortable moment passed, which she seemed totally comfortable with, she said, “In John’s gospel, Jesus says, ‘The Father and I are one.’ ”

  That was the one I expected her to go for, and I was ready. “Yeah, but also in John, Jesus prays for his disciples to be one just as he is one with the Father. So he clarifies exactly what he means by ‘one.’ He means unified in spirit and will. If he meant ‘one’ as in ‘one being,’ would he be praying for his disciples to be ‘one’ in the same way? He’s not praying for his disciples to all become one being, is he?”

  “That’s a good point,” she said thoughtfully. Good point? I was in the process of dismantling her worldview, and she was being congenial? Did this girl ever get agitated?

  “Well, I can’t think of it right now, but I’m sure it’s there. I can look it up and get back to you.”

  “I’d love for you to, Betsy, but you won’t find anything. Jesus never said he was God,” I argued. “He made the opposite quite clear to us. He felt the pangs of hunger, thirst, loneliness, and temptation. He cried, and he bled. He didn’t call himself ‘the Son of God,’ he called himself ‘the Son of Man.’ He was very obviously human.”

  Betsy was nodding along, “Yes, I agree. Jesus is a man, and he is God too.”

  “How can someone be man and God? Man is mortal, God is immortal. Man is limited, God is infinite. Man is weak, God is omnipotent. To be man is to not be God, and to be God is to not be man.”

  This seemed to give her some pause. She was off balance, so I decided to push a bit harder.

  “When Jesus went to Galilee, Mark’s gospel tells us he could do no miracles. Not that he chose not to, but that he couldn’t. Can God not do miracles? When a woman in a crowd touched him, he had no idea who it was. Would God not know something that simple?” After pausing to let her process, I continued.

  “When a man called him ‘good,’ he said that he is not good, only God is good.25 He draws a distinction between himself and God. He does it again when he said he didn’t know when the world will end, and that only God knows. He’s making it very clear that he is not God.”

  Betsy said nothing. She had not thought of this before. I decided it was time for the coup de grâce.

  “Betsy, in case there is any question, in the gospel of John, Jesus said, ‘The Father is greater than I.’ And I agree with Jesus. God is greater than he is. I think you ought to agree with him too.”

  Betsy didn’t know what to say. I waited.

  “Well, I don’t know what to say.” She was sticking with her signature maneuver. “I’ll tell you what, I’m going to look into these things. In the meantime, I’d like to invite you to a play at our church that I’m a part of. Would you like to come?”

  “Sure, sounds like fun. But I don’t have a driver’s license yet. Mind if my dad comes along?”

  “Of course not. Bring as many people as you’d like. Here’s the information. Let me know what day you’re coming when you get a chance.” Betsy handed me a flyer for the event and smiled.

  I saw something behind the eyes of her smile that I hadn’t seen in her before. She was agitated. I smiled back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  HEAVEN’S GATES AND HELL’S FLAMES

  I WAS VERY EXCITED TO BE INVITED to a church. I had been to one before — a Catholic church — and I remember that day as an exciting, Latin-infused blur. Honestly, it was so confusing that I could not figure out why I had been invited. I recall that some of my friends were there, including Ben and his family, but they weren’t Catholic either. At one point, while our row was standing, everyone started walking to the front to get something from the priest. I didn’t know what to do, so I started going with them. Ben’s mom grabbed my arm and sat me back down into my seat. Startled, I looked over at her. She was emphatically shaking her head no. The priest, who had been rather solemn until then, was trying to hold back a laugh.

  No one had told me Protestant churches were any different, so I was expecting something similar. To me, the sanctuary of First Baptist Norfolk looked like an auditorium of sorts. I guessed that all the church stuff happened elsewhere, but I couldn’t see where.

  I sat with Abba in the balcony, toward the back. Even though
neither of us knew what the play was about, Abba was glad I had accepted the invitation. He said it would have been rude not to and that it was a good way to keep the door of conversation open with Betsy. He was proud of me for sharing my beliefs, and he was hoping to help me process the play we were about to see.

  The play was called “Heaven’s Gates and Hell’s Flames,” and it turned out to be a performance of the Christian salvation message. It was during the play that I learned Christians called this message “the gospel.” I had thought that the word gospel only referred to the four books about Jesus. Throughout the play, the message came across loud and clear: accept Jesus as your Lord, and you will go to heaven. Otherwise, you will go to hell.

  Different scenarios were performed, each one ending with someone’s death and his reception into heaven or damnation to hell based solely on whether he had accepted Jesus. The imagery in the play was not subtle. When someone was sent to hell, red and yellow lights flashed through the room, a thunderous cacophony played over the loudspeakers, and Satan came rampaging through the set, dragging the sinner off the stage.

  On the other hand, if someone had accepted Jesus, he would be ushered by radiant angels into a bright door, ecstatic with joy. In the final scenario, a man was driving a car and his passenger was talking to him about Jesus. The man said he had done many bad things and ignored God his whole life. The passenger was able to convince the driver that he was a sinner and needed Jesus, so the driver prayed a prayer. No sooner had he prayed than a terrible accident occurred. Both men died, dramatically depicted by turning off the lights. When the lights came back on, beautiful music was playing, and the driver was escorted into heaven.

  I’m not sure if it was intentional, but it was ingenious to end the play with that scene right before we all got in our cars to drive home. We started our follow-up discussion as soon as we put on our seat belts. “Nabeel, what did you think of the play?”