Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus: A Devout Muslim Encounters Christianity

by Qureshi, Nabeel

  To read an expert contribution on East meets West by Mark Mittelberg, a bestselling author and primary creator of the evangelism course Becoming a Contagious Christian, visit contributions.NabeelQureshi.com.

  Part 3

  TESTING THE NEW TESTAMENT

  O Allah, the Bible couldn’t be right, could it?

  Chapter Twenty

  BECOMING BROTHERS

  THERE IS A SIMPLE REASON I never listened to street preachers: they didn’t seem to care about me. It wasn’t that they were annoying. I found their passion admirable, and I appreciated people who stood up for what they believed. Rather, it was that they treated me like an object of their agenda. Did they have any idea how their message would impact my life? Did they even care?

  Sure, there are street preachers who share their message while still greeting people kindly, getting to know others’ troubles, and praying over personal pains, but I never saw them. What I saw were men who would stand on street corners accosting the public with their beliefs. No doubt they reached a few, but they repelled many more.

  Unfortunately, I have found that many Christians think of evangelism the same way, foisting Christian beliefs on strangers in chance encounters. The problem with this approach is that the gospel requires a radical life change, and not many people are about to listen to strangers telling them to change the way they live. What do they know about others’ lives?

  On the other hand, if a true friend shares the exact same message with heartfelt sincerity, speaking to specific circumstances and struggles, then the message is heard loud and clear.

  Effective evangelism requires relationships. There are very few exceptions.

  In my case, I knew of no Christian who truly cared about me, no one who had been a part of my life through thick and thin. I had plenty of Christian acquaintances, and I’m sure they would have been my friends if I had become a Christian, but that kind of friendship is conditional. There were none that I knew who cared about me unconditionally. Since no Christian cared about me, I did not care about their message.

  But that was about to change.

  It took a few weeks after 9/11 for life to regain a semblance of normalcy. Baji and I started attending classes again, Abba was back at work, and Ammi felt safe enough to run errands. Although Islam was in the hot seat on the news and a general mistrust of Muslims still hung in the air, the wave of emotional attacks was not as bad as we had expected. True, our community mosque was vandalized, and we frequently heard of anti-Muslim sentiments, but we knew of no physical attacks against Muslims. We felt safe to return to our lives, and not a moment too soon.

  The first forensics tournament of the year was upon us. Unlike the tournaments in high school, collegiate forensics tournaments were multiday affairs, often in other states. Our team’s first tournament was slated for West Chester, Pennsylvania.

  On the day of our departure, Ammi decided to drive me to ODU so she could see me off. When we arrived at the Batten Arts and Letters Building, one of the other students on the forensics team came out to greet us. I had spoken with him a few times at practice, but we were still getting to know each other. He rushed over to us and starting helping with my bags while introducing himself to Ammi.

  “Hi, Mrs. Qureshi. I’m David Wood.”

  Ammi was glad to meet someone from the team before sending me off to who-knows-where. “Hello, David, very nice to meet you. Are you going with Nabeel on this trip?”

  “Yeah. He told me you might be concerned, but we’ll take good care of him. Don’t worry.”

  Nothing David could have said would have made Ammi happier. “Nabeel, I can tell this is a good boy. Stay close to him!”

  “Acha, Ammi, I will.”

  “Keep your phone on you, okay Nabeel? Call me when you get to the hotel so I know you’re safe and so you can give me your hotel room number.”

  “Acha, Ammi, I will. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry.”

  Telling Ammi not to worry was like telling her not to breath, so she just ignored me. “And don’t forget to call Abba, too, so he knows you’re okay.”

  “Acha, Ammi!”

  Ammi then looked to David. “Remind Nabeel to call us. He’s very forgetful.”

  David couldn’t hide his smile. “I’ll make sure of it!”

  Ammi was finally satisfied. “Thank you, David. I’m so glad I got to meet one of Nabeel’s friends. After the trip, you should come over to our house for a meal. I’ll cook you real Pakistani food.”

  There was no hesitation in David’s voice. “You don’t have to say that twice. Thanks, Mrs. Qureshi!”

  “Okay boys, have fun. Be good! Nabeel, call me. And don’t forget to pray the salaat!”

  Ammi took my face in both her hands and kissed me on the cheek, just as she used to do when I was four years old, except now I was the one bending over. David was almost beside himself with repressed glee, expecting me to be embarrassed by Ammi’s show of affection. But this was normal for our family, and I rather enjoyed receiving this much love from her.

  As she started to get back in the car, she called out a traditional Pakistani valediction. “Khuda hafiz, beyta.” May God protect you.

  “Khuda hafiz, Ammi. Love you.”

  As she drove out of the parking lot, David just stared at me, a comical smile painted on his face.

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing, nothing. She does know you’ll only be gone for three days, right?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t leave home very often.” I picked up some bags and starting walking into the building to meet our team.

  “Uh-huh.” David picked up the rest of the bags and followed, his silly smile unrelenting. “Hey, you know what? It’s been a while since you talked to your mother. You really should call her.”

  I stopped and glared at David, then turned around and looked out at the main road. Ammi was still there, waiting at a red light to take a left turn. She was watching us walk into the building.

  Out of playful spite, I turned back to David and said, “You know what? I will. Thanks, David, for your heartfelt concern about my relationship with my mother.” I pulled out my cell phone and called Ammi. David chuckled to himself.

  And so our friendship was off to a flying start, skipping right past the niceties and straight into brotherly teasing. In the days to come, many would comment that David and I were foils of one another. We were both exactly the same height — six feet, three inches — but I had dark skin and black hair, while David had light skin and blond hair. I was a slender 175 pounds, while David easily had forty pounds of muscle over me. I was very meticulous with my appearance and image, while David preferred jeans and T-shirts. I had a pampered childhood, while David came out of trailer parks and a gritty past.

  But what I did not know about David was to be the starkest contrast of all. David was a Christian with strong convictions who had spent the previous five years of his life studying the Bible and learning to follow Jesus. Even though the gospel was his passion, he did not bombard me with his beliefs straightaway. The discussions arose much more naturally, after we became friends, and in the context of a life lived together. In fact, I was the one who brought it up.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  OPENING MY EYES

  THE TRIP UP TO WEST CHESTER was a blast. All the teammates were getting to know one another, practicing their forensics pieces, sharing life stories, and just laughing together. It was a very eye-opening experience for me, since it was my first time becoming intimately acquainted with people who had widely divergent lifestyles and thoughts. One girl on the team advocated legalizing drugs, one of the boys lived with his girlfriend, and another boy lived with his boyfriend.

  “Welcome to college,” I thought.

  We stopped for dinner at an Italian restaurant in Maryland. After the staff arranged a table large enough for all of us, they sat us down next to the kitchen where we had a clear view of all the cooks. David and I had spent the past few hours getting to know more about each ot
her. We decided to sit together over dinner and split a pizza.

  David can read people pretty well, and he quickly realized that I do not get offended by playful comments. Far from it, I always appreciate when people let down their guard with me and speak completely unfiltered. Political correctness is for acquaintances, not friends.

  So as we read through the menu, he turned to me with mock concern and said, “Nabeel, since you’re probably feeling homesick, I was looking for a pizza that might cheer you up. But they only have a Mediterranean pizza, not Middle Eastern pizza.”

  Unfazed, I replied, “But lucky for you, they do have a white pizza. My guess is that it’ll be bland and tasteless. You’ll love it.”

  David laughed. “You’re on. I hope this place is authentic. There’s a way to test that, you know.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah, watch this.” With that, David turned to the kitchen and yelled, “Hey, Tony!”

  Immediately, three of the cooks looked over at us, and we started laughing hysterically. “David, next time you pull a stunt like that, wait until after they’ve made our food!”

  So the night continued in lighthearted frivolity. When we finally made it to the hotel, our coach told us there were two rooms to be shared among the four guys on the trip. It was a no-brainer for us, and before long, David and I were getting settled.

  The rest of the team wanted to go out and celebrate. Most members left to go drinking or dancing at a nearby bar, while some of the others went looking for a suitable place to smoke various things. I had never engaged in any of these activities, and I was not looking to start. David also decided against joining them, which intrigued me. I wondered what made him different from the rest of the team and more like me.

  I did not have to wait long to find out.

  While I was unpacking, David sat down in an armchair in the corner of the room and kicked up his feet. He pulled out his Bible and started reading.

  It’s difficult to express just how flabbergasted I was by this. Never in my life had I seen anyone read a Bible in his free time. In fact, I had not even heard of this happening. True, I knew Christians revered the Bible, but I figured they all knew in their hearts that it had been changed over time and that there was no point in reading it.

  So in the same moment I found out David was a Christian, I also concluded that he must be especially deluded. Since there were no barriers between us, I just asked him.

  “So, David,” I began, still unpacking my clothes. “Are you a . . . hard-core Christian?”

  David looked amused. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  “You do realize that the Bible has been corrupted, right?”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. It’s been changed over time. Everyone knows that.”

  David looked unconvinced but genuinely interested in what I had to say. “How’s that?”

  “Well, it’s obvious. For one, just look at how many Bibles there are. You’ve got the King James Version, the New International Version, the Revised Standard Version, the New American Standard Bible, the English Standard Version, and who knows how many others. If I want to know exactly what God said, how am I supposed to know which Bible to go to? They are all different.”

  “Okay. Is that the only reason you think the Bible isn’t trustworthy?” David’s calm and controlled response was surprising. People were usually caught more off guard.

  “No, there are tons of reasons.”

  “Well, I’m listening.”

  Breaking away from my suitcase, I collected my thoughts. “There have been times when Christians take out whole sections of the Bible that they don’t want anymore, and they add stuff that they wish were there.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know the exact references, but I know that they added the Trinity into the Bible. Later, when they were called out, they removed it.”

  “Oh, I know what you’re talking about. You’re talking about first John five.”

  I had no idea what “first John five” meant, but I practically jumped him for admitting the flaw. “So you’ve known all along!”

  “I know what you’re referring to, but I don’t think you’re seeing it right.”

  “How am I not seeing it right?”

  “It’s not that Christians are just adding and removing things, as if there is some grand conspiracy with people controlling the text of the Bible. I mean, let’s just imagine for a second that someone did want to add stuff. Do you think he could just change all the Bibles in the world?”

  “Well, maybe not all,” I admitted, approaching my bed and sitting across from David, “but enough.”

  “Enough to what?”

  “Enough to effectively change the text.”

  He looked unimpressed. “Nabeel, are you telling me that Christians the world over would just let someone change their holy texts . . . and that this massive change would not be recorded anywhere in history? Come on.”

  “Not the world over, but I can imagine someone getting away with that in a specific region.”

  “So you agree, then, that if there were an interpolation in a specific region, we would find copies of the Bible without that interpolation elsewhere in the world?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Well, there you have it,” he said with an air of finality. “That explains the multiple versions of the Bible and the issue with first John five.”

  “Umm, what?” I felt as if I had been playing a game of chess with David, and he had unexpectedly declared “checkmate.”

  “The fact that there are manuscripts of the Bible all over the world means we can compare them and see where changes have been introduced. It’s a field of biblical study called ‘textual criticism.’ If anything is changed, like the verse about the Trinity in first John five, then we can easily find the alteration by comparing it to other manuscripts. That explains the major differences between various versions of the Bible. But don’t get the wrong idea; there are only a handful of major differences between them.”

  Manuscript: A physical copy of a text, whether in part or in whole

  “What about all the minor differences?”

  “Well those are just stylistic differences in translation, for the most part. There are different translations of the Quran, aren’t there?”

  “Yeah, but they’re all using the Arabic text to translate, not foreign language transmissions.”

  “Well, it’s the same with the Bible. Most of the differences between Bible versions are just matters of translation, not the underlying Hebrew or Greek.”

  I let all this new information sink in, and I looked at David in a new light. Where did he get all this information? Why hadn’t I heard it before? I found it all hard to believe.

  My incredulity won out. “David, I don’t believe you. I’ve got to see this for myself.”

  He laughed. “Good! You’d be letting me down if you didn’t look into this further. But if you’re gonna do this right, you better bring it!”

  I got up and started walking back toward my suitcase. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s been brought.”

  After I finished unpacking, we focused on final preparations for the tournament. All the while, I kept thinking about our conversation. I was still fully convinced that the Bible was corrupt, but I had to deal with more advanced arguments than I had previously heard. I was excited to return home and dive more deeply into these matters.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  TEXTUAL EVOLUTION

  BEFORE LONG, we were back at school, catching up on classes. David was a double major in biology and philosophy, and I was premed. It turned out we were in a few of the same classes: chemistry and evolutionary biology.

  Sometimes, being in classes together was a good thing. David and I studied chemistry together regularly with the mutual understanding that it was all out war. We were trying to outdo one another. After every exam, our professor posted the grades outside the lecture hall, and David and I would clamber over on
e another to see them. Because of our friendly competition, David and I always had the highest grades in the class.

  Other times, being in classes together was not a good thing. In evolutionary biology, David and I could hardly pay attention. The teacher made no attempt to hide her atheism, and we were often distracted by her side comments. Being strong theists, we found most atheist arguments petty and unconvincing. Whenever our professor said something with an atheist bent, we would turn to one another and make jokes about it . . . or about her. We were college kids, after all.

  One particular day, after a brief pro-atheism tirade, she returned to teaching us about taxonomy, the classification of all living things into kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, and species. I leaned over to David and whispered, “After much observation, I’ve concluded that her hair has a life of its own. I’m trying to figure out what phylum I’d put it in.”

  David responded with a serious tone, “That’s a tough call, Nabeel. It appears to have developed self-defense mechanisms reminiscent to those of scorpions. What do you think?”

  “Very astute, David. I would have said it looks more like moss or lichen, but now that you mention it, it could very well be a sentient being.”

  The next few moments were spent stifling laughter, and this kind of impertinent banter ultimately led me to drop the evolution course. We just couldn’t focus when we were there together.

  As I went through college, I learned that evolutionary theory had crept into many fields: biology, sociology, anthropology, communications, psychology, and even religious theory. Indeed, there were notes of evolutionary theory in the arguments I used against the Bible. I asserted that the Bible had changed over time, altered in transmission by those in power according to their aims. Later, I would come to argue an evolutionary model for the gospels, that the earliest gospel, Mark, had a much more human view of Jesus than the later gospels, and that Jesus’ divinity in the gospels gradually evolved.