Kourosh

Desiring wealth, finding great treasure

“The first link between my soul and Christ is not my goodness but my badness, not my merit but my misery, not my riches but my need.”

C. H. Spurgeon

            I grew up in a very strict Muslim family. My parents never missed any of the daily prayers, and I learned, like them, to take my religion very seriously. As I became a young adult, I would go every day to the mosque to pray. This would come as a surprise to many of my friends in the UK who do not know much about my past.

            But what would come as an even greater shock to my new friends here would be to learn that from the age of seven, I was a member of the Basij. The Basij is a pro-government Islamic volunteer militia, originally founded by Ayatollah Khomeini in 1979 after the Revolution. They can be deployed to deal with civil unrest, but a large part of their activity involves policing civilian behaviour – for example, by enforcing dress codes. Young boys are encouraged to join up while still at school. The idea of being taught how to use a gun can be a major attraction.

            By the time I was in my early twenties I could often be found walking around the city with a group of other Basij officers, looking out for women who were not wearing the hijab correctly, or searching homes where we suspected that alcohol was being produced or consumed. We would frequently stop and search cars if we had even the smallest reason to suspect that all was not as it should be (or for no real reason at all). We would take everything out of the car and look under the seats, and in every possible hiding place.  My role in the Basij gave me a serious sense of power and of self-righteousness. I thought I was being the best Muslim, the best servant of God and the best citizen of my country that I could possibly be.

            However, my life began to change radically once I had finished my education and work began to take over all my time. I had started managing a small taxi company and had a number of employees working for me, as well as sometimes driving the taxis myself. My employees and I spurred each other on towards a general dissatisfaction with life. We were always complaining amongst ourselves about how expensive everything was, and how we were not making enough money to get all that we wanted out of life. All day long, either with colleagues or with passengers in my taxi, there was nothing but moaning and complaining.

            It was my own preoccupation with money that began to sow the seeds of a hatred of Islam in my mind and heart. I had become more aware of the enormous wealth of the mullahs – Islamic theologians – and of the relative struggle of ordinary working citizens like myself. I had not thought about these things as a child, but now that I was working hard to make a living for myself, the existence of leaders who basked in their own riches just seemed to me incongruous with ideas I had held about religion up to that point. I saw that life required me to devote all my time to eking out a living. There was no time left to give to religious duties.

            I had left the Basij by this time, as my work with the taxi company filled all my hours, but I still knew their presence in my life. Now I found myself on the other end of Basij cross-examinations. Several times, my own taxi was stopped and searched, and I am ashamed to say that there were occasions when I was found with things I should not have had in my possession.

            For two or three years, the hatred I had begun to feel for my religion and the cultural systems of my country continued to grow. I stopped going to the mosque, I stopped praying altogether, and I wanted nothing to do with religion. All my desire was focused on money. I was interested in nothing else, and I would do almost anything to make money.

            I had become close to one of my employees who was an opium addict, and he was a very negative influence on me during that period of my life. His ambition was to leave Iran and to find a way to make a lot of money, and we often talked about this together. He told me that the only way to know real wealth and comfort was to leave Iran. We discussed how one could make a case for asylum on fleeing to a western nation like the UK. He told me that the best thing to do was to tell the authorities that you had fled Iran because you had converted from Islam to Christianity, and that as a result your life was now in danger. This was sure to result in assistance and shelter. You would not need to really change your religion because nobody would check up on you after you had been given leave to remain as a refugee.

            One day, as this same employee and I were sitting together in the office, smoking opium and talking about what life might be like for us in Europe, we were joined by another acquaintance. The conversation turned to religion in Europe, and he told us that he was a Christian. He said that Christianity was better than Islam, and began to tell us about his religion. I suppose that, knowing our disdain for our own religion, and seeing us smoking an illegal substance in the workplace, he felt some freedom in expressing his views in this way. We responded with ridicule, and I dismissed him in my mind as some kind of an eccentric.

            Our conversations with this Christian friend continued, however, and we agreed on one occasion, out of curiosity, to attend a service in his house church. I am afraid that we did not behave well there, and after the service had ended we laughed and joked about how ridiculous it had all seemed to us. These Christians became a source of hilarity whenever we felt in the mood for fun.

            I still feel very uncomfortable talking about the next part of my story. Suffice it to say that something happened that rapidly turned talk into action, and I felt that I had no choice but to flee my home, motivated not by the desire for money but by fear. I made my way to the UK and was soon moved to the city that has now become my home.

            An Iranian acquaintance who had helped me with the move advised me to go to a church that he knew of. I remembered how my employee had told me that pretending to be a Christian convert from Islam was the best way to present a case to the Home Office. Besides that, I had come to believe that maybe there was something good in Christianity after all. There had been something about the Christian I had met back home, about his persistence and sincerity despite our mockery, that had moved me. Apart from all this, I had nothing better to do with my time, so I had no serious objection to going along on Sunday mornings and sitting through the services in the church.

            I was soon attending church regularly each week, going to both morning and evening services on Sundays, and a prayer meeting during the week. I spoke hardly any English, but there was an Iranian Christian in the church who tirelessly translated the sermons, the prayers, and the hymns for a small group of Iranians who attended. I was asked if I would like to work as a volunteer in the coffee shop that was run by the church. The Iranian translator was one of the managers there, so I felt comfortable enough to work a shift washing dishes once a week with him. Through all the activities of the church I had found some routine for my life while I waited for progress with my asylum application. I also spent a lot of time at the home of another Iranian Christian who became a good friend. I discovered that I had unintentionally surrounded myself with Christians.

            My feelings about Christianity changed completely at this time. I could no longer laugh at the prayers or the worship, or the sermons I heard preached each week. I had a lot of time to think, a lot of time to read and study the Bible for myself, and a lot of time to talk with my new friends. It was these conversations that drew me gradually to the conclusion that I had to make a decision for myself between Christianity and Islam, between the claims of Jesus and those of Mohammed, between the Bible and the Quran. While I had lost respect for Islam as I saw it practised in Iran, I still remembered my early zeal. I determined to examine both religions closely and to choose the one that made most sense to me.

            So, for two or three weeks, I began to watch debates each evening on YouTube between Muslims and Christians. Most of the debates featured a famous Muslim debater from South Africa called Ahmed Deedat. He died in 2005, but for many years he had gained fame by being one of very few Muslims scholars willing to engage in debate with evangelical Christians on topics such as the authority of the Bible and the nature of God. Deedat used to argue that the Bible predicted the coming of Mohammed. He would refer to Deuteronomy 18:18 which says:

“I will raise up for them a Prophet like you from among their brethren, and will put My words in his mouth, and he shall speak to them all that I command him.”

Deuteronomy 18:18 NKJV

            He also claimed that when Jesus promised in John 14 to send a helper – the Spirit of Truth – that this was a reference to Mohammed. Many Muslims and Christians both believe wrongly that we all have the same idea about God. I had to learn that the Christian belief in the Triune God – one God in the three Persons of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit – is totally different from Islam’s portrayal of Allah.

            Evenings turned into long nights as I watched debate after debate into the early morning hours. My mind was always full of questions, which I would save up for my weekly coffee shop shift, or for the weekly Farsi Bible study that I had now begun attending. What spoke to me most of all as I watched the debates was the difference in attitude of the speakers. The Muslim debaters were generally concerned with scoring points, or with getting laughs from the audience through mockery of Christian teachings. By contrast, the Christian speakers emphasised the love of God, and demonstrated love and compassion themselves in the way that they spoke to the audience, inviting everyone to come to a personal relationship with God. One speaker said that the Muslim idea of Allah was too small because it could not conceive of a God who would condescend Himself to become a man and to live and die to save us.

            In my mind, the radical nature of the Christian claims was becoming clear to me, and I decided that it was time for me to choose one religion or the other. I prayed for the first time to Jesus, and told him that I wanted to make a deal with Him: I would try Christianity, and if my life became better, I would remain a Christian; if it made no difference to my life, then I would return to Islam. Looking back at this prayer, I see now how selfish and arrogant I still was. I had been more than convinced through all my investigations that Jesus was the Way, and the Truth, and the Life, as He claimed to be. I had seen that the only recourse the Muslim YouTube debaters had was to bullying and jeering, or to far-fetched reasoning about the scientific and mathematical “miracles” of the Quran. By contrast, my Christian friends seemed to really know Jesus in a personal relationship. They prayed about every aspect of life and really believed that God heard and answered their prayers. I believe that God saw that what I longed for was this same personal relationship, and He knew that this desire was at the bottom of my selfish prayer.

            Of course, Jesus took me up on the challenge. The very next day following this prayer, good things began to happen for me. It seemed that everything turned to my favour. I found, for example, that I was at last beginning to make real breakthroughs in my language study; when I found myself in need of a new home, I had only to wait a few hours before I learned about a room that was available; when I needed a job, I found one the very next day. Even trivial wants and needs were provided for. I do not mean to say that my life has become one of ease and wealth, or that I have every material or emotional desire that a young man could have. In fact, a brief survey of my current circumstances would probably lead you to conclude that this is far from the truth. Perhaps God has simply given me a new contentment with what I have, and a joy and pleasure in simple things that I did not experience before. What I have come to see is the intimate care that Jesus expressed so wonderfully when He said that even the very hairs of our heads are numbered! No moment of any day, no beat of our heart, no passion, no pleasure, and no heartache is unknown to Him.

            The day came for my Home Office interview. As I entered the room, I prayed silently, and invited Jesus to go into the room before me. There was an empty chair placed next to the one that I was told to sit in, so I said, “Jesus, you sit here, and you talk instead of me, because I don’t know what I should say.” When it was all over, I told my Iranian Christian friend at the church that I was sure that my application would be accepted. I had to wait for forty days to hear the outcome of the interview. Eventually, the letter arrived, and I read that I had been given leave to remain in the UK. However, even while waiting for the outcome, I counted the days but did not feel anxious, as I was sure that God would work everything out for my good.

            The church continues to be my home, and my Christian friends are my new family. My English is slowly improving as I attend classes on most weekday mornings, and I have a job that allows me to work in the evenings and to earn enough to keep myself going. I think back to how I was motivated in my desire to leave Iran by the expectation of financial gain. I have not found that, but I have experienced spiritual riches I did not know were possible. I have found the pearl of great price in Jesus my Saviour.