A Saved Moslem Writes..

 •  3 min. read  •  grade level: 9
I was born in Calcutta thirty years ago. According to the Moslem rite, the words meaning the greatness of God and the apostleship of Mohammed were pronounced in my ears, and thus I was received not only into this world but also into the fold of Islam.
At a very early age I had finished the whole of the Koran, and under an Arab Hafiz I had begun to memorize it. I also acquired knowledge of my vernacular Urdu, and at the age of ten I knew how to say the prayers prescribed by Islam. Under the guidance of a professor of Moslem theology, I acquired some knowledge of it and of the laws regulating prayers and fastings. Thus armed with the necessary Islamic knowledge, I turned out to be a strict observant of Mohammedan laws. I could hardly tolerate the Moslems who did not observe the prayers and fastings, or who were not good Mohammedans, and my indignation against non-Moslems knew no bounds. Indeed I was growing into a fanatic.
The little reading of books about the early conquests of Islam so influenced my thoughts that I would delight in imagining another jihad (holy war) and drawing a sword against all unbelievers, and then dying a martyr in a glorious fight for Islam.
The guiding principle, or the motive behind my religious zeal, and the tenacity with which I followed the practice of Islam, lay in my blind faith in the truth of Islam. To me every other religion was an invention of the devil, and all non-Moslems, as followers of false religions, had no right to exist.
One day a copy of the Gospels was given to me by a Moslem friend. On previous occasions I had torn it into pieces as a book of Satan. This time I was prompted to read it again, and studied it carefully and tried to discover something Satanic, but there was nothing which I could discard as a lie or corruption.
The simplicity of the life of Christ impressed me. The story of the crucifixion was something new and contrary to what I was taught, yet it seemed to be the natural development of the whole thing. My faith in Islamic interpretation was shaken. The gospel story, either right or wrong, was not, at least, Satanic. The moulvies had told a lie.
I managed to obtain a copy of the Bible and started reading it every day. Then came difficulties: there were so many questions to be solved; I wanted someone to guide me. I was introduced to Dr. Zwemer who, using a mixture of Arabic, Persian and English, spoke to me on the Koranic text, "Show me the straight path."
It was the first occasion that the Christian message in its absolute purity was presented to me. I had found the existing Bible to be the real Torah, Zabur and Injil mentioned in the Koran.... Now I learned that Christ and only Christ is the Way, and that I must become a Christian not only for the intellectual satisfaction but in order to be saved, saved from the hell and judgment with which I was familiarized in Islam. I learned that I must accept Christ as my living murshid (spiritual Guide), and follow Him with unhesitating steps to the end of life.
It became clear to me that Christ is the Path leading to God, for He is the way between God and man, for He came from God and has returned to God. The path was clear and straight, and my soul cried out in exultant joy. It was the joy of a man who had lost his way and then found it again, and, recognizing it as his path leading to his home, would feel happy and relieved.